Colt Henderson

Joined June 2021

84 stories

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I usually write horror.

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Blight
Carter might be in a dream. As he hit the top of the hill that towered over his hometown, he noticed a wall surrounding the small city. His only assumption was that there must have been a blight attack. This caused his steps to quicken and his mind to race. His mother and little sister were still in town. He had been drafted at the age of 18 to fight the mutated creatures that formed from the unique makeup of the meteorites that crashed all over the earth. The numerous rocks gave off a blue light that was eventually identified as a new radioactive element. That had all happened a little over 5 years ago, and now Carter was finally getting home. His platoon had been decimated by the Blighted that they were sent to fight. He was the only one left with barely a scratch on him. Over the years, the government's of the world had run a plethora of tests on captured and killed Blighted. These experiments found that the Blighted had the ability to create illusions and that they were connected to each other through some sort of hive mind. The strength of the illusions and hive mind depended on their amount of mutation. The higher the mutation, the higher their control. The area Carter was sent to was controlled by a rather strong Blighted. It was able to create almost perfect replications of buildings and people. After the final push resulted in catastrophic losses, the brass decided to just bomb the area. Carter, being the lone survivor, was then asked if he wanted to re-enlist or go home. He decided he was done with dealing with the mutated people and chose to go home. He was now close enough to the wall to see two people dressed somewhat similarly in different colored fatigues. One wore a baseball cap, and the other had on sunglasses. They were both white with brown hair, while the one on the right was at least a head shorter than the one on the left. Before he got too close, one of the men yelled out, "Stop there. We will come to you." "Yes, sir." Carter answered back as he came to a stop. Carter realized that the two men were armed as they slowly approached. Assault rifles were loosely hanging from their necks, slightly bumping around with each step. Once the men got within 50 yards, Carter thought he saw a pale blue light coming from the shorter man. It was just for a second, but was it actually there? He was exhausted from his journey on foot and just decided it was a fluke. Trick of the light plus his tired brain. He looked at his military watch that was also a personal radiation detector; no ping meant he was free of radiation. "How's it going, fellas?" "Who are you?" The taller one asked. "What's your business here?" The shorter one added. "I live here. When did …" "If you lived here, you wouldn't be outside." The shorter man interjected as he put his hands on his weapon. "Gentlemen, there is …" "Why are you here?" The taller one interrupted this time. "Gentlemen, I used to live here with my mother and sister, but I was drafted," Carter replied, "I have been fighting the blight in the south for 5 years and 7 months." "So you were killing those blight monsters?" The short one looked kind of impressed as his hands on his weapon lightened. "Unfortunately." "What's that mean!" The taller one prodded. "The blight were once humans. I took no pleasure in killing them." Carter said in almost a whisper. "Wow, that's … stupid." The tall one said, ending with a laugh and getting a high five from the short one. "You're not the first to say that, and I understand." "Well, since you were out there handling those damn blighted, I am sure we can accommodate you," The taller one said as he extended his hand towards Carter, "Name's Simpson, Simpsonville." "Jason Pollock." The short one said as he, too, lifted his hand. "Carter Davis, gentlemen." Carter said as he shook their hands. They started chatting about the hotspots as they started walking towards the wall. Carter did his best to answer their questions, but he was just a grunt. He didn't know where the main force was. He only knew where he was told to go. He had heard rumors of almost everything going on, but they were just that most of the time, rumors. When they finally reached the wall, the conversation turned towards what happened for there to be a wall surrounding the small city. One day, a creeping group, the Blighted, of maybe 6, slipped in at night, unnoticed. By dawn, there were over 20 of them. After the cleansing, which claimed 32 people, the remaining citizens had a town hall meeting and devised the wall. Everyone willingly pitched in to build it. Unfortunately, his mother and sister were among the cleansed. Carter broke down over this, and the guards just watched him cry, unable to think of how to comfort him. After he pulled himself together, Jason punched in a code on a panel next to a solid metal door. When the door slid open, there was a hallway that led to another door. The metallic corridor was around 15 feet long, and Carter was ushered in after Jason took the lead. With Jason in front and Peter behind him, he felt out of place. He looked at his watch again, but still no radiation. "Got a hot day, soldier?" Peter asked from behind him. "No, just seeing how long it took me to get here," Carter replied, "Four and a half hours. I think that's pretty good." "Yeah, that's way better than I could have done." Jason added. "That's cuz you have short legs!" Peter ended with a cackle. It didn't take long to reach the door, where Jason put in another code on another panel and the door slid open. On the other side was the morning sun a quarter way in the sky, shining down on maybe 2 dozen buildings in all. Jason stepped outside and motioned for Carter to follow. Once outside, he turned back to the guards, hopeful of directions. "OK, what you need to do is get permission to stay in one of the apartments." Peter started to explain. "The only way to do that is by visiting the mayor's office. Since you lived here, I take it you know where the main government building is, on the square?" "Yes." "Great, just go there and let them know why you are there." Peter finished and started to walk inside. "We will radio ahead for you, soldier." Jason said before both of them disappeared behind the closing shiny metal door. ***** The journey was a short 30-minute walk to the square. He was really feeling fatigued as he stepped into the cool air conditioning. The day wasn't that hot, but Carter figured he was tired from the sun beating down on him since he started walking. His steps were slow, but sure. He walked to the end of the white tiled floor, beige colored walls with a white ceiling tiles corridor, and looked left to right. On his right, he found a woman sitting at a rather large wooden desk with a name placard that read 'Doris'. Their eyes met, they smiled, and Carter spoke first. "Hello ma'am, I am Carter Davis. I was told to come here to see about an apartment." "Yes, sir, this is the place. We were informed of your presence. Have a seat, and the mayor will be with you at his earliest convenience." That did not sound promising to Carter, but he found a seat behind him and sat down. He looked around at the few paintings and little trinkets, but nothing filled his curiosity. "What happened here? This is completely different from what I remember." "Weren't you out there fighting those things? You should know better than us what is happening." Doris responded. "We were told our families were safe from the blight." "Well, after we were attacked and built the wall, the drought hit, which led to a food shortage. We had a few deaths over those two years. It was heartbreaking for us as a community." Doris said before tearing up and reaching for a tissue. "The famine reached up here?" Carter was furious, "They told us that the famine was happening in other parts of the world, not here in America." "Boy, don't you know you can't believe everything they tell you. They are the government." Doris now blew her nose. Carter wanted to mention that she was also the 'government' but decided to just say, "That's true." "The guards mentioned your family lived near the old bridge when the incident occurred," Doris mentioned with sympathy on every word, "My cousin and his family lived over there, too. My condolences for your loss." "I am sorry for your loss, too." Carter's voice was filled with despair. Doris started to say something, but she stopped when the sound of a door opening drowned out her first syllable. The solid wooden door opened to show a middle-aged man in a black three piece suit with a white shirt and blue tie. He looked professional and familiar to Carter. It took him a few seconds to remember the face. "Mr. Alastor?" "That's me … Carter Davis? I thought that name sounded familiar. You're Lydia's boy," The late 30's man spoke with an even tone as he briskly walked the few yards between them, "It's a damn shame what happened to your mother, and … your, broth. No, sister, right?" "Yes, sir, and thank you." "That … that invasion was devastating. It claimed way too many people, roughly 6 percent of the citizens." Mr. Alastor said with empathy, oozing out of his words, "Since I became mayor after the unfortunate incident, I have sought to make sure the monsters out there don't ever get back in here." "The wall seems to be working, Mr. Alastor." "I don't mean the wall, boy, and it isn't 100% effective!" The man exclaimed as he leaned over the sitting Carter and then whispered all but the last sentence, "I am working on something that repels those things out there. And you can call me Griffin." "OK, Griffin." "Let's step into my office." Griffin said as he motioned for Carter to take the lead, "And get you set up." Carter stood up, standing a few inches taller than the older man, and walked through the open door. He then sat down in the chair in front of a large wooden desk, and Griffin sat in the one behind it. Griffin pulled a drawer out and started rummaging through some papers in it. He eventually found what