#HorrorBites 1 : A Bag Of Heads

imageJessica moved silently through the trees, searching for any signs of other people, and finding none. She carefully searched the area around the house, making sure no traps were present. She took her time. She needed to know the man was the only person in the house.

She remembered the bodies. Six naked women. Not even buried. All naked, bruised, battered. He’d raped them, then beaten them. Then beheaded then. The eagles told her all six had been alive when he took their heads. The bodies rested in the woods around the house. Footprints all around them lead back to the house.

The wolves and eagles guarded the bodies, protecting them from scavengers until she could bury them.

She had to stop him before he killed again.

She waited hours past the sunset, until she was certain he was asleep before she approached the house. She picked up the axe he kept by the front door, then slipped inside the house. She moved through the house slowly, making no sound as she searched for him.

He was asleep, face down, on the sofa by the windows. He snored deeply. Jessica used what she’d learned from the wolves, and silently crossed the room. He never heard her. When she reached him, she raised the axe, and slammed it down on the back of his neck, severing his spine. She wasn’t proud of what she’d done. She didn’t like to kill, but knew, sometimes there was no other choice.

As she turned to leave, she spotted a large duffel bag beneath the kitchen table. A note on the bag read “A Bag Of Heads”. She knew what was inside. The heads of the six murdered women.

Jessica sank to the floor, and cried. The whole word had gone insane.

299 words
@LurchMunster


Laura James has started a new flash fiction challenge, #HorrorBites. It happens once every two weeks, and is specific to the fiction genre, horror. I wrote this for #HorrorBites. Please go read all the other #HorrorBites stories. They are well written, and just might scare you.

#VisDare 14 : Normalcy

At the end of the walkway over the lake, we came to a set of tiny houses scattered along the shore of the lake. She stopped in front of one. “This is my home.” Inside, we sat down on a sofa, facing a white wall. I heard her in my head, “History. Start before the fall.”

Black and white Images appeared on the wall. “Taran. This is our history. Mine. Yours. everyone’s.” The images were absolutely terrifying. Huge buildings. Miles of them. No grass anywhere. Concrete and asphalt and glass. And people. Thousands upon thousands of them. Some of them had animal slaves, held to them by leashes, wrapped around their necks. Machines on wheels, filled with people were everywhere.

“Our ancestors believed they could do whatever they wanted.”

“But,” I finally spoke, “that’s insane!”

“It was. And it nearly lead to the end of all life on Earth.”


This is the 11th piece in a continuing story I’m working through for Angela Goff’s Visual Dare. Please read the other entries in this week’s Visual Dare challenge.

Another Headline

There it was.
All over CNN.
And ABC.
And CBS.
And NBC.

It was in the newspaper
The next morning.
With pictures.
And big letters.
So you couldn’t miss it.

The story of another soul
That went nuts-o
In the world.
And got a gun.
And started shooting
Everyone.

These stories always ask
The same question.
Time and time again.
How?
How could this happen?
How could anyone
Do what that person did?

This is always followed
By the inevitable.
By the words
Everybody knows.

They need to shoot that bastard
Dead.
Killing people like he did.
Running amok with a gun.
Loosing control like that.
Kill his ass.
Get him off the face
Of this Earth with us.
So we can feel safe
Once more.

We don’t need people
Like him.

No one seems to realize
That’s why he got the gun
In the first place.

To strike back
At the world
That was doing all it could
To murder him.

To crush his dreams.
And make him over.
Into someone
Just like everyone
In the society
In which he lives.

Perhaps he never attended
A weekend party
In college.
Because he knew
He’d end up all alone.
Hiding on a wall.
Wishing it was over.
And he could just go home.

Perhaps he didn’t shave his face
Every single day.
Before he went to work.
Never looking
Professional enough.

Perhaps he grew up friendless.
Isolated.
And alone.
Because he never quite fit in.
With any of the groups.
The clubs.
The clicks.
Or other social structures
That people always form.

Oh,
I know what you’re thinking.
The man just went insane.
Yes.
He did.
I won’t argue with that.

But my autistic mind
Doesn’t feel the social panic
That your’s does.
I don’t hear the chorus of disgust,
Of shock,
Of disbelief.
That I know you feel.

I simply shake my head.
And say prayers to God above.
To take care of the souls
Of those that died before their time.

Then I ask Him please
To touch the broken heart
Of the soul
That only wants to die.
That has given up on life.
Because it’s hurt him so.

And lastly I ask God
To be ready.
Because the truth is
That I know.
I will happen
Time and time again.

Because no one
On this Earth.
Does a single thing
To change the causes
Of such things.

And I wait, and watch.
Because I know
That someday soon
I’ll see another story
On TV.

And I’ll see another headline.

In the news.

Thursday, 05 April 2012

Another Headline

There it was.

All over CNN.

And ABC.

And CBS.

And NBC.

It was in the newspaper

The next morning.

With pictures.

And big letters.

So you couldn’t miss it.

The story of another soul

That went nuts-o

In the world.

And got a gun.

And started shooting

Everyone.

These stories always ask

The same question.

Time and time again.

How?

How could this happen?

How could anyone

Do what that person did?

