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Since my stories would be considered "graphic" and would quickly get me in trouble with someone, I'm going to post my stories here where I cannot be stopped!!! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!! So I hope you'll enjoy the self-proclamed "Horror Section of Gaia"
This one is one of my shorter works and is by no means my best. Either way, I hope you enjoy and I have a smaller one as an add-on to this story which I will post immediately after this one.
DREAM VI
Unseen
Chapter 1
I enter the room, the smell of sex pervaded my senses. I can see clearly, even in the dim hotel room, that what happened was obviously a random murder. The sheets of the bed tossed about, whether by the sex or the murder was uncertain. Blood stained the pearl carpet, coating the once white sheets a deep crimson in its center. Within that blood pool laid a once beautiful woman, she was now a one-hundred pound pile of flesh. There was obviously no screams to be heard, the killer had guests in the rooms on either side, they heard nothing. So the killer took his time, starting the night out with a bit of fun, cutting her throat, then taking his time quartering and disemboweling her right on the bed. That stain will never come out, no matter how many times you wash it. The worst part is how they discovered her, the fire department being alerted to one of the hotel rooms emitting smoke from its windows, only to find a flaming pile of human in the middle of the bed. So now I have every liquid that could be in one room at the same time strewn everywhere, blood, water and bile covering all four walls. The room resembled Hell.
We found no marks or semen, the man either burned it all away or he wore gloves and a condom, odd combination. If he wore gloves during the act, didn't she become aware that something was wrong? The report stated that she was alive during the time of the act, so he had to have been holding her down by force, or he had cut her throat and then proceeded with rape. Humans truly can be monsters. We don't know who she was, her fingertips were burned to the bone and all her teeth were pulled, probably while she was still alive. She is perfectly a Jane Doe in every way, not a trace to go on.
It has been two days now, it took that long to filter the crime scene for information. I'm now interviewing the whitnesses in-depth to try and get some answers. My first stop is the hotel again, I want to see how much the owner remembers. This guy was old, not much hair on his head and very close to being clinically blind, how he can still walk is a miracle. "Sir? Sir, I need to ask you a few questions about the murder in room five." I flashed my badge, but I don't think he saw it. "You're not a reporter are ya?" The old man asked loudly, I think he needs to turn his hearing aid up. "No sir, I'm a detective for the Colorado Police Department." "What?" The old man was motioning with his ear. I repeated it again. "Oh, why didn't you say so? Next time flash a badge or somethin' okay?" The case has barely begun and I'm already getting a headache. "What do you remember about the woman in room five?" The old man moved behind his desk and sat down. "She was blonde and had a big rack." He's half blind but he certainly remembers that, of course. "Did she write down a name in a guestbook or something that I can look at?" "I ain't got a book, I respect their privacy." Well, I can certainly see why the killer came here. "Okay sir, was she with anybody at the time?" "Nope, all by her lonesome." So the killer came later. "Did anyone check in after her?" "Nope, the last of the evening. She checked in rather late." Late? "How late do you figure?" The old man shifted on the tall wooden stool, "oh, I'd say about 11:30 or so." So now I have a time and a general description, very general. "Thank you for your time sir." I shook his hand and headed for the door, but then I remembered that there was no guest book. "Oh, and I'm going to get a court order to make you start using a guestbook so this doesn't happen again." I headed out to my car, the sound of "******** you, copper" over the door's bell sounding as it closed. He definitely heard me that time.
Chapter 2
I interviewed the people in the adjacent rooms to the crime scene, they heard absolutely nothing. Of course, most of them I could tell quickly were either high, drunk, or getting there, so I wouldn't take their word for it just yet.
I figured that this girl had to have relatives somewhere, so I poured over every case file I could concerning missing persons, hoping that at least one matched the time frame of the incident and the vague description from the hotel owner. One finally caught my eye, a "Harold Mitchel" filed a missing persons report one month ago for his sister. Her name was listed as a "Jennifer Mitchel" in the file, so I ran background check in the hopes of getting a few more details. This woman isn't even from here, she came out of California. Why a city girl of California would ever come to a hell hole like this, I'll never figure out.