he was looking for and placed it in front of him. He started reading, mumbling the words to himself, and flipping a few pages before he found the right thing. "OK, Carter, we have several apartments available. Do you remember where the South End Apartments are located?" Griffin asked with a smile. "The South End Apartments?" "Oh, don't worry. It isn't like it used to be," the man assured him, "Since the wall got finished, the crime rate has fallen across the board. We still have a couple of thieves, but we are looking for them." "OK," Carter bobbed his head in agreement, "I remember, over behind the church." "Correct." The mayor stated, "Let me get you a set of keys." "Does everything come through here now?" Carter asked. "Yeah, we kind of turned into a dictatorship after the incident. I stood up," Griffin sighed, "I decided I would take the initiative and lead this community after the previous mayor fled. He just disappeared." "That's crazy." "You're telling me! My teaching career helped me, kind of, for this. Instead of being in charge of students, I am in charge of over 300 men, women and children," The man behind the desk said as he ran a hand through his hair, "To say I am stressed is an understatement. Teaching chemistry was a breeze compared to this." "Besides the incident and the previous mayor leaving, why did it become a dictatorship?" "I just say that because everything goes through this office, and I mean everything," Griffin became serious, "But I don't hold anyone hostage. We all agreed that if you do your job, you can live here, and everyone fifteen or older works at least four days a week." "You have a four day work week?" "Actually, we need to talk about your career," the mayor said as he opened another drawer and looked for a certain piece of paper, "Here, these are the open positions." Carter grabbed the paper and carefully examined it before saying, "I don't have a problem with police or wall security. It's close to what I was already doing." "Oh, were you an MP?" "No." Griffin busted out into a deep laugh before collecting himself and saying, "That's funny. Um, how about you check them both out? Pay is the same starting out." "That sounds good." " Just show up at one of those addresses on Monday morning. I will call them after you leave, Carter." The near silver haired man said as he fished out a pair of keys and threw them at Carter, "The number of the apartment is on the key, and I will have everything turned on." "Monday? That's six days from now." "No offense, but you look like hell," Griffin replied, "I figured give you time to rest up and settle in before you get back to work." "Okay, should I go ahead and pay first and last month's rent?" "What … oh, no. Don't worry about it, Carter," the mayor smiled, "We will worry about that stuff when you decide which job you want." "Are you sure?" "Positive! Now, go home and get some needed sleep, soldier." The older man stood and stuck his hand out for a shake, which Carter took in kind. "It's got to be the sun beating down on me." "That good ole sun. The good radiation," The salt and pepper, mostly salt at this point, haired man used air quotations on the last two words with a smirk, "Come back and see me anytime, maybe give you a quiz for old times sake." With that, they let go of each other's hand, Carter laughed and then made his way out of the office. He said his goodbyes to Doris and walked outside. The walk to the apartments took him around thirty minutes, and as promised, everything was turned on. It was also fully furnished, but no food or drinks. That didn't matter. He got himself some tap water in a provided cup and gulped down several glasses. He had a splitting headache and figured he was just dehydrated. After chugging water straight from the tap and putting his head under the faucet to cool off, he found the bed and lay down. He was still wet, but he drifted off quickly enough that it didn't matter. ***** Carter opened his eyes and looked around the room. Everything had an odd blue glow for a second as his eyes adjusted to the dark he was now laying in. The bed sat in the middle of the opposite wall with nightstands on either side, an assumed closet door to the right of the bed, an antique dresser in one corner, topped with a flat screen television, and a cheap desk and chair in the other corner. The walls were white, the ceiling was white, and the carpet was brown. There's not much to look at. He sat up and walked to the dresser to see if there were clothes; nope. He then proceeded into the bathroom through the assumed closet and found the actual closet in the back. He took off his clothes, urinated in the toilet, and then jumped in the shower. There were no soaps of any kind anywhere Carter could see, so he chose to just stand under the shower nozzle and let the warm water pour over his body. He wasn't feeling very good, and decided he needed to find something to eat. He opened his front door to near pitch black. The only light provided were old yellow lit lights that lined the paved trail to the center of town. As he walked down the half dozen steps to the ground, he heard a familiar ping, but when he looked at his watch, there was no noise or light that indicated the presence of radiation. Carter shrugged, thinking it could have just been a loud ringing in his ear, and continued down the path. He was almost there, he could see the two buildings the trail passed between, when the wind turned cool, which caused goosebumps to spread out over his skin, and then the smell of something dead filled his nostrils. It was only a second, but it caused his feet to stop moving. He looked around and found something strange. It was a public garden that he didn't remember. The sign said, in black on brown stained wood, 'Community Garden'. He could now see vines bearing beautiful blue flowers he had never seen before that covered the walls of the open structure. Inside, there were even stranger trees with light blue fruit hanging off the thick spiky branches with dark purple leaves. Carter stepped closer and examined one of the blue orange-like fruits. He was able to easily pull it off the branch, and he put it to his nose. It smelled like vanilla. When he tried to peel it, it turned out to be more like a mango. Still starving, he plunged his teeth into the blue peel of the new fruit and started chewing. The insides were a darker blue than the skin, and it not only smelled like vanilla, but it tasted like it, too. As he continued to eat, he walked back to the trail. He resumed his leisurely walk towards the buildings and was finished with the treat before reaching the street. He deposited the blue skin and oddly shaped seed into a trash can he found on the sidewalk. He vaguely remembered a diner being somewhere on one of the four streets that made the four intersections of the square of the town. Carter only had to walk through one intersection to find the diner, which was open. It still had the same signage in the windows that he remembered, which advertised a turkey dinner platter with a slice of pumpkin pie for $14.99 in one window, and their new ribeye steak dinner for $18.99 in the other. The door that led into the diner was frosted with fake snow and had a sign of the store's hours. Carter disregarded the hours, as the place was clearly open, and walked into the building. There were a few customers in booths, but none looked up at him, so he decided to sit at the bar. "I will be right with you, sir!" The words came from a short fella behind the counter, cooking something on the grill. It wasn't long before the man behind the counter finished cooking whatever it was and took it to one of the booths of people. He then hurried back around the counter, grabbed a menu, utensils, and pen and paper. "What kind of drink can I start you with, so you can look over the menu?" The short man asked. "A water would be fine." Carter said before asking, "And what are those blue fruits in the community garden? They tasted good, but I am feeling really sick now." "Are you talking about the light blue fruit that smells like vanilla?" Someone from behind him interjected. "Yeah, what are they?" "Well, for one, they aren't ripe until they are dark blue and have no smell," An older man came and sat next to him, "As for what they are? We haven't decided on a name for them yet. They are a mix of blue marble fruit, blueberries, and oranges, so we have two options; Blue Marble Oranges or Blue Vanilla Berries." "Well, I prefer the second, Blue Vanilla Berries. What do they taste like when they are ripe?" "Vanilla." The guy said as he got up to turn back to his group, "Got another for Blue Vanilla Berries." Carter turned back forward and suddenly felt like the fruit was coming back up. He quickly asked, "Bathroom?", but he couldn't stop what happened next. He managed to turn his head away from the counter just before his mouth opened, and he violently threw up stomach acid and pieces of the fruit. He spasmed four times to expel the remaining Blue Vanilla Berries, and he felt his stomach feeling better, but now his body hurt. His face felt hot, and there was a nasty taste in his mouth. "I am, so very sorry." "It's," the man sighed before finishing, "It's okay, I needed to mop anyways." The employee disappeared into the back for a few minutes and returned with a mop and yellow bucket. As he mopped up the blue tinted vomit, he asked Carter, "Have you decided on something?" Carter decided on something light, thinking he was still dehydrated from the walk that morning. It went down easy and stayed down. He paid for his meal and tipped generously before heading back towards his apartment. The breeze was back to being warm for some reason. The delightful scents that once flowed on the air had changed to something horrible. As Carter reached the community garden again, he was struck with the awful and familiar odor of decomposing bodies. He had dealt with his fair share while fighting the Blight. He looked around in the pitch black, but as quick as it came, it was gone in the next instant. After finding nothing and no longer smelling the bodies, he chalked it up to rotting fruits