Scott’s side blog for fics and stories. After I wrote the original ending my office chair broke so i made it a little less angsty. Sorry it’s so short.
Words: 552
It was an accident, he did not mean to hit him. Larry watched as some other cop dragged Freddy off the street and into the back of the cruiser. The bullet had ripped a bloody hole through his right shoulder. He would never hear the end of this. Vic pulled him away and they quickly got back in the car. People were cheering. Larry was not. He had just shot his husband.
Scott’s side blog for fics and stories. After I wrote the original ending my office chair broke so i made it a little less angsty. Sorry it’s so short.
Words: 552
It was an accident, he did not mean to hit him. Larry watched as some other cop dragged Freddy off the street and into the back of the cruiser. The bullet had ripped a bloody hole through his right shoulder. He would never hear the end of this. Vic pulled him away and they quickly got back in the car. People were cheering. Larry was not. He had just shot his husband.
They drove to the warehouse and made their way to the back room. The shot was still ringing in his ears. The others were congratulating him. Who would have guessed that a pick up would turn into a shootout with the chief of police. And Larry had managed to land a shot. Sure it was not fatal but it was still a big fuck you to the police.
There was no way Larry could go to the hospital. It would be crawling with cops. He would just have to wait until tonight. Shoulder wounds were not that bad.
The rest of the day crawled slowly by. He inventoried the stuff from today's pick up. It was not a long job but he made it into one. Larry did not want to talk to anybody else right now. He had shot his partner. He meant to aim his gun at the wall a little to the left of him but Vic bumped him and he pulled the trigger. He could have killed him. He almost did. The bullet found its mark right under Freddy’s collarbone, shredding the muscle there. That would take a long time to fully heal.
Larry checked his watch. Five twenty. Fuck that. He was leaving. He left out the back so as to avoid the others and walked to his car. The drive home was silent. His head was spinning. What would he tell him? The truth? The truth. Freddy knew when he was lying and that would only make it worse.
None of the lights were on in the flat. None that Larry could see. He reached the door to find it locked. Freddy was not back yet. What if the wound was worse than he thought? He unlocked the door and closed it slowly behind him, leaving it unlocked. Larry opened the fridge and looked at the contents, not really wanting to eat. He would have to get groceries soon. The doorknob clicked and Larry turned around to see Freddy with his right arm in a sling.
“Oh shit, I’m so sor-” he was cut short.
“Fuck you. You stupid prick you weren’t supposed to hit me.”
“Vic bumped me when I shot I-” cut short again.
“Vic bumped you? I’m gonna arrest his ass and then I’m gonna shoot you,” Freddy set a bottle of pills on the counter, “But not right now. Everything hurts and I’m exhausted.”
He fell onto the couch and Larry sat next to him, being careful not to touch his shoulder. Freddy curled into him and was asleep in seconds. He did not think Freddy would actually shoot him but he would still be more careful. At least the wound was not too bad. They must have him on some serious pain killers though.Larry planted a kiss on the top of Freddy’s head and went to sleep himself.
Most people enjoy a stroll in the forest. It feels peaceful. Safe. Not for those who were present for the Harvest Event. The Event took place on January 25, 2003. Seven individuals were involved. Their names were Joshua White, Micheal Edwards, Brandon Phillips, David Brown, Chris Hill, Daniel Roberts, and Matthew Moore. Only three survived. However, due to poor investigation, that area of the forest is still open to the public. It has been a little over sixteen years since the Event and still, no bodies have been found. All victims are presumed missing. Even with three statements confirming their death. Who would believe three kids? This was obviously just some big prank. Because of this belief, two of the statements were destroyed. The following is the statement of David Brown.
It was a snow day that Friday so some friends and I were going to camp out in the woods behind Michael’s house. We all met up at Chris’s place to get our stuff, sleeping bags and the like, and then we biked to the forest. Michael was waiting for us in his back garden and we left our bikes there. The forest was too dense for them anyway.
All of us were wearing lots of layers but Brandon’s mum was really overprotective of him. I think all the extra clothing is what saved him.
We figured out who carried what and then walked into the woods. The snow came up about sixteen centimeters so carrying anything heavy was next to impossible. I am not sure when but after about an hour or two we noticed we were nowhere near the trail. This should have been the first sign something was off since Michael and Josh knew that place well. The forecast said it was due to rain that night and melt the snow. It was already getting dark and so we decided to set up camp and wait till the snow was gone to find the path again.
