Tag: HorrorFiction

Fountain of the Roundhead

It takes a step forward and smiles, gripping the stone wall with a clawed hand.

“I have braved endless eons. I have waded through rivers of blood. I have waited for the day you were reborn anew so my emptiness could be filled with your overabundance, your sinful soul, for that which I was not blessed. But now I see you for what you truly are—like me. I desire no longer just your vile pittance, not when I can have EVERYTHING!” it sneers as it throws its arms out wide and laughs, then looks down at him, its eyes endless pools of space shimmering in the candlelight.

He clenches his hands into fists and leaps into the air, driving a solid left hook across its face. It crashes to the ground, and his eyes widen with surprise. Lifting his hand before him, he slowly turns it in front of his eyes, bewildered by the might it dealt, captivated by the force it sent through the beast, and he smiles to himself as he looks down to where it lies. “I won’t let YOU!” he yells defiantly.

“Well played, child,” it says. Seconds flash past as it stands before him once more, saliva dripping from its rows of razor-sharp teeth. “But you are fighting something endless, timeless, without sin, without soul. This display, if you want to call it that, will not displace me. I am coming, I am almost through, and soon I will be more than a dream, more than a fading thought when you wake. Soon, I will be free.”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT OF ME?”

It laughs as he feels its hot, putrid breath waft over his face. He screws it up in disgust, holding back the rush of bile trying to escape his stomach. “I don’t want ANYTHING from YOU, not anymore. I just want you to witness the destruction you have imparted onto humankind. I want you to witness as I steal all the sins of those you hold dear. I want to pluck them from everyone you ever knew, anyone you ever loved, and then, once I have fed on yours, I will feed on the rest until there is only you and me, and then, then I will come back for you, Marty. When you see what your words have done to this world, what you have created.”

“W-W-WHY?”

It grunts and leans in closer, its form slowly shifting until Marty is staring at a ghostly, soulless version of himself, and it smiles. “We all have dreams, father.”

Payday

“It’s perfect,” she says, taking a step back to look at the painting. “I love it,” she says, turning to him. He smiles embarrassingly, blushes, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and shuffles his feet from side to side.

“I’m glad you like it. I-I, I tried to incorporate all the elements you asked for, right down to the expressions on the children’s faces in the background and the detail in the foreground. I wanted it to be crisp, photo-like, so it seems as realistic as possible.”

“You did more than I ever thought possible, darling. It will be the central piece in the exhibition; everything else will be built around it. You should stay for the night and witness the reactions of those your art touches. People won’t believe it is a painting,” she says as she grabs his dirty, tobacco-stained hand and squeezes it. “Say you will, please?”

“I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion,” he says, looking down at his paint-stained, torn trousers and his dirty, faded hoodie.

“Don’t be silly, there’s a shower out back, and I have a collection of clothing still in the storage room from the old costume shop that used to be here before us. I’m sure you’ll find something dazzling to wear. Say you will?”

He blushes once more as she squeezes his hand tighter than before. “I-I-I… Okay, I’ll stay,” he says with a nervous smile.

“Marvellous. Tiffany, show Mister Sanderson—”

“Please, it’s Tim,” he says softly, his cheeks glowing bright red.

“Of course, of course. Tiffany, please show Tim to the back area and help him find something simply divine to wear for tonight’s opening, then help him get cleaned up.”

“Of course, Tina. Please follow me,” Tiffany says as she leads him out the back. “I love your work, by the way,” she says.

“T-T-Thank you. I try to put as much of myself into my art as I can.”

“It’s a rare quality you have. Not many people are born with such a gift.”

“I wouldn’t say I was born with it, more like I acquired it one day.”

“Really?” she says as she opens a door that leads into a dusty old room filled with clothing racks, each rack overflowing with costumes. “How would you acquire something like that? It’s not like you could win it in a game of cards or anything like that.”

He laughs. “No, not a card game, nothing like that. It just happened one day. I picked up a brush and started painting, not just shit, but really beautiful, realistic images. I don’t know how. I was never good at drawing or anything like that. Fuck, to be honest, I couldn’t even draw a house, and then one day I was painting like a master.”

“Life has a way of doing that to us all, sometimes when we least expect it. Here we go, try this on for size. I think you would look quite dazzling in this,” she says as she hands him a black tuxedo.

“Don’t you think it’s overdoing it a bit?”

“Somebody with your skill needs to realise that image is important. Without the image, the work is useless unless you die, of course, and then, then your work is worth much, much more,” she says with an evil smile. He swallows a mouthful of air as he feels his body break out in a cold sweat and nervously laughs. “So tell me, how many more pieces have you done since you discovered this amazing gift?”

“A few, but this is the first time someone has purchased one of them. All the rest are in my loft collecting dust.”

“You’ll have to show them to me sometime,” she says as she drops her dress, revealing her naked body. He stands there, his eyes growing wide. “Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to come here and join me?” she says as she leads him out of the room towards another that houses a makeshift shower of sorts. “Tina did say to help you get cleaned up, didn’t she?” she says with a smile. He smiles again and nervously follows her out of the room and into the small bathroom. “Close the door and get your clothes off,” she says as she turns on the shower and climbs in. Quickly, he rips off his clothes and leaps in after her.