mixed with something else unfamiliar and continued his walk home. ***** Carter woke up exhausted. He was sure it was from throwing up the previous night and went about his morning routine. He brushed his teeth, peed, and then turned on the shower. He stepped in and lowered his head under the shower head. He ran his hands through his short hair and felt something strange. He pulled his head out of the water and stared at his hair covered hands. "What the …" He ran his hands under the flowing water to rinse the hair off and then checked his hair again. There was less of it this time, but there was still hair in his hands. He just stood there, staring at his hair covered hands. A few minutes passed before he started moving again. He finished his shower and got dressed. He was standing in front of the mirror now when he started counting on his fingers, "Nausea, vomiting, headache, and hair loss. I have radiation poisoning!" Carter started screaming obscenities for a few minutes but got really dizzy and leaned up against the bathroom counter. "Now I am getting dizzy. I have to talk to Griffin." Carter slowly made his way out of his apartment and back towards the middle of town. He passed by the community garden again, and the sweet smell of vanilla wafted on the warm morning breeze. Carter paused and took in a deep breath, which was a mistake. He suddenly felt his stomach churn and braced for the release. His back cramped up, his hands were on his knees as he bent over, and his mouth was wide open. At first, he was only dry heaving, but the third attempt was full of blood. He heaved a few more blood filled times and almost collapsed. He caught his breath and then stood up straight, causing him to become dizzy again. After securing himself to a nearby tree with his arms wrapped around it, he waited for the vertigo to pass. A few minutes hugging a tree later, he continued his now even slower pace towards the government building. He passed a few people and offered a smile and wave despite feeling terrible. His hope was that Griffin could help. The few steps into the building were left to ascend, and Carter had to muster up all his strength to climb them. He was getting weaker as the minutes slowly crept by and with each new step down the hallway. Doris greeted him with a smile before she hit the intercom button to say he was there. "Did I forget an appointment, Doris?" Griffin's even tone smoothly rose from the speaker. "No, sir, he is a walk-in." Doris pressed the button again. "Well, send him in here," Griffin's grin could be heard on every syllable, "I am completely free right now." Carter walked to the heavy wooden door, which opened with ease, and stepped into the office of the mayor. Griffin stood up and extended his hand for a shake, but Carter was having trouble walking as a wave of sickness hit him. "You're not looking very good, Carter," Griffin said after the awkward silence from waiting for Carter to reach his hand, "Have you been to the hospital?" "No … I am pretty positive about the diagnosis." Carter finally responded as he took a seat in the chair in front of the desk. "And what is that?" "Radiation poisoning." "Wow, that is serious," Griffin said with genuine worry on his face, "We need to call an ambulance." "No, they can't do anything." "It's not about doing anything," Griffin's tone lowered, "You are probably in a lot of pain. Let's call an ambulance." Griffin reached for the phone. "I am in a lot of pain, but don't call." Carter pleaded. "And why would I do that?" "Because I am too far gone." Carter tried to explain. Griffin picked up the phone and dialed anyway. The conversation was quick, and then he said to Carter, "The ambulance is on its way. And you don't have to worry about anything. Just get better. I was looking forward to seeing you gradually getting sick and then dying as a weak and frail human." "Wait, what?" "Yes, you heard me correctly, Carter. You see, I have been manipulating you since you reached the top of that hill, yesterday," the man sitting in front of Carter frowned before continuing, "I was hoping you would last longer, but you seem to be weaker than the females of your family. I believe they are still being bled in the garden. You see, my invention, which you stupidly ate without knowing what it was, requires blood without the blue crystals to feed the plant. It no longer needs water to survive, but it needs continuous access to the blood. It is a grotesque way to live, actually." "Why me and my family?" "Oh, you are not special. You, because you happen to be the last person that needed to come … home, if you will," the mayor's frown turned upside down as he talked, "And your family, because they wouldn't turn voluntarily." "Then why were you so nice to me?" "I am still the mayor." Griffin replied in turn. "So this whole thing is just a coincidence?" "Yeah, basically," Griffin laughed a little during the natural pause, "But I was hoping to use you for my next plant. That is, of course, ruined, but I have some of my brood out looking for new recruits." "What's the point of the plants?" "World domination." "You can't be serious!" "As a heart attack," Griffin smiled again and said, "Or should that be radiation poisoning?" "Funny, very funny," Carter replied, "How are plants going to do that for you?" "Why should I tell you anything?" Griffin sat back in his chair with a devilish grin. "I am going to be dead soon," Carter felt like this would be the last conversation he would ever have, "And it's not like I will get out of here alive." "Fair point," Griffin sighed, "I guess I could monolog for you." Griffin cleared his throat and began again, "It all started on a cool March evening when these crystal like meteors crashed into the earth. I, or actually the real Griffin Alastor, was struck by one while tending his garden. He, unfortunately, died, and then the pure blue crystallized meteor did its magic and made me. I am a mixture of the living blue element and a complex creature. I then made a discovery by accident, and that discovery was that blood that had not come into contact with the crystal could actually feed plants infected with the blight." "This stuff doesn't react to plants!" "You are wrong, Carter," the mayor said slyly, "But I can see why you think that. Your government doesn't know nearly as much as they think about my kind. I don't know why it only interacts with plants through human blood, though. This human taught chemistry, not biology." "Why didn't I change? I ate the fruit!" "Yeah, and then immediately threw it up. After I heard you ate it, but didn't change, that is the only thing I could think of. It doesn't make sense," Griffin scratched his chin, "You should have changed." "How do you know I am not infected?" "Because you are dying!" The man behind the desk yelled, "If you were infected, the crystals in your body would absorb the radiation and make it a part of you." " … " "Sorry, it … it irritates me, quite a bit," the mayor's even tone returned, "On with the story. I knew I was on the outskirts of town, so I walked the rest of Mr. Alastor's property to his neighbor. They were nice and let me in, which didn't work out well for them. I used them to produce the first fruits. And those were pale imitations of what they are now, but they still worked. I sold a few to a couple with kids out on the road, and after two days, they all returned, mutated." "You're a monster!" "Of course I am," Griffin stood up and leaned over with his fists on the desk, "I am the one in control of this whole town. Every single person of the 531 is controlled by me in some capacity. I have had my eyes on you this whole time, boy." "If this was a few days ago, I would kill you!" Carter yelled as he tried to get out of the chair but failed. The older man started laughing slightly and then said, "You have no idea what is real, Carter. I have had your mind since your eyes fell on my wall, but I have no problem breaking the illusion." Carter sat, horrified as the illusion started to fall as he looked around. The building was in disrepair, with a hole where the ceiling should be. The walls were covered with filth of an unknown origin, and the floor was stained with blood. The illusion slowly crept around Griffin and revealed the open wall behind him. Griffin then stood tall and said, "Now, you will see me in all of my glory!" The first things that changed were the floors and walls, again. They were now covered in various sized vines, all producing different sized blue flowers. The ceiling was even covered in vines, almost forming a new ceiling and almost cutting out the sunlight. The wall that had a hole in it was the escape the vines needed, and Carter could see them stretching all the way to the nearest build. He imagined they went further and that they were what actually made up the tall wall that surrounded the town. The last thing to start to appear was the actual body of the mayor. The base of the man became four times as wide as the legs had been. This continued to hold true as the fine suit disappeared to show a twisted body made up of vines, large dark blue crystals, and the mangled body of Griffin Alastor. The body started where the left nipple would have been and stretched and turned at an odd angle, which left the head on top of the massive stack of vines and crystal. The face was also turned in a grotesque manner, which made Carter sick when the eyes opened, glassed over, and the twisted mouth smiled. The true reveal of the monstrous creature of torment was the last thing Carter saw, as he lost his fight for life. "You see me in all my …, Carter. Carter!" The hodgepodge screamed the last word before hitting the intercom, which still worked, and said to Doris, "Send someone to take this body and dispose of it at the garden." "You want him bled, sir?" "Yes, he is dead."
By Colt Hendersonabout a year ago in Horror
Edible Mushrooms
Andrei played with his worn out army men as his mother, Julie, cooked their supper. Lost in his adventure Andrei didn’t hear his mother calling him until she said his full name.
By Colt Hendersonabout a year ago in Horror
Devouring Heights. Content Warning.