There were two tents and we all fit pretty well. It was way colder than I thought it would be though so I was happy to have Brandon in my tent with all his extra clothes. Matt was also in with us. There were only three of us since we were bigger. Daniel complained about being in the tent with Josh so we told him if he didn’t like it he could sleep outside. He was a stubborn asshole so he did. I could hear his teeth chattering from inside my sleeping bag. Daniel was the youngest so we messed with him a lot. If I had known what was going to happen I would have let him just stay in our tent.
I woke up to the sound of heavy rain against the tarp. I was pissed so I checked my watch. It was two forty-eight in the morning. I pulled the sleeping bag back over my head and tried to go back to sleep. I didn’t even think about Daniel till I heard the crying. I thought he must have been freezing so I moved to sit up. And hand stopped me and I could just make out Matt, holding a finger to his lips. His eyes were wide with fear and I did not understand.
The crying stopped for a moment and that is when I heard it. I can still hear that sound. I feel it in my chest and jaw. The wet crunch of a bloody bone. The sound was so complete I could almost see what was going on just feet from our tent. I felt Brandon tense next to me and knew he was awake as well. Then the crying began again. It was awful. I had no idea what was going on outside and that was fine. I hoped that the others were okay because we had no idea how to get back.
The crying stopped again. I was expecting another crunch but instead I heard a low creaking sound and then silence. Matt looked like he was on the verge of tears. The tent bulged behind him. A long claw speared the tent, ripping it open. There was a thud and then it pulled back. At this point we were all in a panic to get out of there. I thought Brandon was dead but he almost knocked me over trying to get out. Matt followed quickly behind him.
Outside, the rain made it almost impossible to see. I could make out a dark mass about where Daniel had been. Everyone was going in a different direction in an attempt to get away from there. I could see Josh’s blond hair in the dark so I ran after him. I had no idea where the others were or what was chasing us and i really did not care. Josh knew the forest pretty well so i figured he would be able to get me out of there. After running for a time I noticed that Chris was with us. Now that Daniel was gone, he was the youngest at only fourteen. There was still about ten centimeters of snow and we were freezing from the rain.
It felt like we had been running for hours when we finally stopped. Chris collapsed and started to cry. Any other time I would have made fun of him but I was crying too. All of us were. After a while I checked my watch again, it was a habit at this point. The time was three ten. I had no idea what had happened to the others. We all just sat there under this big twisted tree. Chris moved closer and I noticed the blood on his leg. He said he cut it while we were running. Then it went silent.
The rain was still pouring but it did not make a sound. A eire melody echoed from what must have been the camp site. It was so sad, and at the same time, so full of life. The rain was back and we decided it was time to move on. Josh told us that the path was not far from where we were. Chris held onto my arm and I held onto Josh’s hood. The rain was so thick that if we did not do that we risked losing each other.
It was getting cold and the snow still left on the ground was beginning to freeze, our steps making loud crunches. These were a little alarming at first as every step that was not mine set my heart pounding. I got used to it after a while, and began to recognize what three sets of steps sounded like. Slowly, the undergrowth around us faded and we were on a path again. I could even see our old footsteps from earlier. This was the way out. After following them back for a while we noticed more steps heading out of the forest. It was a while before we saw the flecks of grey in the snow next to the prints. I had let go of Josh’s hood since we were no longer in the trees but Chris still held onto my arm.
It seemed like we had been walking for days so I checked my watch. It was still three ten. Then I noticed that there appeared to be getting more footsteps in the snow. It looked like hundreds of people had walked the trail. The grey in the snow was becoming black now. We were going in a circle. The black must be the blood from Chris’s leg. That did not make any sense though. None of this made any sense.
I pointed this out to Josh. He said he had been worried about the same thing but was too afraid to say anything. We turned off the trail and back into the woods.
The rain was worse in the trees if that is even possible. I had no idea what was possible anymore. I took hold of Josh’s hood and Chris gripped my arm a little tighter. After a few minutes, we heard voices. They were arguing. One of them sounded like Brandon. The other was quieter so we could not tell who it was. It took all we had not to run towards them. Running would mean letting go of each other and the possibility of getting lost was too high. We stumbled through the ferns and undergrowth. I could make out Brandon’s bulky coats in the dark. But the shape he was talking too was not Matt.