“Is this really happening?”

She smiles and grabs him by the back of the head, taking a handful of hair tightly in her hand. “No,” she whispers, as she drives a blade deep into his neck, severing several major arteries. He has little time to react as his heart vigorously pumps blood from the open wound. Quickly, it spurts up onto the tiled walls and across her naked body. From the corner of his eye, he sees Tina standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips and a smile on her face.

“Don’t be scared, Timmy. We’re going to make you famous.”

Hurt

“It’s cold,” she says, gripping herself tightly as she lets out a shiver.

“It’s meant to get colder,” he says while snapping some twigs over his knee and adding them to the small pile on the ground.

“Are you, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“When I was a kid, Dad took us camping all the time. He made sure we knew how to survive if we had to,” he says with a smile, as he starts stuffing dried moss and leaves into the sticks.

“You’re a lot handier than you let on.”

“I like to keep a surprise or two hidden away for emergencies, to impress the ladies.”

She laughs. “You don’t need to worry about trying to impress me any more than you have. These last few months have been amazing. I-I, I think I’m falling for you.”

Flames leap up from within the sticks, and he smiles again, sitting back and looking at her from across the small campfire. “Me too.”

“Me too? The girl just said she loves you, and you say, me too,” a voice says from beyond the campfire light, out in the darkness. He leaps to his feet in a panic, spinning around towards where the voice originated, holding out a knife as she quickly scrambles to his side.

“Show yourself!” he yells.

A tall, raven-haired woman steps out of the darkness. Her skin is white, her lips blood-red, and her eyes almost completely black, like pools of oil. “There’s no need for weapons. As you can see, I am no threat.”

“What do you want?”

“I could ask the same thing, for you’re trespassing on my land.”

“Your land? This is a national reserve. We’ve got permits,” he says, darting a look at his bag and then back to her.

She smiles and laughs. “Permits mean nothing to the bear, or the wolf, or the eagle, and your words on paper are nothing to me. You have entered my land, which makes you both my prey.”

“What’s wrong with her eyes?” the girl whispers into his ear. The woman laughs once again.

“There is nothing wrong with my eyes, dear. They are evolution. I am what you will all one day become,” she smiles. “Well, not you two, but the others, the ones who survive.” In a flash of movement, she is between them, knocking the woman to the ground and hoisting the man high into the air.

“It’ll only hurt for a moment. Well, that’s what they tell me anyway,” she says, running a fingernail along one of the protruding veins in his neck before biting down. He gasps for air as her teeth pierce the fragile vein, and his blood rushes out into her hungry mouth.

All Good Plans

She digs her fingernails into the floorboards and drags herself closer to the doorway. Quickly, she casts a desperate look over her shoulder at his still unmoving body that lies a few feet away. She reaches out again, dragging herself closer to the door. To her surprise, a foot comes stomping down onto her hand, stopping her in her tracks. She screams in agony as he is on her quickly, grabbing a large handful of hair. He smashes her head into the floor several times before she finally goes limp.

“Fucking BITCH,” he says as he drives a boot into her side. “Thought you could fuck with me, did you? Thought you could make me suffer! Well, suffering is the only thing you’re going to be doing now, you piece of SHIT!” he says, driving another boot into her side.

Five minutes earlier

She smiles at him as she brushes the hair from her eyes. “So, what do you think?”

“I’m not sure, it’s a big risk,” he says, looking up from a piece of paper. “I mean, I can see you’ve done all the calculations, allowed for everything that could go wrong, but there are still so many things that might not work, and, well, fuck, we don’t need more pressure right now, not like this.”

“Don’t be a chicken. There’s no way this can fail, not if we follow the plan, not if we do it exactly like I’ve written out.”

“Your plan’s not as foolproof as you think. There’s still so much that could go wrong. We could end up losing everything, and then what are we going to do?”

“We’ll work it out,” she says, getting up from her seat. “We just can’t keep going on like this, talking about what could be, what life would be like if we had this or that. Let’s just fucking do it, take it, make our lives become what we dream them to be.”

“I-I-I-I, I don’t know, Sammy. We could totally fuck it up. The plan needs to be something simple, something where we have total control over everything and everyone. I just think your plan’s too crazy, too many balls in the air. It just won’t work.”

“Bullshit,” she says, pushing him. “This is a surefire plan, Tommy. There’s no way it could go wrong. Everything is planned out. Everything is calculated to the nearest fraction. IT CAN’T FAIL!”

“Sammy, baby, we…” A loud crash comes from the room opposite, and they both freeze in place. Slowly, they stare towards the doorway to the room. Tommy picks up a revolver from the table, looking over at Sammy as he slowly gets up from his seat and takes several nervous steps towards the door.

“Don’t damage him; he’s not worth anything dead.”

“I know, alright? I know! Just shut up,” he says, placing a hand on the door handle. Taking a deep breath, he pulls it open, and they both stare into the darkness beyond. It’s too late when Tommy notices the wooden post crashing down onto his skull, sending him to the floor in a heap. Sammy turns quickly and frantically strides towards the other doorway as a man steps out of the room. He clutches the post in his grip, then hurls it at her. With a crack, it hits her in the back of the head, and she tumbles to the floor with a violent thud. Desperately, she reaches out, digging her fingernails into the floorboards as she tries to drag herself towards the doorway.