The sun was beating down on the two adventurers climbing sideways on a towering cliff face over a rushing river. Emanuel, the more experienced rock climber, was a few meters ahead of his girlfriend, Jada. After looking back and watching her for a few hand holds, he turned forward and brushed his right hand over the pocket on his hip. He sighed in relief as he confirmed the expensive little box was still there. His plan had been in the works for a few months now. Once reaching the top of the hardest cliff in the area he was going to propose. It was 18 months of constant adventuring, and he had fallen in love. Jada felt the same, but thought they were there just to conquer the behemoth together. Emanuel reached for the next handhold and started climbing. He gained an even further lead on Jada, but he made sure to take breaks and watch her catch up. The next point of contact was cooler than all the previous. He looked up, but only sunshine covered rock could be seen. Once he was able to pull himself up, even with his hands, he saw a black nothingness. There was a small horizontal cavity into which the sunlight only reached a few centimeters. “Hey Jada, you got a flashlight?” Emanuel shouted down to his soon to be fiance. “Why would I have a flashlight?” Jada replied. “I don't know.” “Wait, why do you need a flashlight?” “I found a cave.” “What? A cave? Are you serious?” “Yeah, get up here,” Emanuel said as he placed his anchor in the cliff face and grabbed for the opening. He disappeared into a crack that Jada couldn't see. She swiftly climbed up to where Emanuel was before he disappeared and saw the opening to a cave. She was amazed that her boyfriend could fit as the hole was barely big enough for her, but when Emanuel wanted something, he could find a way. She wiggled her way in and was soon standing in complete darkness. The smell of dirt filling her nostrils. The only light was the few rays that made it through the small crack, but it only illuminated a few feet inside. “Where you at, Manny?” “I am back here,” Emanuel said from within the dark, “I think I found something.” “Well, duh, this little cave is awesome.” “No, babe, I mean this.” Emanuel knocked on what he found, which made a metallic ring. “What is it?” “I don't know. It seems to be a door.” Emanuel knocked on it again, a bit harder, and a piercing screech echoed through the small bubble of a cave as the door opened. A sickly yellow light slowly made its way up to the rock climbing twosome's eyes. They could still barely see, but they could now make out each other's figures. Emanuel jumped in shock when Jada reached out and touched him, but soon they were holding hands and looking at the open door. Emanuel pushed the door open more, and that shrill sound invaded the couple's ears. When the door was wide open, the couple stepped through onto a metal grate. They looked down between the gaps of the grate, assuming the light was coming from below, and saw another landing. In front of them was a dark tunnel, barely lit from the yellow light, that changed from rock to metal. “This is amazing, Manny!” Jada exclaimed as she did her best to examine the transition. “It's almost seamless. I wonder who built this.” “I think we should go back to climbing.” “Don't be a baby, Manny.” Jada said as she playfully pushed him. “No, I am serious.” Emanuel replied, “I got a bad feeling about this.” “Nothing is going to happen. At worst, this is a military base, and we get escorted out.” Jada tried to reassure him. “Where do you live that you don't get in trouble for sneaking onto a military base?” Emanuel stopped in his tracks. “We should leave.” “Let's just explore a little bit. If we see someone we will hightail it back, OK?” Jada pleaded with her big emerald eyes. “Fine. Let me go first.” Emanuel caved immediately. They continued down the narrow path until they came to another heavy metal door. They looked at each other for a second before Jada motioned for him to open the door. With an exasperated sigh, Emanuel tried the brass knob, which turned freely. This one barely made a sound, unlike the first, and swung open easily. There was still a languishing yellow light barely illuminating the new passage, but they still couldn't see where the light was coming from. After walking for more than fifteen minutes, they came to stairs that descended. They quietly agreed to follow the stairs. At the first landing, the couple were awestruck at what they were seeing. It was an underground city and it was huge. There were skyscrapers, a monorail, dozens of smaller buildings, and the couple could see people walking in and around the buildings. They looked at each other, mouths agape, before turning with excitement towards the new city. There were pipes snaking their way all around at different heights, diameters, and colors, making the city quite colorful. The putrid yellow light was being produced by an enormous ball in the middle of the high ceiling, imitating the sun. From their vantage point, Emanuel and Jada could even see trees down on the ground. After taking in the scene of the underground city, Jada wanted to go down there, but Emanuel reminded her of the deal. “We see people, so let's go.” Emanuel said. “You know that's not what I meant.” Jada responded without turning towards him. “We have to go meet them. Aren't you curious?” “Of course, I am curious, but we don't know what kind of people they are. They could kill intruders on sight.” Emanuel said. “Let's just go down a few more flights. I want to see more, please, Manny!” She pleaded again. Without a word, Emanuel turned from facing Jada to the next flight of steps. He walked quickly, but she stayed right behind him. They stopped at the next floor briefly because Jada complained a couple of floors didn't change anything. So they hurried down the steps without keeping track. Before they knew it, they were halfway down the stairs, and Emanuel stopped abruptly, causing Jada to run into him. “Why did you …” Emanuel shushed her as he covered her mouth and knelt down. She followed his posture. Her eyes started to bulge out of their sockets, and sweat began beading down the side of her face. Emanuel let go of her mouth and placed his finger in front of his mouth. Jada took the hint and kept quiet but shrugged her shoulders to inquire why. Instead of speaking in a whisper, Emanuel spread his pointer finger and middle finger, put them in front of his eyes, and then pointed behind him. Instead of there being just a wall and steps, there was now a long corridor that was not empty. Emanuel had seen several people hanging out just inside the open door to the corridor. Thankfully, they hadn't seen them. Jada tried to peer around him to get a look at the people, but Emanuel motioned for them to go back up the stairs. Jada shook her head and leaned over more. Emanuel stared at her, and she moved back to her original position, kneeling in front of her boyfriend. Emanuel silently sighed in relief as his girlfriend finally listened to him. He stood, and she followed. They then started towards the stairs that led up, but Jada, forgetting she still had her harness on, turned quickly next to the railing which made a high ding as the clips meant for rope collided with it. The sound wasn't that loud, but it did grab the attention of the few people just inside the open door behind Emanuel. There was a pause in the conversation between the people just inside , and they turned to look for what made the sound. “Run!” Emanuel said as he lifted her to her feet and started towards the stairs leading up. Jada listened to him and started moving her feet. She hit the second step, Emanuel hit the first, and the residents stepped onto the landing. The fleeing couple had a six foot long lead on the first individual from the hallway and were quickly widening that advantage. That was until Jada stepped up on a nonexistent landing and tripped herself. Emanuel was right behind her and tripped over her splayed body. Within seconds, the underground residents were upon them. “What you running for?” Came a voice on the verge of cracking from a lanky late teen wearing a skullcap, cotton shirt, leather breeches, thick worn boots, and a tattered heavy apron. “Come on, he asked a question.” A second guy popped around him wearing a top hat, goggles on the forehead, multicolored bow tie, and a dark suit with long coattails. “Upsy daisy,” the lanky teen offered to pick up the much larger Emanuel, who took the hand and the railing to pull himself up and then offered his own hand to Jada. “Why y'all running away?” “We, uh, we just want to get back.” Emanuel replied as goosebumps spread over his exposed skin. “Are you two, you know,” the lanky teen whistled while eyeing the pair, “having sex?” he shrugged, “yeah you are,” he smiled wide. “Yeah! That's it,” Emanuel answered. “Either of you want some jerky?” A wide gentleman appeared from behind the first two, carrying a large bag with one fat hand while the second was deep in the bag. He wore a bowler hat, a large handlebar mustache, pudgy cheeks, two chins, glassy blue eyes, an odd green colored suit, one size too small with vertical stripes, and black brogue shoes. “No thank you. We just ate.” Emanuel lied, “It’s not like you to turn down jerky,” Jada teased, reaching into the bag. Emanuel watched her take a bite, his eyes wide. The jerky was an odd color, too pale to be beef, he thought. God only knew what these people ate. “Thanks for your hospitality, but I’m afraid we have to go.” Jada shot him a sour look and took another bite, probably just to spite him. He frowned at her. “What’s your hurry? We don’t get many strangers here. Where are you from?” said the man. As he spoke, the other men edged around them, blocking their escape. Jada swallowed, her eyebrows knitting in sudden worry. Emanuel shot her an “I told you so” look. “We were just leaving.” Emanuel responded as he backed towards the stairs leading up and quickly turned and popped the lanky guy in the face, making room for Jada to run. “That wasn't very nice.” The fat man yelled as the man with the top hat grabbed at Emanuel. With another punch, the top hat fell off the man's head and landed on the metal grate. Emanuel then sidestepped the scrambling man and headed after Jada. Unfortunately, the obese gentleman had a cane, which he used to trip Emanuel as he tried to flee. His foot caught on the plain brown stick, and he fell face first into the stairs. The pain radiated out from his nose, having face planted on a straight edge. The lanky one jumped at Emanuel while the big one grabbed at his feet. Emanuel looked towards Jada as she paused on the next flight. He yelled “Run!” As he stood up and pulled the scrawny man child off his back and threw him onto the steps in front of him. Emanuel turned towards the fat guy and got rocked by a haymaker. And then another. Emanuel backed up but bumped into the third man who wrapped him in his arms. The fat man smiled at Emanuel as he pulled a heavy but thin and short pipe out of his pocket. “Nighty night!” The pipe made a deep thud across Emanuel's head, and he drifted off as he watched Jada disappear up the stairs. At first, I became aware of people murmuring in front of me. Then, the pain in my head surged to the forefront. When I tried to cry out, my mouth was dry and stuffed with something sapping the spit from my tongue. The low noise died down, and the distinct sound of wooden legs being dragged on a wooden floor pierced the heavy silence. I waited in pained anticipation for the gag to be removed, but that never happened. Instead, a sharp slap slammed into my sensitive skin, and I screamed out. My eyes popped open despite them being covered in something, blood I assumed, and my vision, slightly fuzzy, returned. I could vaguely see a large wooden table lined with out of focus people on both sides. I was at the head of an extremely opulent wooden table covered with a thin but sturdy glass, but I couldn't make out the random baubles under the clear top. The one person not sitting down beside me, as I had now concluded that I was strapped at my joints to a cold metal X. The man moved in close before opening my left eye as far as it would go, then moved in even closer eye to eye before letting go and turning back towards everyone still sitting. He started speaking, but it came out muffled. At least it was muffled to me. And I couldn't understand a word. Through the blur, I made out eight people, four on each side of the table, plus the man wearing his odd green suit with the collar popped and very long coat tails next to me. He turned back towards me and raised his hand to strike me again. He punched me square in the left cheek. I screamed back into the gag as the force from the fist echoed through my face all the way to the back of my skull. As the pain tapered down into my neck, a cool breeze brushed down my apparent naked flesh. I screamed again and tried my best to get out of the restraints, but my strength was gone. Even if it wasn't, I was strapped to a metal contraption. I struggled for as long as I could. While the man continued to speak, minutes dragged by, and my vision started to clear a bit more. I noticed the table was filled with pale white men and women. The man speaking was just as pale but was the only one dressed eccentrically with an odd coat and matching pants with white shoes and a cowboy hat. The man pulled out an odd knife and turned back towards me. My eyes started to bulge out of my sockets, as I realized what was about to happen. It took seconds for the mad man to start cutting my flesh. I could soon feel my warm blood trickling down my chest. I couldn't bear to watch so I closed my eyes. But the man didn't like it apparently and slapped me hard across my face. I popped my eyes open again, and my sight was a little better than before, and I watched as the man's mouth moved, but I couldn't make out the word, just his volume. I thought I saw a wide smile on the man's face. But I still couldn't see clearly. I can feel the knife sharper than I thought possible skillfully sliced through my skin. Pain caused my eyes to start perspiring, carrying the warm blood down my face. My vision grew better the more my eyes leaked up, and that was until a bubble formed over my eye. Everything went refracted and blurry, and I tried to calm myself. The man sliced out a strip of skin from my abdomen. He turned around and placed the strip of my skin on the table in front of me. He cut out equal bites and put them on small plates before handing them down the table. I watched as men and women picked up my skin, three with the fork, smelled the chunk, and then put it in their mouths. I threw up, but I was able to swallow it before it could drown me. A few chewed slowly while a couple quickly ate the small bite. I was dumbfounded and couldn't stop watching. The man cutting into me turned back towards me and slowly enjoyed my chunk of flesh. I could only watch in pain and horror as the man picked up the knife again. He then cut another equal piece and placed it on the table. Blood was now rushing down my body and legs, where it flowed down my thighs and dripped to the floor. Only a little bit made it to my feet, where it also dripped to the ground. My screams still smothered by whatever they shoved in my mouth, feels like sandpaper, making my throat hurt. It was last in line on the pain list, but it was bad enough to mention. The man started talking again, which seemed to cause the group to scoot their chairs back, filling the air with that scraping noise again, and stand up. They walked towards me, picked up a similar knife to the man's, and stood in line to take turns removing strips of my flesh. One by one, these people excitedly cut their own chunks out of different parts of my body. Soon, I was bleeding out of at least five different gaping holes in my body. My vitality fell quickly after that. They returned to their seats and ate another piece of me. I was no longer dumbfounded or horrified. Now I am just tired. I could barely keep my eyes open. They closed, and the last thing I heard was more murmuring.