It was impossibly black so that I could only see it’s silhouette and rail thin. It could not have been made of any more than bones. The thing was tall, almost three meters but Brandon looked level in front of him, as if they were the same size. The head of the creature was almost human in shape but it looked to have a snout. The most unsettling part however, is that it did not talk. It only hummed that same tune we heard earlier. We stood still in horror, fearing that if we moved it would notice us.
Brandon called it Matt and told it that the others were dead and that they should just get out of there. It hummed. He said there was no point. It hummed. He said he missed his family. It opened a glowing mouth filled with long, thin, teeth as more arms than I could count spread themselves from it’s torso. It told him that it could take him back to his family. He saw it now in all its terror. The neck extended at an impossible speed and the jaws closed firmly around his stomach. Arms closed around him and it lifted him into the air. The teeth must not have been able to get through all his winter clothes and it spat him out, dropping him near us. He saw us and screamed.
I wish I could say I helped him up, that I pulled Chris with me as I ran. But I did not. I turned and sprinted into the woods my friends forgotten. I was vaguely aware of Josh somewhere to my left. There was a crashing sound coming from behind us that was keeping me from looking back. I did not want to know what was behind me. There was a scream and an unearthly wail and the crashing stopped. I ran a little further just to be safe before I hid behind a tree to see what was happening.
The others were nowhere to be seen. Chris was crawling desperately towards a nearby tree, dragging his legs behind him. The left one looked to be nothing more than bone. The creature had its face buried in it’s many hands and was crying, an almost blinding glow coming from under its skin. Then it began to shift, shrinking, widening out. It’s face was shorter and it only had two arms although they were still long and sharp. I could see its eyes and skin. It looked to be a child about seven years old. It’s arms were now long enough and its hands were huge and still black. Tears streamed down its face.
It approached Chris slowly, innocently. He pleaded for it to go away, not to hurt him anymore. I could tell he would not last much longer. The thing reached him and squatted down in front of him. It cupped his face in one large hand, and began to sing. The song was heavy and sang the sorrow of the trees. It felt bad for hurting him like this. It was supposed to be someone else. Who, it did not know, but Chris was not them. It was so sad. Even with all the horror around me that night, I have never felt more calm and doubt I ever will again. All the aches in my body were gone. Chris stopped crying and he seemed to be almost asleep. Then the singing creature snapped his neck. It was so fast I almost missed it. The song finished and it began to return to its previous form. I understood now how much pain it felt. It was so sad. It turned and silently walked away, melting into the darkness.
I did not notice how long I was standing there, staring at Chris’s corpse. I checked my watch. Six fifty-two. When I looked back up Chris was gone. In his place was an enormous tree.
I knew where to go. It took me almost an hour to get out of the woods and by then daylight was creeping through the trees. I could not hear the police cars until I left the tree line. The sound hit me all at once. Brandon and Josh were sitting in the back of an ambulance. They must not have stopped to see what happened. I was the only one. They asked after Chris but all I could do was shake my head. I have no idea what happened to the others but I am sure they are dead. I do not believe it was the singing creature though. I think there are more things in the woods at night than we will ever understand.
I still can not speak but I think I was humming while writing some of this. The same tune of the thing that killed Chris. It calms me a little bit but not as much as the thing.
Brandon Phillips and Joshua White have since moved away from Harvest and have not returned. David Brown lived there until late September, 2016, when he disappeared. An investigation was held but it turned up nothing. If you go into the woods, you might find a large pine tree. If you touch that tree a feeling of childhood nostalgia might wash over you. You might also find yourself humming an indescribable tune. The woods are dangerous at night. Bringing a friend will not make them any safer.
Quick excerpt from my book. Let me know if you want more.
Words: 550
The theater was dark. Sam’s eyes were having trouble adjusting to the dark and his head was reeling. Memories were beginning to come back to him now. The Commander yelling his name, bullet holes riddling Voorker’s chest, the blood gushing from Chernov’s leg as he screamed for him. Sam tried to sit up only to fall back down from the pain. It felt like someone was trying to push his eyes out from the inside and small black spots were flickering in his vision.
Then, so faint as if it might be from another world, “...Thrush.” Someone was calling his name. Someone else was here.
“Fox?” No response, “Fox, is that you?”
Then there was the unmistakable sound of something heavy hitting flesh, the cracking of bones, a choked cough. Light footsteps crepts closer to Sam as he lay in pain on the floor. He could just make out the shape of City boots through the spots in his eyes.