Now

Sammy awakens to a world of pain and confusion. For a few moments, she sits there in silence as her brain tries to fill her in on what happened before she found herself here. She heaves forward, trying to move, only to find herself bound tightly to the chair. She looks up frantically, and her eyes grow wide with fear as the bloody, beaten body of Tommy sits unconscious in a chair opposite her. In-between them both, he sits, a revolver in his hand, and a smug smile on his face.

“Welcome back, sunshine. I wouldn’t worry too much about lover boy there; he’s not coming back anytime soon. I’d worry more about yourself at this stage, because, sugar, I’ve got so many things to show you,” he says with a broad grin.

Behind Your Eyes

It lets out a cry of anger, driving its huge, pulsating arms down. Its fists connect with the ground viciously, as a crack splinters off from the impact point, rushing through the ground like a bolt of lightning towards him.

He watches as the earth beneath him cracks. He leaps sideways as it jerks upwards like a dagger, trying to tear into him. He spins around quickly, crouching on the ground and baring his teeth.

“You have to do better than that if you want to stop me,” he hisses, rushing towards it. Leaping from the ground, he sends a powerful kick to the beast’s face. It makes little to no impact, and the beast smiles as it swipes him away effortlessly.

“Days go by—weeks, months, years even—I stand as I am, unchanged, unmarked. While you, you give these things all you have, even risking your life. Why?”

“If you have to ask, you’ll never understand, brother,” he says, getting to his feet uneasily.

His brother laughs. “I take it I hurt your feelings. Wasted, are we on these? Come back with me, let us be who time designed us to be. Let’s not be swayed by the meat.”

“That’s why you’ll never understand. They’re not just meat; they’re living, breathing beings—beings who love, dance, laugh. Things we used to do, back in the old days before you grew jealous of all this.”

“Don’t mistake my power for jealousy, brother. I agree that the old days are done. We are no longer those who knelt beside him; we are the rulers, we make our choices, and all follow. If only one of us must return, then it will not be you,” he says, tensing his muscles and taking a powerful step forward.

“Go. I’m not coming back either way. I’ve found my place here.”

“What, with her? The human?”

He stares at him for some time, trying to read his brother’s mind, but finds his thoughts blocked.

“What have you done, brother?”

“I’ve done nothing yet. Come with me. Come home and I will continue to do nothing,” he says with a wry smile.

He clenches his hands into fists, his lips curl into a sneer, and his feet dig into the ground, readying himself for impact.

“Your last mistake. I have let you be for far longer than I should’ve. This is for the best, my brother,” he says as the gigantic behemoths charge forward. They crash into each other violently—fists, blood, legs, and knees fly left and right as the two battle for minutes, hours, and then days, until finally, they both stand weary, beaten, and bloody, unable to find enough strength to finish the other.

The beast laughs. “Hasn’t this always been the way? His two favourite sons, made in his image, from the purest thought and the deadliest nightmare, were we born. Your woman, she’s dead by now. Why don’t you come home?”

“Where is she?”

“Does it matter? She is long gone, like all the others. Come with me, brother, this place is not for—”

“WHERE IS SHE!” he screams, his eyes glowing white-hot with light.

He laughs uneasily, surprised by his brother’s anger. “Back where it all began, brother. Back where you laid with the vile woman for the first time, and where I too laid with her as well,” he says with a snarl.

“NO!” he screams as his hands glow brightly. He drives one last powerful punch into the beast’s stomach, splitting it open.

As his brother falls defeated, his light extinguished, he jumps powerfully into the air, clearing miles in a single leap. He comes crashing to the ground with a devastating impact but is unharmed. Then he leaps again and again until he lands a few feet from a tiny, run-down farmhouse. Without stopping, he rushes to the doorway, which hangs from its hinges. He moves quickly from room to room, calling out her name. Finally, he finds her naked, bloody body at the foot of her bed. At once, he is at her side, cradling her weak, fragile form. Slowly her eyes open, and tears run down his face as she smiles weakly.

“Is it over?” she asks.

“It’s over thanks to you. Now rest up; you’ll be okay,” he says as he runs a hand through her blood-soaked hair. She laughs softly.

“You still haven’t got this lying thing down yet. Your eyes give it away,” she says, closing hers.

Pundit

“It’s not like that, I swear,” he says, as tears run down his cheeks.

“Bullshit! If it’s not like that, then why are we even having this conversation?” she snaps back.

“W-W-What? You’re the one with the overactive imagination, attacking me with your crazy stories and baseless accusations. That’s why we’re having this conversation!”

She slaps him across the face, and almost instantly he feels the blood rush to his cheek. He twitches nervously, then smiles. “Bitch,” he hisses.

“I’d rather be a bitch than a worthless whore like you,” she hisses back.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Are you calling me a worthless whore?”

“No, you fucktard, I’m calling her a worthless whore. You’re just a pathetic middle-aged man who still thinks he’s a kid!” she says, pointing towards the silent girl standing a few feet away.

“S-Seriously? S-She’s a whore? Are you actually taking any time at all to think about what the fucking hell you’re saying? She doesn’t have the capacity to be a whore, let alone the, well, you know, the parts. Fuck, Amy, get your facts straight before you start spewing insults around!”