By Colt Hendersonabout a year ago in Horror
The Unknown Forest
The sun was setting and Samantha was lost. She had entered the forest to harvest some edible mushrooms, but she had not marked her way like her mother had told her. Her mother had warned her about being in the woods after dark, and the setting sun started to worry the young girl. A cool breeze floated through the trees and Samantha heard something move behind her. Turning quickly she dropped the basket of mushrooms and backed away from the noise. To her surprise a small rabbit hopped through the foliage.
By Colt Henderson2 years ago in Fiction
Cold Innocence
Footsteps fell precariously in the frozen precipitation as the traveler followed a frequented path. Snow on either side of the adventurer piled higher than his shoulders and caused the fear of claustrophobia to set in. Stairs appeared ahead, and footfalls could be heard behind. He started walking towards the stairs and quickly ascended the few steps to the salted platform. The surface of the landing was covered in a puddle of salt water that seeped down the stairs, where it froze when it hit the ground. The crunch of footsteps hit the traveler’s ears, and he ran up the next flight of stairs. On either side, the shoulder high snow started to decrease in height, the fear that once hit was now gone. With a clearer head, the bundled up journeyer could hear the steps behind him growing in tempo and getting closer. He decided to pick up his pace and quickly cleared the next staircase with ease. The third platform, lined with dead plants half hidden in the snow, extended out further than the previous ones. Benches sat on either side of the large concrete slab with planters in the corners, filled with more dead plants and snow. At the other end of the landing sat the looming presence of a sturdy structure. With a sudden rush of cold wind, the adventurer clutched his jacket tighter, and a shiver slid down his spine. The door on the house opened, and Grandma welcomed the small boy into her loving arms.
By Colt Henderson2 years ago in Fiction
Sacrificial Summit
A thick flurry of snow attempted to block the silent man as he walked towards the top of the mountain. He pushed through, finally reaching the summit and knelt down. The violent wind, causing his brown robe to aggressively flap against him, was sharp on the monk's face. Tears began to fall from his vibrant green eyes as he stared out into the blue void that encapsulated him.
By Colt Henderson2 years ago in Fiction
Dark Whispers
The day had been long, but finally, the gift was done. Sweat poured out of a man standing in the middle of his forge, located in Central Mexico, as he examined his newest creation. A knife, less than a foot long, with an almost unnatural sharpness. It had started out as scrap from his different jobs, but with the help of a little heat and pressure, he made them into a beautifully crafted piece. A blade two inches at the base and tapered off to a point. The hilt was thick and sleek with a smattering of gold and turquoise covering the entire handle. The reason for the birth of such a knife was as a gift to the blade master's son, Carlos, for his tenth birthday. He absolutely loved his present. Carlos took it everywhere with him and used it to do everything from digging into the ground and trees to cutting his food when he ate. He even showed everyone he knew how beautiful and sharp it was, without being prompted. One day, during a game of tag with neighborhood children, another boy tackled Carlos as he dug in a hollow tree with his blade. He immediately forgot about his knife in the hollow part of the tree and rolled to his feet, and started chasing another kid. When the game eventually ended, Carlos realized he had lost where the tree and his favorite knife had been. He searched till dusk but had to rush home, or he would get in even more trouble for being out past dark. He would be back tomorrow to keep looking. A few days later, Jovil, a voodoo priest, noticed something reflecting his torchlight through the darkness of the moonless night. Intrigued by the odd phenomenon, he investigated the hollow tree. He pulled it from the chest height hole in the tree and examined it with one hand. A few swipes in the air, and Jovil stuck it in one of his bags and continued his journey. He was a well-known bokor, voodoo priest, and had taken his ministry on the road, as they say. He started by chartering a boat from his native Haiti to the nearby port of Riohacha in northern Columbia. Jovil continued his practices all the way through Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Honduras, and the rest of the remaining countries until he found himself passing that small village in Mexico. By the time he reached the United States, he had performed well over one hundred rituals. Jovil had no idea the power that flowed through the knife each time he killed an animal for his death rituals. That dark magic started to warp the knife and eventually turned it into a rippled effect with no straight edge. Jovil, blind to the literal corruption of his found knife, was slowly becoming infected Jovil had no idea the power that flowed through the knife each time he killed an animal for his death rituals. That dark magic started to warp the knife and eventually turned it into a rippled effect with no straight edge. Jovil, blind to the literal corruption of his found knife, was slowly becoming infected. The knife started whispering to Jovil. First, it was simple things; cut here, slice there, and was easily satisfied. Then, after a few more years of death rituals, the knife started speaking louder and asking to be fed more often. Jovil obliged the knife and started torturing animals outside of his rituals, but soon, that too wasn't enough. The blade demanded something better, something more precious. Jovil tried to increase the number of rituals he did, but that only seemed to fuel the blade's hunger. As a bokor he knew taking a human life in place of the goat or chicken would increase the potency of the spell and take something from you in trade, but the blade was a dull roar at this point. Jovil just wanted it to stop, but he lost the fight. He decided to take a vitality spell, but instead of burning fresh flesh fileted from an animal's hide, he would make a pyre and burn an unlucky traveler. He laid in wait for someone to come down the road through the forest. Jovil let the first few people pass as they were either in groups or looked like they could overpower him, but after hours of waiting, an older gentleman appeared on the road. He waited in the shadows for the single man to pass by and jumped on him as soon as he was behind him. He strangled the man until his body went limp but still breathing and dragged him to the pyre. After tying the older man to the makeshift wooden platform, he revealed his knife. The unconscious man couldn't care less until the bokor made his first stab to his calves. The man screamed awake as the waving blade carved an imperfect line, ending with a chunk of his muscle sliding off as he finished through the meat. Then he copied the wound on his other calf, despite the man begging him not to. Jovil hesitated when it came to piercing the older man's left bicep and couldn't go through with stabbing the right. Instead, he put the knife in his bag and took out a matchbox. He struck one match on the strip, and a flame popped into life, which he then threw at the base of the pyre. The man's screams and begging increased with the size of the fire. Jovil stood there, a few feet from the blazing and raising fire, with his hand in his bag gripping the knife with all his might. He felt life run into him and watched as his withered hands filled in till they were back to looking like his hands when he was in his 20's. The power of the knife scared Jovil, and he dropped it in the bag just before dropping the bag to the ground. He hurriedly picked it back up but made sure not to touch it. With this stolen life energy, Jovil vowed in that moment to lead a better life. He would never use the knife again. Instead, Jovil settled in New Orleans and changed his teachings to represent the positive side of his faith. He did his best to do as much good as possible. He even recruited others to his faith by living by example, but the knife, kept close for fear of it getting out, always beckoned him. The decades passed, and he succeeded in growing his faith. It wasn't until he was old once again that the knife caused more disorder. Unbeknownst to the bokor, the knife had found a malleable mind within his flock to warp. It wasn't long before the acolyte, Faustin, had risen to the top spot and forged a bond with the bokor. They even traveled and fought off the evil spirits when they found them. The acolyte planned out the next trip, which was just a ploy to get the older man alone in the woods of the neighboring state of Mississippi. A hot breeze rustled the fallen leaves as the pair stood in front of a large river. With no one around, Faustin started to sweat, and Jovil said “It's lying to you.” This fell on deaf ears as the acolyte struck the older man in the face, who surprisingly took the hit with no problem. The following wide swing from the enraged student was easily dodged and countered with a blast of pure energy that knocked the younger man back a few feet. Surprised by the attack, Faustin immediately jumped back