I hopped a flight out to San Francisco, tracking down the brother's address to a white house on a downhill slope. I prayed my car wouldn't roll downhill when I got out, so I parallel parked it between two cars to create a buffer in case it did. I'm an a**, I know. I knocked on the bright red door, it was no time at all for the man to open it. "Yes, can I help you with something?" I flashed my badge and asked to come inside, he didn't have a problem with it and gladly invited me in. Usually people will respond with shouts of a warrant and slam the door in my face, I guess Californians are just a little different. "I came about your sister," I said. "Jenn, you found her?" He seemed hopeful. "Possibly, but first I'd like you to answer a few questions." He agreed and we sat down in his living room. It was a big room, but lacking a lot of furniture outside of a couch, chair and t.v. in the corner. "Now, why would you file a missing persons report in Colorado if you live here?" "Because it was her favorite place to go for the summer, she loved the Rockies. I figured if she went anywhere, it was there." The guy moved in a girlie way, I noticed the track-lighting and became a little uncomfortable. I've never even seen a gay guy except for on t.v. back home. "Is there anyone that might have wanted to hurt your sister?" He stared blankly for a moment, "no one that I ever saw, everyone loved her." He looked at me for a moment with a confused look, "wait a minute, why did you ask me that? And why did you say that you 'might' have found her? What's going on?" Dammit, I was hoping to avoid this. "If the individual we found was indeed your sister, then I regret to inform you that she has been murdered." He began to weep openly. "I only said 'if' it was here, we still aren't shure yet." My attempts to make him feel better kind of fell on def ears, he heard it, but didn't really stop crying. I told him I had to go, so I let myself out. I notified him at the door that a CSI team would come in, they wanted some hair from a brush of hers to test with the hair at the crime scene.
I wanted to continue with the investigation as far as I could, but it wasn't up to me anymore, it was the crime lab's problem now. So I went back to the usual, petty theft and various drug charges to fill out the rest of my week. I wasn't good with taking things easy, if I wanted things easy, I'd have a desk job somewhere.
Chapter 3
I had just adjusted to slowing down when another one came acrossed my desk. Apparently during the night, a tourist went off the road on a rural highway. He was then drug out of the car by something and was torn to shreds farther up the hill from the road. I went out there and saw the trail of guts and blood. The man was clearly ripped open and eaten most of the way, bite mark were clearly visible on various parts of the body. The victim's intestines were uncoiled, spanning the length of the car to the body like some sort of arrow pointing to the corpse. It seemed like someone wanted us to find the body. Now we know that whoever had killed the girl owned dogs, it was up to the lab to find out what kind of dogs they were. The creepy part was how close the murders were from each other, I actually looked up from the crime scene and saw the hotel off in the distance.
There was only one whitness, it was the person who found the car, she refused to go up the hill to the corpse. She was merely driving by when she saw the car. She got out and saw the open car door and blood everywhere at the scene, that explains the vomit on the road. We asked her if she heard anything unusual, but the answer was the same as the whitnesses at the hotel, she heard nothing.
Speaking of creepy, a week later I got the report back on the bite marks, it turns out that they couldn't identify the marks. The bites didn't resemble the jaw structure of any beast domesticated or wild in the state of Colorado. A note at the bottom of the page in pen was a simple sentence: "Too many teeth!" I saw the pictures and understood what he meant, there were too many teeth on the upper jaw and the teeth were too close together. Perhaps it was foreign animals, if that was the case, then I need to find people in the state that have a license to raise exotic animals.
There were only a handful of people containing an exotic animal handling license. One guy owned monkeys, another raised endangered tigers. The last one on the list raised California Condors, and they don't have teeth last time I checked. All in all, none of them had the jaws of whatever it was that ate the man, so my trail went cold real quick. I began to ask myself if the bite marks were meant to throw off the investigators, jaws created to confuse everyone and make a clean getaway.