“My facts? Are you being fucking serious, TREVOR? She’s a FUCKING WHORE! I know it, you know it, and she, SHE FUCKING-WELL knows it! So why don’t you stop fucking protecting her and just admit it!”

“Admit WHAT? Nothing is fucking happening!”

“Bullshit, I know something is going on between you two, so stop fucking denying it! Just admit it! Admit what you’ve done. Admit it now, and, and, well, and maybe we can all move on, together, past this.”

“Amy, for crying out loud, I know, okay? I really do. I know the last few months, stuck in this fucking bunker, it’s been hell. I know it’s started playing with your mind. It’s happening to me too, and I want out of here just as much as you do. I wanna be up there, not stuck in the confines of this bunker. Not stuck looking at the same four fucking walls twenty-four hours a day. But, honey, baby, we’ve got no other choice, not yet anyway, not until we know we can go back out there,” he says, placing a hand on hers. “So believe me when I tell you this, nothing is happening between Veronica and me, nothing at all, it’s just all in your head.”

“What the fuck? The FUCKING doll has a name NOW?”

Millions

“It’s easy, you either sign it all over to me, or both of you get a bullet to the head!” she says, holding the rifle towards them.

“Marion, this is ridiculous! Put the gun down, and let’s talk ab—” But she doesn’t allow him to finish his sentence. She fires a shot from the rifle, hitting him squarely in the centre of his chest. He stands there for a few long, agonising moments as the shock slowly sets in. The girl hiding beneath the bed’s doona begins to scream erratically. Slowly, his eyes look up at her, his mouth drops open, and he collapses to the ground, stone-cold dead. She fires another shot, and it rips into the doona. The girl hiding underneath lets out a gut-wrenching scream and then falls silent. A red stain quickly grows from the doona and across the sheets.

Seconds pass while she stands there, admiring her handiwork. Then the door bursts open, and he runs into the house. Sweat drips from him as if he had run through a storm. His heart races a million miles an hour. Desperately, his eyes search the hallway. But as soon as he sees her, and the smoking rifle in her hands, he knows he’s too late.

“W-W-W-What, what did you do?” he yells as he runs towards her. Without hesitation, she swings the rifle in his direction, and he throws his hands up in the air, if only for a second. Quickly, he drops them again, knowing they’d do little to shield him if she fired. “M-M-Mother, w-w-what the fuck did you do?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like THAT! I did what that lying sack of shit deserved, what all pieces of shit like him deserve,” she says, spitting a mouthful of yellowish saliva onto the floor. “I sent him and the whore he was fucking to be judged by their maker.”

“F-F-Fuck, Mother! Have you lost it? What the fucking hell were you thinking? Couldn’t you have just left him?”

Her lip trembles, and her grip on the rifle tightens. “We had a prenup. I’d get nothing if I walked away, and his new floozy, she’d end up with everything. I couldn’t let that happen, not after all these years, not after everything I went through. I wasn’t going to lose it, not without a fight!”

“Don’t you see, don’t you realise? You’ll lose it all now! You’ll get nothing, and you’ll end up going to prison, for what?”

“For everything. We’ll make it look like a home invasion. All you need to do is be my alibi, and we’ll share in all of it, together!” she says.

“You’re crazy, Mother. It’s over, you’re done. I’m calling the police, and nothing you can say will stop me! I won’t be a part of this. I won’t be part of your plans!”

“Don’t be a fool, Jeremiah. We can salvage this, all of it. Just remember what I taught you?”

“What you taught me? When did you teach me anything, Mother? All you ever wanted was Daddy’s millions, and that’s never going to happen now. Don’t you see? I’ll end up with everything, so I don’t need to help you do anything. The best I can do for you, the only thing I can do for you, is to give you a head start on the police!”

She lowers the rifle slowly as a tear runs down her cheek. “I-I-I knew you’d say that,” she says softly, before raising the rifle again and firing.

Do You See?

Somewhere out there, they’re waiting, waiting for each and every one of us.

You think I’m lying?

Trust me, I’m not. I’ve seen them out there, in the shadows, waiting for you, watching. Their faces disfigured, their bodies twisted beyond anything we have ever witnessed before, or thought could be done. They are the wasted, the rabid things that haunt the outskirts of our world, and they are coming for us.

Don’t you see them?

Don’t you hear their raspy cries for air, as they try to suck in breath after breath of nothing? A dry whistling sound, like blowing over the lip of an empty bottle.

Tell me you hear it, tell me you feel it—the fear—as they only want to feast upon what we are. Don’t you hear it?

You think I’m crazy, don’t you?

You think I’ve lost my mind, but you’re wrong. I see clearly; my eyes are no longer sugar-coated like they once were, like yours are. I now see everything. I see the skies for what they really are. I see the seas of blood, red and deep. I see all and more, through the sins of time, the shedding of skin. The world I see, I see it for what it is.

Do you want to as well?

Do you want to see the beast that hides in the darkness, waiting to strike?

Do you want to be free?

Then let go, sit before me, and take all that I am inside you. Let me empty myself down into your stomach, where I will impregnate your seed with my spark. Then, as it flourishes, as it grows, you will be as I am, birthed into a new world, into a new life. One where you will see as I do, and then we will fight the beasts together, and we will win!