at Jovil as soon as possible. He launched himself forward and threw a hard right, which was blocked expertly and countered with another blast of pure energy. The pure white ball jettisoned itself against the acolyte and pushed him back a few more feet. “You can only do that so many times, old man!” Faustin yelled as he jumped at his mentor again. This time, the acolyte got in close enough to pull on the hidden blade, but the bokor was still more experienced and easily countered the quick grab with a punch to Faustin's face. He then checked to make sure the knife he kept hidden for the sake of the world was still on his person. “Stop this now, Faustin!” Jovil yelled as he conjured another, more powerful bolt of energy that not only knocked the young man farther back, but it also singed the exposed skin and caught the clothing on fire. Not panicked by the pain or the fire that started on his clothes, Faustin patted the fire out and lunged at his mentor again. He was able to get inside the reach of the slightly taller man and started grabbing for the knife that was choreographing the acolytes movement. Jovil was dodging, but he was slowly getting tired. Faustin kept getting closer to the knife the more he grabbed for it and he noticed his victim getting slower and breathing harder. He would have that knife. He would replace the old man as the bokor and become even more powerful than Jovil. His hand quickly inched around the knife and pulled it from its hiding place. Jovil knew he had lost, but he made one last effort to stop his student by grabbing his wrist. The two men caught the others' eyes, and Jovil could see the corruption in Faustin, while Faustin would assert he saw weakness in the old man. “You don't have to do this!” Jovil pleaded with his friend. “I want to do this!” Faustin yelled as he took a solid step forward at the last word, forcing the knife into his mentor's stomach. “It will never be satisfied.” Jovil whispered in Faustin's ears as they embraced one last time. “Neither will I.” Faustin replied as he stepped back, letting Jovil fall to his knees, eyes stuck on the blood on the rippled blade. He smiled wide before kicking the crumpled man in the stomach. He then grabbed him by the leg, kicked him in the stomach again, and started dragging him towards a large tree. Once there, the acolyte pulled out a long rope and started to tie up his mentor. He then collected loose wood and leaned them against the base of the tree. The fire wasn't far behind as Faustin silently lit a match and threw it on the thin limbs, which quickly caught. He then admired the knife he had just used to murder before looking back up at the older man and puncturing his calves one at a time. A smile spread over his face as he used the sharp knife to cut away his clothes. He started to make shallow and quick slices all over the tied man's wrinkled flesh. After playing for a few minutes, which resulted in streams of blood to travel down to his feet where it was lost in the growing flames, Faustin stepped back and let the fire take him. Jovil's breathing became quick and labored as he tried not to scream, but that want changed when the flames started licking his naked flesh. It first blistered and bubbled before turning black. The student, knowing the same vitality spell, made the necessary steps and waited for the teacher to succumb to the fire or knife wound for the magic to work. Jovil, however, was still slightly empowered by the spell he did all those years ago and wasn't dying as quickly as he should. The peeling and blackening of his feet quickly grew to his pierced calves, then his thighs and genitals. Jovil's face was stuck in an agonizing scream, but his voice had gone out. He struggled against the binds that held him to the tree that was slowly being consumed by the fire, but his strength was starting to plummet. He pleaded one last time with his emotional eyes, tears filling them, but Faustin started laughing as he saw the light leaving the old man's eyes. It wasn't much longer before Jovil's body went limp and the fire had free range. Having youthful hands already, the vitality removed all scars and left Faustin with a healthy glow. Upon his return, the congregation did not trust him and disbanded. Not discouraged from the exodus, Faustin decided to try and sell his new knowledge for profit, much like Jovil. He started small to get to know the new rituals and sacrificed several goats to the Loa, or god, of Murder, named Baron Criminel. Faustin pledged to be his disciple, and the corruption was complete. The twisted blade quickly grew dissatisfied and demanded something more precious. Not one to disobey his new master, Faustin decided to plan a trip to Lafayette. On his way there, he found a secluded area, blocked on three sides by tree covered hills, and set up his platform. He then went back to the trail and waited. He didn't have to wait long before a man in his forties appeared, all alone. Unsure of how to approach the lone figure in the noon day sun, Faustin waited for him to pass him as he crouched behind a thick bush. After he passed him, Faustin grabbed a small but hefty rock and snuck up behind the man. The rock made a dull thud when it slammed into the clueless man's right temple. He crumpled to the ground and remained motionless. Faustin snatched up the man's feet and started pulling him into the trees. It was exhausting, but Faustin finally made his way back to his platform. It took a few hard minutes for him to strap the man to the pole he had made. Faustin started collecting firewood from the surrounding area until there was a large base lining the perimeter of the platform. As he was putting the finishing touches on the pyre, quick lighting materials between the wall of wood and the pole, the man stirred awake. Faustin ignored the man's pleas until he heard, “You don't have to do this.” “What is with you people thinking I have to do this? I want to do this! Now,” Faustin grabbed a large amount of collected moss and shoved it into the man's mouth, “Shut up!” The man squirmed and screamed into the moss as Faustin unknowingly made the first few shallow cuts like Jovil, but when it came to stabbing the man, he followed through. After slicing off the calves of the tied victim, he impaled the biceps, forearms, and finally, the stomach. The sadistic bokor carved the stomach from one side to the other, which caused the innards to spill out on the wooden platform. The match was quick to light and silently flew through the air and landed on the dry brush and moss. The fire ignited, and it roared to life a second later. Behind Faustin came some rustling, and he turned just in time to watch a line of American soldiers, brought by the firelight, brandishing Model 1803 rifles aimed at him. “Halt!” The line of men wearing identical uniforms yelled. Faustin swore and ran for the river behind the bonfire he had just started. The soldiers fired freely, and a few rounds hit the fleeing bokor. He grabbed onto the hilt of the knife and repeated the words to connect to the magic that was now flowing into him. He felt a round embed itself in his shoulder, then one through his elbow, and one clipping his side and breaking his rib. As he ran and the magic seeped into him, the bullet in his shoulder was slowly pushed out as he ran. His elbow slowly fixed itself, the rib popped back into place, and the scrap healed. Faustin believed he was invincible, but when he hit the water, slowing his momentum, the first reloaded gun fired. It was quickly accompanied by a string of gunshots pointed at his back. Several shots hit him in the upper back, and a few hit his lower, but several more clipped his right hand, forcing him to drop the powered knife. The multiple wounds that were in the middle of healing stopped, and Faustin's momentum took him to the shore. He landed on his hands and knees. He swore again as he heard the clanging and banging of the troops that were clearly on his tail. Faustin looked around the shallow part of the water near him for the knife but found nothing. His attention turned from his weapon, then the sound of over a dozen rifles cocked. He sat down in the water and looked up at the soldiers. He expected no mercy, and when someone yelled “Fire!” he knew he would receive none. The bullets ripped through him as he smiled, thinking he would be welcomed with open arms, but the last thing his riddled brain heard, besides the multitude of gunshots, was a hiss of disappointment and a voice that whispered “Only 2 lives?”. As time went on, that little tributary dried up, and one fateful day, a boy, looking for an adventure, came across a gold and turquoise handle with the rest buried under a rock. When the kid grabbed the hilt, a sharp cold bit him, causing him to recoil from the object. He stared at it with curiosity building and reached out for it again. The handle was still bitingly cold, but the innocent child didn't know to leave it be. Instead he wrapped his small fingers around the cold exposed metal and pulled. Nothing happened. He would have to dig it out. More than an hour passed before the kid could see what he assumed to be the blade. “It's a knife!” He exclaimed as he started to feel the blade. “Ouch!” He whispered as he cut his finger as he caressed the apparent sharp edge. He suddenly had the urge to grasp the handle, and when he did, he heard a small voice barely audible say, “Hello.”