Over the next few days, I checked every sculpture artist in the state dealing with everything from clay and wax to wood and metal. It turned up absolutely nothing. Most of them were either physically incapable of committing the act, or could provide proof as to where they were on the night of both murders. I was completely out of leads and it was pissing me off.
Chapter 4
This does it! Now I know whoever did this is laughing at me! I can't go three days anymore without going out to that damn stretch of road and seeing another mutilated corpse.
I arrived in the mid afternoon. It happened in a backyard of one of the houses that actually sat out this far in the desert. There are only a few houses out here, stretched one every ten miles or so. Once again, before I walked inside the home, I looked out across the flat land and saw the damned motel again in the distance. The victim this time was a child, only ten years of age and playing quietly in the backyard until his mother heard a scream. She described the incident to me in such a way that I first thought she was nuts, until I saw the backyard.
The backyard was of average size, the only sign of a disturbance being a small hole in the tall fence. This wooden fence was taller than me, but I didn't have to see over it to understand what happened.
The boy was apparently playing in the sandbox when something distracted him over to the corner of the yard. It was then that someone, or something, grabbed him and pulled him through the small hole. Whatever it was, it yanked him so hard that his leg was severed. The killer then preceded to pull the boy through, this time removing his arm. I'm guessing by this point the child was dead due to blood loss and seering pain. This went on until the child's whole body was pulled through, leaving a heaped mess on the other side. The mother saw the last moments, describing a leathery hand pulling her child's head through the hole.
Upon inspection of the other side of the fence, it was determined that this could not have been done by an animal of any kind. If it was, the child's body would have been either eaten or carried off and eaten somewhere else. This means it had to be either a human or the devil himself. Whoever it was, they had to have considerable strength and quick reflexes to pull the child apart and get his whole body through before the mother could comprehend what was happening.
Then there is the testimony of the leathery hand. The police sketch artist got her to describe it as he drew it out. In the end, it looked like a human hand, but with claws and reddish skin. I wanted to dismiss this as either the killer wearing halloween gloves or someone with a disfigured hand, but the woman insists it looked like the hand of a demon. This was all I had to go on, so for the sake of evidence, I kept it.
The mother was calmed down an hour later, but when she saw me she just burst into tears and hysterical wimpering. "Please, please do something! You can't let this keep happening to us!" "We're doing all we can at the moment, so you must bear with us," one of the officers said. It didn't help much, she just sat down on the couch and cried harder. She was a single mother from the looks of it, so after we leave, there will be no one to console her. I ordered two officers to stay at the residence in case the killer returns, but also in case the mother contemplated suicide after we left.
I didn't tell anyone, but I wanted to conduct an experiment of my own. I told only four of the most experienced officers we had, inviting them to come along on my hunt. They agreed. My plan was to stake out the entire area all night in the hopes of catching our killer. If this fails tonight, then I'll try every damned night until I get some results!
Chapter 5
It's been three hours and all I have to show for it is a flattened patch of tall grass where my a** has been. I've got four veterans with me, All of them spread out across the open field. One is Officer Morris, he's a twenty-year vet from our county department. He's a classic officer with the mustasche and the non-regulation magnum on his hip, so I stationed him in the tall grass near the road where the second guy was found. The second guy is Officer Brooks from our city police force. This guy has been more than willing to shoot anything he sees since this investigation began, so I put him near an old fence facing the motel, binoculars in one hand and his shotgun in the other. The third guy is Officer Rourke, he's also a city cop. He wasn't going to hide very well, considering his size, so I had him circle the area every half hour with the lights off and calling in every time he reached the 51st mile marker. The last guy is Officer Farmer, he's a county officer who always carried an extra clip with him; you would too if you worked the homicide division. I put him facing the mountains, with me in the center of the circle.