So, kneel, and open yourself up for me to enter. But be warned, once you have taken me inside you, there is no going back, there is no halting the change, for they will know you are one like me, and they will come for you. So choose wisely…

Pale Fact

He grips the blade and thrusts it deep into her stomach. Her eyes grow wide, her mouth falls open, and she quivers with fear.

“W-W-Why? Why?” she asks. He smiles and pushes the blade in deeper.

“Why not? That is the real question,” he replies. She gathers all the energy she has left in her dying body and drives her head into his, sending him reeling backward. He stumbles and crashes to the ground, clutching his head. “What the FUCK?” he yells, his lips twisting in anger and his brow furrowing. “I was going to take you quickly, out of respect for you being a woman and all. But now, NOW I’m going to make this last a very long, long, agonising time!” he yells as he scrambles to his feet.

“Grow up!” she hisses as she rips free of her bindings and catches him mid-stride, thrusting him against the wall. Her face twists and contorts, her eyes glow red, and her hair stands on end. “YOU DARE TRY TO TAKE MY MORTAL VISAGE?” she yells, gripping him by the throat and ripping it from him. He chokes violently as blood gushes out, filling his throat and rushing down into his stomach and lungs. He jerks around wildly as his life essence vacates his cold, lifeless body through his eyes. She smiles as she quickly opens her mouth and draws his essence inside her, then drops his empty, dead corpse to the floor.

“Fool, to think you thought you were enough to better me. Pathetic.”

“That’s not exactly how it was planned. Jester got a bit eager, is all,” a voice says from behind her. Slowly, she turns around to face twelve heavily armed men who stand ready to attack.

“Is this all for little old me?” she says, running a bloody finger around her deranged smile.

“Lady, this ain’t all we’ve prepared for you. When this is all over, that smile ain’t gonna be so pretty.”

She laughs. “Do you not realise how stupid that line sounds? ‘That smile ain’t gonna be so pretty’? Are you trying to fuck me or kill me?”

He raises a shotgun. “Believe me, I ain’t thinking with anything else other than this old piece of weaponry. It wasn’t my intention to try and be intelligent, just stating a fact,” he says as he pulls the trigger.

She moves as if everything else is in slow motion, and each man feels the sharp rush of her clawed, bony hands as they tear into their throats. Until she comes to him, that is. Instead, she defiantly raises him high in the air while the others drop to the ground as time is restored.

“Now tell me, is my smile still pretty?”

The Book of Words

They say everything has an ending, everything ever created, from the beginning of time until the end. Everything has its complete journey mapped out, and we, all of us, are but pawns with no real abilities, just those we are given.

It seems like a crazy thing to believe, I know. I found it hard to at first. But once you see the truth for what it is, once you see destiny, you change somehow; you become something different. Well, that’s the way I see it anyway. I could be talking out of my arse for all you know, but maybe I’m not. If I’m not, can you see the truth as I have?

I’ll start with a question and then build on from there.

Have you ever had déjà vu?

Don’t say that you haven’t because we all have. A lot of people like to think different things about déjà vu. Some make reference to ‘The Matrix,’ thinking it’s a hiccup, a reset of the systems because something’s gone wrong. Balls to that idea. Others think it’s like an echo of an alternate reality. It gets worse as the ideas get more convoluted. Believe me, once you begin down the rabbit hole, you have to keep going just for the sake of sanity.

Anyway, I was fortunate enough—well, maybe fortunate is the wrong word to use. Instead, let’s say I happened to find the truth about everything, and when I say everything, I mean existence as a package deal. There are no niggling questions about what if it means this, or what if it means that. I found out firsthand the true reason behind what déjà vu is, why it happens, and how it happens.

That’s what I wanted to share with you—no, not wanted, that’s the wrong way to put it. Rather, let’s say I had to share it with you because it’s what I must do; it’s written that way. Before I get caught up in all the little details, because that’s not what this is about or what I’m writing about, I want to tell you about our path—the one that’s written before we’re even born, the path that he or she wrote for us.

Okay, I get that feeling, the one where you just rolled your eyes. It was the he or she part, right? It’s always that part that gets the eyes rolling. Every time I do this, every time I repeat THAT part, eyes roll. I get it, and that’s okay because most people want to believe God is some old white dude with a long flowing beard and a sheet draped over his bits for clothing. So you go ahead and do that; it’s not a problem, really, I’m cool with that. But my story isn’t going to paint that picture for you. In fact, my story really isn’t going to mention much about him or her again, only in passing. Kind of like a reference annexed at the bottom of the page.

Now we’ve got that part over, I’ll continue where I was before I interrupted myself.

Déjà vu, what is it? Well, let me guide your mind’s eye for a moment. How do we tap into such a mythical idea as the mind’s eye? It’s more about listening than seeing. So close those big ones and picture a book. For the sake of the experience, we’ll call the book Life. Now the cover—well, it can look like anything, but let’s say it’s a picture of a beautiful blue sky with a couple of soft white clouds floating about, and the word LIFE is stamped on the front in big bold letters.

Are you with me? Have you got it so far?

Great, I knew this would be an easy one for you to understand.