By Colt Henderson2 years ago in Fiction
Introducing
“Hello everyone. Let me welcome Colt Henderson to the table. He is a member of vocal.media, has stories in three anthologies, and is apparently working on his first novel.” The host of the show said into the microphone in front of him. “This is where you talk, Colt.” “Oh, right. I, um, I'm 35, from north Texas. I have a dog named Sir Cottonwood III and a parakeet, Buddy Boy. I live …” “Let me stop you there. This isn't a dating site.” The host interjected. “This is about the coming year and your plans for your writing.” “Well, one thing I need to work on is my dialog.” The handsome man smirked. “But what else would you like to know?” “You usually write horror, correct?” “Yes.” “What are some other genres you would like to try out? Branch out from the horror scene.” “I am going to try and branch out on Vocal. They have so many options it's hard to narrow down, so I am going to try a few different genres.” “That's a bit dry, but it's an answer.” “What do you mean dry?” “It's just informative. What's your character? Who are you?” The host asked through his aviator sunglasses. “OK … what's your next question? I will try a bit harder.” Colt sat back in the comfortable chair and waited. “What else do you think you should work on?” “That's an easy one! I need to show more and tell less. I am still guilty of it now, unfortunately.” “How often do you write now? Can you write more?” “I currently write a little bit everyday, but I can and will write more this year.” “You brought up Vocal. What is it for people unaware?” “It is a platform for writers of every type. There are poets, novelists, short story writers, tech writers, and so many other things it is easier to visit the site at vocal.media. Click on Communities and there is a long list.” “Are there any other benefits to being a part of Vocal?” The host asked as he leaned back in his chair and took a sip of whatever was in his plain black mug. “There are several benefits to being a member. One would be the ability to read other members' pieces. I always comment after I read something. The second would be the ability to collaborate with fellow Vocal members. I have done it once and loved it. I just haven't been around much to be in another. Third is the challenges for members. I have been writing for the challenges for a few years now. I have Vocal to thank for getting me started to write again.” “Is there anyone on Vocal you would like to collaborate with?” The man asked, getting closer to the microphone. “The last collaboration I was a part of was about climate change, and the one before that was mental health awareness. I don't know many people on Vocal and the few I do are constantly pushing themselves. I wouldn't want to possibly mess up their flow.” “What kind of impact are you going to have if you are afraid to interact with other creators?” The host asked as he picked up the mic and rolled his chair closer to Colt. “I wouldn't say afraid. I would s …” “You're a shy and sensitive guy.” The eccentric interviewer said low and slow with the microphone pressed to his lips. “No, I would say I am trying to respect their space.” Colt asserted with confidence. “And then you get to stay in your bubble.” The flamboyantly dressed man stated. “I guess so.” “So what do you want your impact on Vocal to be?” “I want to be known for good horror, but I think being good at building solid stories overall would be nice.” “Tell us more about those Vocal challenges you mentioned.” “Sure! They have different writing challenges all the time. They have short story challenges and poetry ones. 1st prize is always different, but it is usually money. They also have sponsored challenges sometimes. I have been entering for a few years now. “How has that shaped your writing?” “Like I said, I have Vocal to thank for me writing again. I have always had stories running through my mind, but Vocal got me to write them down. I even enter random online writing contests now. It just depends on the prompt and if I find it interesting. It has allowed me to work through some stress.” “Well, that is a good thing. Stress can kill.” The red three piece suit wearing man feigned interest until he asked his next question into a nonexistent camera. “What are you working on now?” “I am working on my first novel.” “Awesome! What's it about? What's it called? Tell us everything!” “Well, it doesn't have a name yet, but it is about a woman turning into a wendigo. This isn't a mythological creature feature either. It's more of a psychological look into someone's mind. A study of one person's fall into madness.” “That sounds like a great concept!” The host said. “Yeah, it's a difficult subject. I just hope I am able to do it justice.” The guest replied. “I can see the passion in your eyes. Where was that earlier?” The red man asked. “I don't know.” “You're a little scared. It's okay.” “I am not scared.” The guest said louder than before. “It's 2024, it is fine to be scared. I am scared of spiders and trampolines!” The host said as he leaned back in his chair, microphone in his hand. “I am not scared!” Colt bellowed. “Stop saying that.” “Okay, okay.” The man cracked a flashy smile. “I am just trying to help you work on you.” The chair rolled into the wall as Colt stood up abruptly. “Hey! Where you going?” Colt flung the headphones off and slapped the microphone in front of him. “That wasn't necessary.” He then kicked the chair, causing several holes in the wall. “You're gonna be billed for that.” Colt swung the door open, flipped the host the bird, and walked out of the room. “Well, that could have gone better. Next at the table is a dog lover looking for her long lost family. We are scraping the bottom of the barrel.”
By Colt Henderson2 years ago in Interview
Once Bitten
April 20, 1880 I was allowed to go on a supply run today. We crept our way towards the town, watching for the dead. There were 3 or 4 on our way to town, but they came at us one at a time, which made it easy. Our first view of main street was horrific. Bodies laid in piles of blood and scattered organs. Mom tried to cover my eyes, but Joseph told her I had already seen worse. I was there when the first wave attacked our small outpost. The dead came from every direction. My dad tried his best, but one dead turned into five, and he was eaten right before my eyes. We were divided into groups of 3 and given a building to check. Me and mom got Joseph and the general store. It was completely untouched. We stuffed our bags and went back outside. The bodies were gone. I noticed first, but before I could say anything, a loud scream rang out from inside the saloon. We ran to help, but the threat was dealt with, and everyone was safe. Unfortunately, the scream caught the attention of the rest of the dead that had disappeared. There were over a dozen. We were outnumbered, but thankfully, we weren't the only ones to hear the scream. The rest of the groups came just in time. After we finished dealing with the dead, we came back to the fort. Another successful trip outside the wall. We found a lot of food, and no one was hurt.
By Colt Henderson2 years ago in Horror
Bloodline. Top Story - December 2023. Content Warning.
“I can't believe you have never been to Goatman's Bridge, Brittney.” Derrick and his twin brother, Darren, said in unison. “What's so special about it?” Brittney asked as they pulled into a parking spot and got out of the car. “Nothing, really.” Derrick replied. “We have been here a bunch of times, and nothing has ever happened,” Darren told the group. “What is supposed to happen?” Brittney asked. “Well, that is where the intrigue begins.” Derrick said. “It could be one of three options. One is a lynching victim that comes back for revenge, two is the wife of the lynched man, looking for her murdered children, and three is Satanists summoned a portal to Hell.” Everyone was silent as they climbed the small incline to the abandoned road. Soon, they were mere feet from the start of the iron truss bridge with a wooden deck. The four of them stood there for a few seconds before Brittney broke the silence. “What do we do now?” “We need to knock three times at midnight and cross the bridge.” Emily finally spoke up as everyone remained silent and looked at each other. “I don't remember that,” Darren said. “Yeah, you have to knock three times on the bridge at midnight.” Emily took a few steps to the metal supports and knocked. She slowly walked onto the wooden deck. Derrick and Darren were the next two to knock and walk, and then Brittney followed suit. “You know what? I like the idea of the portal to Hell the most. The other two are terrible.” Brittney shivered. “And kind of the same story, right?” Darren looked around, but when no one spoke up, he continued, “It's the wife of the goat herder that got lynched looking for whoever murdered her children. All of them were killed that night by some klansmen.” “I think the goat herder's name was Oscar Kendall, actually.” Emily looked at them, becoming more animated. “It was1899 when a group of …” “We don't need to go down that road tonight, do we, Emily?” Derrick said. Emily glared at him and fell silent. “Hey, I want to know.” Brittney said, giving Derrick a frustrated push. Emily looked smug. “Oscar Kendall was a successful black goat farmer down the way from this bridge. He put a sign that said ‘This way to the Goatman’ on the end of the bridge, and a group of angry white people decided that was worth his life. They pulled him out of his house in the middle of the night and dragged him to the bridge where they had a noose waiting. The mob put Oscar's head through the noose and threw him over the edge of the bridge, but something went wrong, and Oscar's head snapped off his body. They searched for the body up and down Hickory Creek, but it never showed up.” “Where do the three knocks come from?” Brittney asked. “That I don't know,” Emily replied. “Ha … I do.” Darren laughed before replying, “It is the rule of three.” After everyone just kind of shrugged, he explained. “Whatever you put out into the world, whether negative or positive, comes back to you at least threefold.” “So what are we putting out?” Brittney interjected. “Positive or negative?” When he only responded with a shrug, the group fell into general chatter, talking and walking from one side of the bridge to the other without moving further down the deck. A few more minutes dragged by before Derrick and Darren turned to walk down the bridge. Three “nos” instantly came from the young women. “Come on, ladies.” Derrick sighed. “Nothing is going to happen.” Darren assured them. “Fine!” Brittney huffed before she and Emily followed behind the boys, huddling together as they walked. A loud clap of thunder rumbled, but no flash of lightning accompanied it. The girls squealed as they ran to catch up to the boys. Another, even louder crack of thunder, echoed all around them, causing the girls to huddle together as they walked. There was still no flash, and only seconds passed before a third peal of thunder rang out, seemingly from the center of the bridge. A gust of wind sprang forth from nowher, almost pushing the teens to the ground. “What is happening?” Brittney cried. “We don't know,” Derrick shouted. He took a step back as a red circle carved itself out