This is always followed

By the inevitable.

By the words

Everybody knows.

They need to shoot that bastard

Dead.

Killing people like he did.

Running amok with a gun.

Loosing control like that.

Kill his ass.

Get him off the face

Of this Earth with us.

So we can be safe

Once more.

We don’t need people

Like him.

No one seems to realize

That’s why he got the gun

In the first place.

To strike back

At the world

That was doing all it could

To murder him.

To crush his dreams.

And make him over.

Into someone

Just like everyone

In the society

In which he lives.

Perhaps he never attended

A weekend party

In college.

Because he new

He’d end up all alone.

Hiding on a wall.

Wishing it was over.

And he could just go home.

Perhaps he didn’t shave his face

Every single day.

Before he went to work.

Never looking quite professional

Enough.

Perhaps he grew up friendless.

Isolated.

And alone.

Because he never quite fit in.

With any of the groups.

The clubs.

The clicks.

Or other social structures

That people always form.

Oh,

I know what you’re thinking.

The man just went insane.

Yes.

He did.

I won’t argue with that.

But my autistic mind

Doesn’t feel the social panic

That your’s does.

I don’t hear the chorus of disgust,

Of shock,

Of disbelief.

That I know you feel.

I simply shake my head.

And say prayers to God above.

To take care of the souls

Of those that died before their time.

Then I ask Him please

To touch the broken heart

Of the soul

That only wants to die.

That has given up on life.

Because it’s hurt him so.

And lastly I ask God

To be ready.

Because the truth is

That I know.

I will happen

Time and time again.

Because no one

On this Earth.

Does a single thing

To change the causes

Of such things.

And I wait, and watch.

Because I know

That someday soon

I’ll see another story

On TV.

And I’ll see another headline.

In the news.

Irrational People

There are many times
When people just strike me
As being illogical,
Irrational,
And perhaps even
Insane.

Take the topic of gasoline
As an example.

Here’s the simple facts
About gasoline,
And oil,
In our free market
Economy.

The free market says
When something starts
To run out.
But the demand for that something
Remains the same.
The price of that something
Goes up.
Because it’s harder to get.
And there’s less of it.

Is oil an infinite resource
On the planet Earth?
I don’t believe it is.
And the world’s been using
More and more of it
Every year
For better than 100 years.

Sooner or later
We’ll start to run out
Of the oil
That we’ve always used.

That’s just simple math.
It’s like the supply
Of fresh water.
It’s a limited resource.
And you can use it up.
And when you do.
Well.

History is rife with examples
Of what happens
When a resource
A society depends on
Runs out.

And history pretty much says
That the society
Collapses
When such a resource
Disappears.

Oil, and the gasoline
That’s made from it,
Have been an interesting
Thing to watch
Over the past 35 years.

I find it entertaining
That as oil becomes
More difficult to find.
And more expensive
To obtain,
That almost everyone
I encounter
Almost ever day
Reacts to the price of gasoline
The same way.

“Drill! Now!”

I’m left wondering
If any of them realize
That by drilling now,
To get more
Of the gasoline they want,
All that will really happen
Is the supply will run out
Even faster
Than it’s running out now.

This is what I mean
When I say that people
Sometimes seem insane
To me.

We don’t need the oil.
We don’t need to drill now.
We don’t need to sink
More and more of our resources
And our economy
In getting more
Of something that’s running out.

We need to be smarter than that.
And find something
To replace the oil
That we use now.
And we need to do that
Before the oil runs out.

‘Cause if the oil runs out
Before we find
A usable replacement.

Can you spell chaos?
How about anarchy?

I keep forgetting
That no one I know
Believes that we can learn
A single thing
From history.

I’ve had great fun
In the past few years.
Listening to the people
That I know
As they complain
About the price of gasoline.

I saw the price
Had no where to go
But up
20 years ago.

In 1996,
I bought a Honda Civic.
That got 38 miles to the gallon.
And in August
And September
That car would get 40
Or more.

We had to sell that car
In 2007.
But in 2008,
We bought a Toyota Yaris
To replace it.

I’m somewhat disturbed
That the Yaris I drive now
Averages only 36 MPG.

We’ve gone backwards
On fuel economy.

Now, during all the years
That my family and I
Have driven cars that get
The kind of mileage
That they do
We’ve seen all our neighbors
Buy new vehicles.
Knowing ding well
That a pickup truck
Burns gas
As if it was a cheap
As dirt.

It was a choice
That they all made.
To buy the wrong damn car.

And I’m not sorry at all
When I laugh at them
Every time they buy
Another tank of gas
For $70, or $80,
Or even more.

Yes, the oil companies
Are making more profit
Than they ever have.
Because the price of the oil
That they provide
Has gone up.

And the cost to find that oil
Has gone way up too.
And it will continue to.

Face it,
Silly people
Of this world.

It’s just flat cheaper
To drill for oil
In the desert
Of the Middle East
Than it is
To drill for oil
10,000 feet or more
Beneath the surface
Of the ocean.

I’d think that even you guys
Could figure that one out.

Geeze.

As I said before,
Sometimes the people that I know
Seem so very illogical,
And even irrational
To me.