Now, open it up and turn to the first page. If we are doing this right, it should be blank, as is the second, and that’s okay because they always are, from what I’ve seen anyway. That should start to change by the time we get to the third, as there should be some words written there, not a lot but a few.

Let’s be daring and skip a few pages. Honestly, I don’t care how many, as many as you think you need to skip, but don’t go to the end. No one really wants to know how life ends, right? Now, if you’re like me, and most other people who find this, you’ll go forward a few pages from this point in time, hoping to change what’s already mapped out for them. Just like you did then. I know you did it, I felt something. I’m sure you did too—a cold shiver, nausea, arthritis?

All these things and more are signs, and then there’s déjà vu. That’s when your mind’s eye takes something in and turns too many pages forward, recalling the words you read, making it seem like you’ve lived this moment before.

When in reality, you just knew it was going to happen because you’d read it.

Tummy Rub

“Why would you even think we could sort this out? You leave me for who knows where, and now, six months later, you just turn up and expect everything to be fucking normal? You think you can just walk in, and everything will be like it was. Well, shit stain, it’s not!” she yells as she throws a mug at him. He quickly ducks to the side, holding his hands up in the air, as she grabs another mug from the sink and prepares to throw it.

“I can explain! REALLY, I can! But not while you’re throwing shit at me,” he says quickly. She hesitates as she thinks over his words, then throws the mug anyway. It hits him squarely on the side of the head, knocking him to the ground with a thud. She holds her hand to her mouth in shock and slowly makes her way to his side.

“I-I-I-I’m, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” she asks as she kneels beside him, suddenly feeling nauseous at the sight of the blood rushing from the wound. “Oh God, Jerry, that looks deep. Can you…?” And she throws up over him. “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” she says as she slowly forces herself to her feet, while Jerry does the same, steadying himself on the table. He looks down at his shirt, then at Caroline, and begins to laugh. She stares at him, confused for a moment, before she too is laughing uncontrollably.

“Get your shirt off, and I’ll throw it in the wash. I’m so sorry. As you can see from my condition, I’m a bit hormonal,” she says as she rubs her tummy.

“You don’t need to be. It’s me who is sorry. Can I please explain?” he says as he pulls his shirt off slowly.

“Do you really think any explanation will make what you did sound alright?”

“Isn’t it worth a try?”

“If it was worth anything, you would’ve contacted me earlier than this, considering I’m carrying your fucking child!”

“Please, all you have to do is trust me. Once I tell you what happened, once I explain, you’ll understand why I couldn’t,” he says as she hands him a cloth, which he presses against the cut on his head.

“Well then,” she says, with her hands on her hips, “stop dicking around and tell me this huge bullshit story that’ll somehow vindicate why, two hours after I told you I was pregnant with your child, you vanished into thin air for six months.”

He sits down at the table, runs a hand through his hair, and looks over at her. “When you told me we were going to have a baby, I was over the moon. I felt amazing and knew I had to set things right with my old man, you know, get him on board with all this. So I drove up to the old homestead out in the middle of nowhere, and we had a chat about everything that was going to happen during the next nine months. Over the course of the conversation, he suggested he should come stay with us for a few weeks. He thought maybe it would be good for everyone. So while he sorted out the animals and packed his shit, I headed back home to set it all up. Along the way back, I got a flat tyre. The car swerved off the road, and I ended up in a ditch. My phone was busted in the crash, so I had no way of contacting anyone because I don’t know anyone’s bloody number these days. I thought I’d have to walk the whole way back, but about five minutes later, an old-timer and his two sons came driving past. They helped pull the car out of the ditch and took me back to their place, where they had a phone,” he says as he shuffles his feet on the floor and pulls the cloth away from his forehead, the bleeding now stopped.

“And?” she says, standing there with crossed arms.

He looks back at her and bites his bottom lip. “Once we got to their house, I found out they didn’t have a phone, and they weren’t really interested in helping me. It turned out they’d booby-trapped the road with spikes and had been abducting people along the road for the last fifty-odd years. As you can imagine, knowing me well enough, I was petrified and scared for my life. That’s when he introduced me to his six daughters and told me I had to make love to each of them three times a day or they’d kill me. I didn’t want to, but I knew if I was to get back to you and our unborn baby, I’d have to do whatever it took. So I did what they told me to do, no matter how degrading, no matter how explicit, I did it. For four months, I made love to his six daughters three times a day, sometimes four. All the while, I was slowly plotting my way out, planning my escape—a plan I successfully carried out four days ago. I managed to escape the cupboard they kept me chained up in when I wasn’t making love to his daughters. I stole one of the hundred-odd cars they had littering around their backyard and drove all the way to the police station, where they detained me for questioning, and only today allowed me to leave. I didn’t call because I knew you wouldn’t believe me over the phone. I knew, for you to believe me, I had to do it in person,” he says as a tear runs down his face.

She stands there silent, her hand on her chest, fighting back the tears, as she lets out a stuttered breath, “Oh my God, Jerry, you poor thing. I feel so ashamed of myself for thinking you’d run out on us. I should’ve known something had happened. I should’ve realised. Can you ever forgive me?” she says as she grabs his hand tightly and squeezes it.