of the fabric of reality. It took less than a second for the circle to become whole, but watching the red line get longer and surviving the ear-splitting tone with which the process assaulted their human ears made it feel like the longest second of their lives. The crimson line became a red circle before the inside of the circle started to trickle down like droplets of blood, completely disappearing at the bottom, revealing a black hole wrapped in crimson liquid. There was a flash of light from inside the hole, and something slowly rolled out of it. The five teens watched as shadowy figures threw something else at the opening. The second item landed right on top of the first and shot it out of the portal to Hell. The group looked down, frozen in fear, to see the head of a goat lying at their feet. The teens all let out a series of cries as they took a few steps back. Darren reached for his phone to catch the experience on video and got recording just in time to get the shadowy figure throwing another object. This odd item had more heat on it and hit Derrick in the chest with a disgusting squish before falling to the ground. It was a human head this time, male, blond haired, with milky blue eyes that stared at them reproachfully. Derrick stumbled over his own feet to turn around and run. Emily fainted when a naked figure stepped to the threshold, haloed in crimson light. An overwhelming smell of decaying flesh invaded the teens' senses before the thing emerged fully. It was a large, muscular man with the legs and head of a goat. In its hands were severed human heads. The literal Goatman stood between seven and nine feet tall with glowing red eyes. Aside from its hind legs and genitals, the beast was hairless and covered in scars. It threw both of the heads it held at Brittney. The giant goat growled as the limber teen dodged the heads and turned to run. Derrick was back down the incline and still running. Emily was mere feet from the monster, but it paid her no mind. Its red eyes were fixated on Brittney. It growled again before lunging at the girl. She was able to roll out of the way and quickly got to her feet to run off the bridge. The demonic satyr jumped in front of her planned route, revealed a thick knife in each hand, and plunged them into the girl's chest. Then, with a swift movement, the Goatman decapitated the screaming girl with the same blades. Her head spun in the air, mouth still open, eyes wide, reflecting the red glow of the unholy portal. The beast let the body drop to the wooden deck but snatched her head out of the air. Without missing a stride, it entered the crimson gateway, the heads of his former victims following on a blast of hot wind. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the portal vanished. In the far distance, thunder rumbled like a contented beast after a meal. As soon as the hole disappeared, Emily dragged herself, shaking to her feet from where she had fallen when the wind knocked her off her feet. She was lucky to have fallen at the right angle to keep from slamming her head into the wooden deck. She finally noticed Darren standing there, recording her. “Are you going to help me or just keep recording?” Emily screamed as she put her hands out towards him. “I can do both,” Darren replied as he stepped over and helped her to her feet, his phone in her face. “What happened?” she asked, still in a daze. Then she noticed Brittney’s body. She screamed. “Brittney!” “The thing chased her down,” Darren said, swallowing hard. “I don't want to know, Darren.” Emily could barely keep the tears at bay. “I want to go home. Now!” “The car is back this way …” “Let’s go.” Her words were high pitched, but Emily stopped, took in a breath, then finished in a regular tone. Tears tracked down the smudges of dirt on her face. “Around. I will walk around,” Emily said as she took a few steps away from the support of Darren. “That's a dead end now,” Darren replied as he continued to record her. Emily stopped walking and slumped her shoulders before turning around. When she noticed Darren was recording her, she let out an angry “Stop!” and tried to walk to him. He laughed as he pranced in front of her, mocking each stumbling step before stopping and letting her catch up. When she did, he turned his camera off. “Are you sure you don't want to see what you missed?” Darren asked, teasing her with his phone. Emily walked to the other side of the bridge, keeping her eyes focused on the metal supports as she hurried along. Darren followed her, but seconds after leaving the bridge, the phone was back in her face. “How are you so calm?” Emily asked as they walked down the incline. “I kind of shit my pants.” Darren looked back at her with raised eyebrows before shrugging and almost whispering, “And I froze.” Emily could barely hold back a laugh for a moment before asking, “What was with the phone?” “He just looked through me, and I knew he didn't want me.” Darren stared at her, “And then I figured I should record it because no one would believe us.” “I can't believe the story was true,” Emily said as they stood where the car should have been. “Right, who knew the Satanists actually summoned a demon?” Darren responded as he started to fidget with his phone again. “Where is it?” “Derrick left us?” Emily leaned on the incline, “And if that was a demon, it would have killed anyone, right? I think the story about being judged off your bloodline is true.” “What?” Darren snapped. “I think Brittney had klansmen in her heritage.” Emily said matter of factly “What the hell, Emily?” Darren yelled as he shakily pointed to the bridge. Standing at the edge of the bridge was a beautiful ebony skinned woman, wrapped in an eerie white light, with her arms stretched out towards the teens. She whispered something that was then carried on the wind. “Thank you.” “You're welcome, Mama.” Emily whispered uncomfortably to herself.
By Colt Henderson2 years ago in Horror
Sandstorm
Where should I start? Some would say at the beginning, but my time is limited, and there is much to tell. Perhaps the most important detail, the one from which all others stem, is that I’m a telepath. The hard part was not reading people. It was shutting them out. I quickly leaped in grades and was learning advanced practices when I was eleven. People didn't trust me not to pry in their mind's when I got close, so despite them being witches and wizards, they avoided me. It was a good thing I would only be there for two years and get my masters in time, illusions, and healing. People often called me stupid for not focusing on my natural power, but they didn't know I could fully hypnotize adults at age seven. Telepathy was easy for me, and I didn't need to know the technical names for things I had mastered. After school, I immediately got a job at a research laboratory on manipulating time. It was fulfilling until I realized that every breakthrough was given to large corporations to bastardize and sell it for a profit. I quit after I found out eight years later. A position at a startup business that made potions was available. I could speed up the cooking time on everything and was paid handsomely. Over the next 20 years, the company grew to the second largest in the world. I was ready to retire when a kingdom requested my services. They offered 3 times as much as the company, so I had to see what it entailed. I now regret taking the job. The King started me off small by having me speed up their potion making, but by the end, where I am now, I may as well have been a necromancer. I didn't bring anyone back, mind you, I just violated the law of autonomy. I sped up the lives of hundreds of babies to turn them into soldiers for the king. But I was in the King's good graces, which made me untouchable. I am not so sure where the children came from, actually, but I never questioned them. 15 long years of loyalty to the crown, and I get this for a punishment! To wander this endless desert for the rest of my life. I did everything ever asked of me. I broke the law for every member of the royal family, and they gave me the traitors death. My wrists were branded, which blocked my magic, and I have been forced to find the long lost Temple of Time to retrieve the sun disk in the center. No one has ever returned. There are 2 ways to find the temple. One is obviously with magic, but without it, you had to fast until you hallucinated the temple. Only then could you find the Temple of Time. Next, you entered a maze full of malevolent creatures meant for defense of the sun disk. If you are able to retrieve the disk and place it in the Temple of Illusions, the Temple of Time will become tangible. It could then be mapped out and eventually plundered. I was given 3 days' worth of rations and water, but I thankfully made them last for a week. I constantly walked, only taking breaks when the sun went down, and ended up nowhere. Just more sand and a bright sun beating down. I was primed to hallucinate after a few more days with no hydration, and as I topped the dune, my knees gave out, and I fell into the scorching sand and rolled down the other side of the dune. When I stopped rolling, I was on my back, and there was nothing above me but clear blue sky. The hot sand was only so deep, then it was cool, and I was now partially submerged in it with my head poking out. It took me some effort to climb out of the sand, but I managed in my weakened state. Then I just laid there, on top of the sand. The sun would be setting soon so I decided to stay there for the night. Despite being dehydrated and starving, I wasn't hallucinating. If I could just reach the temple, I would find food and water, but it seemed I would never find it. There really wasn't a temple, was there? At least, that's what I started to believe. When I tried to continue walking my legs started to cramp and I fell again. This was when my depression hit, and I was convinced I wasn't going to live for much longer. A few hours turned into a day, and I was still alive. Still starving and even more dehydrated, but alive, so I decided to get back up. I stood as tall as I could and marched on towards nothing but more sand. I was in intense pain from head to toe as my legs propelled me further into the heat of the day. I didn't know where I was going, and my body seemed to be on autopilot. I swear I passed out, and when I woke up, I was still marching in the sand. That's when I realized this was my fate. My life before was the illusion. I was never there. I have always been here, in this endless desert, marching towards nothing, forever. Engulfed in the desert's parched silence, I was nothing but another grain of sand in the wind.
By Colt Henderson2 years ago in Fiction
Accident
Hands moving quickly, My finger pokes my right eye. Now I feel stupid. This is a true story, unfortunately. I don't quite remember what grade it was 7th or 8th. I was presenting a project about Greek mythology and in my nervous stammer I made the mistake. I poked it hard, too. It wasn't a light poke, oh no! My eye not only watered for several minutes but it was sore for 2 whole days. Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this haiku, please check out my profile for more. If you like horror then I got you there, too. Any interactions are appreciated.
By Colt Henderson2 years ago in Poets