Four hours now, still nothing. Can this b*****d see us? I don't know, but in another few hours I'm calling it quits. My radio screams to life with the booming voice of Morris, "It's Rourke! His car lost control and went into the ditch! I think something jumped onto the hood, I'm going to check it out." I quickly picked up my radio and pushed the wide yellow button on the left side, "Approach with caution Morris, don't hesitate to us that cannon of yours if you have to." I wait, then I hear gunshots from the road. I quickly call in to the rest of the unit to stay put while I check it out, the headed quickly for the road.
I stopped at the top of the hill, gunshots still going off below me. Where the hell are these things coming from?! The ugliest monster of a dog jumped out from behind the car, Morris blowing it's head off. Then another jumped out, and he shot its head off. Then another, then another, then another until they had surrounded him, growling in unison. I pulled out my gun and headed down the hill, but it was too late. The dogs jumped, Morris got two of them, but he didn't escape the circling wall of teeth and metal. I ran back up the hill, praying the whole way up that they didn't finish eating him until I got away.
Farmer voice roared into my radio next, "I see movement, holy s**t this guy is huge!" The radio cut out. I ran his way, past my a**-print in the grass and into the darkness ahead. I reached him too late, his head was gone and bleeding everywhere. Whoever this guy is, he has a sharp weapon with him and has to be fast. I had to reach Brooks before something happened to him.
Damn it's dark! I was running towards Brooks, but Brooks was also running towards me! We ran into each other, nearly shooting each other in the process. "I heard gunshots from the road, then Farmer came over the radio, so I figured you were handling the other and I went to help him." I stared at him, he was gazing at me with the hope that they were still alive, but I only shook my head and shrugged off the angered gaze he was now showing.
We decided to get the hell out, Brooks adding that he'll kill anything that moves along the way. So we headed for the car in the hopes that it wasn't totalled. I put an arm out and stopped, ahead of us were eyes. Glowing eyes were circling ahead of us, trying to split up and surround us. "Go, I'm going to show them why you don't piss with a Brooks," he said. I knew I couldn't change his mind, so I sunk low in the grass and moved slowly, my gun at the ready. I heard the horrid barking of those things and the sounds of their feet coming closer. I sank low and prayed they didn't see me. I nearly freaked out when I saw one of them jump right over me, hairless and drooling with teeth protruding out of every part of its mouth. I took the opportunity and ran like hell for the car.
I reached the bottom of the hill and ran for the car. It was covered in blood and guts on its right side, so I looked around for Morris's belt and his magnum. I found them under the car, I think they expected me to run it over when I made an escape. If that's the case, then they let me live to get me alone. Then that means.........I backed away from the car, keeping an eye on the back seat as I moved away. I saw eyes, was one of the dogs back there? It stared at me for a long time and I began to think that it wasn't one of the dogs. I'm starting to think that that dead kid's mother was right, the killer isn't human.
The door opened slowly, the click of the handle at first, followed by the squeek of the door moving outward. I couldn't make this guy out, one minute he looked like he had blonde hair, then black hair, then red hair. His hairstyle and clothing seemed to constantly shift color and type, from suit to t-shirt and jeans, shifting constantly to the point where my eyes hurt. He was very tall, this didn't change. As the moon moved behind the clouds, his form stopped shifting. I can't tell what he looks like now, but I see horns. Horns that came from the side of the head and curved around to the front, eyes glowing a dim green around the iris. I fired off every round from the magnum, the every round from my gun, he just stood there and took it. He walked towards me, I wanted to run, but I felt like my shoes were full of cement. I tried to keep my wits about me, so when the freak got close enough, I punched him in the gut as hard as I could. Damn that hurt. I look down and saw that I was bleeding badly across my knuckles, I think he was wearing armor with spikes across the gut. That means that he was probably wearing a helmet with the horns, or maybe horror movie makeup, why was he letting me stand here and think about it? I looked up and stared into those horrid eyes. All it said to me was three simple words: "Good work, detective." Everything goes white.
 Kagemusha the demon · Fri Jan 30, 2009 @ 12:32am · 0 Comments |
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