“Of course I can, my love. You weren’t to know; none of us were. I’m just so glad I made it back to be with you and our child, where I belong.”

“Can I ask you the only question I have?”

“You can ask me anything, honey. I’m an open book.”

“What happened to your father?”

“Sorry?”

Dialla

To say my brother and I have had an eventful life would be putting it bluntly; you could even say it started when we first escaped our mother’s womb, nine weeks earlier than planned. For that decidedly inept choice, we spent three months in the intensive care unit of the baby’s ward at St. Alban Children’s Hospital. The years that followed had us in and out of hospital for a range of things. But as we got older and became stronger, we spent less and less time there. My brother Jesse would tell you differently, but that’s because he’s more of a jerk than me. Of course, it’s not his fault; it’s just the way it all turned out.

The story of real importance here begins when the Fargans moved in next door to us when we were thirteen, and we met Dialla.

Mum was always a major nosey parker, and nothing would ever be out of her watchful eye. So, when they moved in, she couldn’t let their arrival go without sticking her nose in the front door and inviting us all over for a welcome-to-the-neighbourhood meal. The Fargans, of course, wanted nothing more than to be left alone and settle into their new home. But they quickly learned Mum is a stubborn woman, so they agreed to the dinner, and Mum relentlessly went about creating dishes for the night.

Half their belongings still hadn’t been unpacked when we arrived for dinner, so Mum went about directing traffic and getting Mrs. Fargans ready for the night ahead. That’s when we first saw her, Dialla. Her name was just about as unusual as she was, but both Jesse and I were smitten instantly. She looked like she had just walked out of a Playboy magazine, and our teenage hormones could not control themselves. Dinner was a disaster, with Mum taking every opportunity to embarrass us, but Dialla just smiled and batted those beautiful eyelids at us the whole time.

After dinner, Mum and Mrs. Fargans disappeared off into the kitchen, while Dad and Mr. Fargans shared a beer and talked about football and cars. It seemed they had a lot in common and became quick friends. As the years went on, Dad and Mr. Fargans, or Uncle Trev, as we ended up calling him, opened a mechanic shop together and made it pretty successful.

But it was what happened next that changed the whole night. Jesse and I were left to awkwardly talk with Dialla, who, after five minutes of awkward silence, asked us excitedly if we wanted to see something awesome down in the cellar. Jesse and I didn’t hesitate to say yes. You see, when the Millers lived there, it was a creepy place, but at the same time, it was awesome. I had my first and only feel of Kelly Miller’s boobs in that cellar, and Jesse, well, he got to feel something a bit lower down. That all happened the week before the Millers left, so the memories were still fresh in our minds.

Now, for the sake of being honest—because, well, I have to be honest for the sake of the story—I was instantly erect when she took us down. Dialla had set the cellar up as a room, kinda like a studio apartment, with a silk curtain separating the room off from her bed. To start with, she got Jesse and me to sit down, and then she kissed both of us, full tongue and all. It was amazing. I made a mental note to make sure that when I was to write my memoirs, this room would be considered my good luck charm. She then proceeded to do a little dance, and what happened next, I’ll never forget.

“So, how far have you boys been with a girl?” she asked.

“All the way,” Jesse blurted out. I looked at him quickly, knowing he was a lying sack of shit.

“What about you, Bobby? You been all the way yet?” she asked as she leaned in towards me so I could see right down her top, and I felt my erect penis twitch with excitement.

“Umm, sure, hasn’t everyone?” I replied nervously. She just laughed.

“You boys know there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin, don’t you?” she said, laughing as she stepped behind the curtain. “Now honestly, have you both been all the way with a girl?” she asked like a schoolteacher. We both looked at the floor and said no in unison.

“I thought as much,” she said with a laugh. “Well, how about we change that?”

It was at that precise moment I came in my pants, and I’m fairly sure from the noise Jesse made, he did as well.

“Don’t worry, boys, I’m still good to go,” Dialla said with a laugh as she came out from behind the curtain. Both Jesse and I dropped our mouths open with indescribable fear. Standing there was the most beautiful girl either of us had ever seen, and where it should have been nothing but hair, was a big, and when I say big, I mean fucking huge, hard penis. Jesse looked at me again, and I could tell he was thinking the same thing I was, and we both ran home as fast as our legs could carry us.

It was pretty awkward for a while after that. Eventually, it turned out that Dialla had an overly weird sense of humour and also enjoyed the occasional dress-up. Had we stayed around a bit longer, or the light had been better in the room, we would’ve realised it was a dildo that she had strapped on, and not a real one. Of course, we laughed about it when we found out, and over time we got used to Dialla’s sense of humour. That’s not to say it didn’t get us into a lot of trouble, because it did—more trouble than I like to remember. Too many times we’d end up running from someone or something. To say meeting Dialla changed my life is an understatement. I even married the crazy woman. But I swear from that day on I never looked at Playboy the same way again.

The Roundhead Calls You

“You’re kidding me?” he says as he rolls around on the bed, the phone pressed firmly to his ear.

“Why would I kid you? It’s true, it’s everywhere. God, I can’t believe you haven’t heard; it’s all over the news and social media. Haven’t you seen any of it?” she says with a giggle.

“Nah, I’ve been on a Netflix binge for the last twelve hours.”

“What the hell could you be watching for that long?”

“The first two seasons of Hemlock Grove. I was about to start the last before you called. I haven’t even left my room since I got home yesterday; just me, a twenty-five, and some munchies,” he says as he pulls his laptop over to his bed, bringing up a browser and quickly typing in ‘Roundhead murders.’ The search results litter the screen with news reports about the killings from across the world. His eyes widen as he presses the top result, which was only updated fifteen minutes ago. His mouth drops open as he quickly scans over it. He feels his hands begin to tremble as he places the phone back to his ear.

“Is this shit for real?”

“That’s what they’re saying. At first, I thought it was just over-advertising for the story. Like, these guys had thrown a shitload of money at it in the hope it would, I don’t know, make more money. Like when that movie came out a few months ago, and they were saying some guy died while he was watching it, and then all those other people said strange shit happened to them later on when they got home. But after a little while, more and more bodies turned up. It’s, like, fucking worldwide. There have been at least a million reports so far, and it doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon.”

“Fuck, and it’s all got to do with this story?”

“Apparently. A few hours after the first story was posted online, the murders started happening. Three people in my street have been found dead so far, and another eight two streets over. It’s like something out of a horror film.”

“NO WAY?”

“I’m NOT kidding,” she says. “You should go have a look at the site before they take it down. I mean, they’d have to, right?”

“Well, yeah, if it’s connected to the murders, it’d make sense that they’d take it down. What’s the address?”

“My three sixty-five challenge dot com, the three and the five are numbers, not words. The Roundhead should be the first post. Trust me, it’s right up your alley. The next one comes out tonight, if they don’t take it down, that is.”

“Okay, give me a second,” he says as he types the address into the web browser and waits patiently. But a four-one-four error comes up on the screen, and he lets out a sigh. “Looks like they’ve taken it down already.”

“Really?” she says as she checks her computer. “Nah, it’s still there. I’ll share a link on your Facebook wall. You’re obviously typing it in the wrong way,” she says. He can hear her typing away. “Okay, done,” she says as the line sparks with static.

“Macy? You still there?”

“Yeah, what the fuck was that?”

“Fuck knows, some sort of interference. Anyway, I’ll give it a look when I get off the phone and buzz you back once I’m done,” he waits for an answer, but there’s only silence as the static rips through the phone line again. “Mace?” she still doesn’t answer. “You still there, Mace?”

“T-T-T-There’s a weird creepy kid standing in my room, staring at me,” she says softly. He can tell she’s nervous.

“WHAT?” he says as he lifts himself up off his bed. “Real funny, Macy, I said I’d read…” he stops mid-sentence as he hears a strange disembodied voice of a young girl on the other end begin to speak.

“Over the centuries, you’ve called it by many names. Your people still remember the last time it came and played its games. But this time, its power is stronger than then, as the world shares its story over and over again. So call to your God, call him by name, but nothing will save you, for you’ve entered its game.”

The static rips through the phone once more, and he can hear Macy scream on the other end of the phone just before it goes dead.

Frantic Motion

“You have to trust me,” he says as he stares into her hopeless, tear-filled eyes. She nods, signalling that she understands, as she bites down on her bottom lip.

“With everything I have, I know you’ll save us. I know you’ll get us out of here,” she says softly.

He smiles weakly. “Good, because what we’re about to do requires you to do exactly what I say, when I say it. You can’t stop and think. You can’t wonder why I’m telling you to do what you have to do. You just have to move. No thinking, no stopping, no nothing—just one flowing, unrelenting, unending movement. Do you understand?” he asks, nodding his head, his eyes locked on hers.

“I understand, Kevin. I know what we’ve got to do, and I trust you. Whatever you want me to do, whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it,” she says, offering her hand. He looks down at it, then back up at her face. His smile fades, and he shakes his head.

“I can’t carry you. I can’t hold onto you. You just have to follow. If you slip up, if you slow down, if you fall or stop, then it’s your problem, not mine,” he says. She pulls her hand back in surprise, and he smiles again. “I love you, honey. Don’t think anything but that. It’s just that I can’t do this if I’m carrying you as well. So just follow, listen, obey, and we’ll both make it to the other side, I swear.”

“Okay, just tell me when, and I’ll do what you need.”

“A few more moments,” he says, looking back at the towering landscape before them. Fires burn out of control, the very earth crumbling, falling into the abyss below. He studies their path, calculating each manoeuvre, each twist and turn, towards a little grey tile that holds their salvation, their hope, and, more importantly, their freedom.

“NOW!” he yells, leaping forward, grabbing a dangling electrical cord, and swinging down to the ground. She quickly follows, and they both run forward, dodging pieces of buildings crashing to the ground. The debris tears holes in the earth, opening more pockets of the unending abyss of nothingness, extending its reach as it swallows more and more of the world. They run forward, closing in on the tile, the platform. He glances over his shoulder and locks eyes with her for a moment. The look on her face is one of dread. All too late, he turns around and finds himself tumbling headlong into the nothingness.

He hears her cry out, and then only silence follows. Moments later, a computerised voice declares him dead, and he lets out a stuttered, long breath of frustration. The headset is removed from his eyes, and he stares at the screen as she makes it onto the platform, completing the level.