“You took quite a hit back there Sam,” it was a man’s voice, “Don’t know if you’ll ever recover.”
The boot connected with his side, precious air leaving his lungs as he coughed. A face bent down into his tiny field of view. It had one powder blue eye and a gaping hole where the left one should be. The entire left side of the face was burnt and raw. Sam felt the bile building up in his throat. His head was on fire and the room began to spin. He tried to push himself up if only to get away from the awful face before him. His legs felt like twigs as they scrambled to support his weight.
Sam had made it a good five feet or so before he collapsed onto the dusty theater carpet. The face padded closer to him. Streaks of void were filling his vision and his arms and legs were starting to go numb. If he blacked out now he was as good as dead. Sam’s sight was gone now and he could no longer move. Just before he fell into nothingness he could swear he heard the face say, “It’s a good thing I like you Sam.” At least he would not be awake for his death.
At first the lights blinded him. His vision was blurry and all he could make out were colors. The tall block of maroon at his side must be an Officer. Why were there Officers in Heaven?
“Thrush? Can you hear me?” It was Tarkov.
“Mmm, yeah…” Sam’s head was still pounding.
“You and Chernov were the only ones to make it out. He found you in Tury and kept you alive until we could get a unit out there,” there was a hint of resentment in his voice. Sam knew how much he had cared about Voorker, “You’ve taken a blow to the back of your head but with some rest you’ll pull through.”
Sam thought for a moment. “How’s Chernov?”
“His leg was unsalvageable. Had to amputate. He’s resting right now and they’re fitting him for a prosthetic,” Tarkov poked something on a machine next to Sam’s bed, “Get some rest. You’ll be needing it.” And then he was gone.
Sam quickly fell into a deep sleep filled with charred faces, blue eyes, and blood.
All writers have demons, but Gavin’s is a little different.
Words: 794
The gun pressed harder into James’s throat. He had almost freed his hands from their bindings but if the man leaned a little farther forward he would see this. In trying to slide the knife up his sleeve, he dropped it. It sliced his finger in a last ditch attempt to catch it as it fell to the floor. Given the situation the sound it made was deafening.
The man stopped talking. He slid the gun back into his belt. Sighing, he turned away and put his hands on the table, letting his head fall. Then the man pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. He set it before him and waited for a response. It buzzed. He muttered something under his breath, shaking his head.
“You really are stupi-”
“Fuck! This story is fucking awfull! No one will ever read this crap.”
Gavin pushed away from the desk, closing the laptop as he did so. He needed something to eat. A quick glance at the clock told him he should have been in bed hours ago. He made his way down the hall, not turning on the lights. The kitchen was only a little way away. Gavin got a cup from the cupboard and filled it with water from the fridge. He opened the fridge and stared gloomily at the contents. His grocery list was already longer than his leg.
There was a sound like to dog claws on linoleum. He rummaged around in the fruit bin and selected a decent looking apple. When he closed the fridge door he saw a terrifying creature standing behind it. The skin was black and it had long too-thin legs and not much of a torso. The torso was a little on the small side but it was also missing a lot of vital components such as ribs. Any organs were immediately obvious but there were not that many. The arms were spindly at best and the skin on the fingers tapered off at the ends leaving long, sharpened bones exposed. The head of the creature was rough and burnt looking with long teeth and ears. Lower eyelids drooping dangerously low and eyes like blue fire, melting through the souls of the damned.
“Hey Belphegor. You want anything?” Gavin asked, taking a bite of his very fermented apple.
“Nah. I just ate. She was-”
“Please don’t.”
“Alright,” they followed Gavin back to his room, “How’s that book going?”
“You know exactly how it’s going asshole. You’re the one keeping me from writing it!”
“I love you too.”
Gavin set the apple on his desk and stared at his computer screen. Belphegor fell unceremoniously onto his bed and all the sheets turned black around them. They sat like this for a while, Gavin typing away at his desk, getting more frustrated, Belphegor leaking laziness into the room. This was the extent of their relationship.
When the underworld saw someone with a promising talent for writing, they would send up some low level demon to fuck with them. Michael Crichton and Neil Gaiman both had demons. Belphegor did not expect to be sent up. They were the blessed archdemon of Sloth! They should be immune from punishment! Lucifer did have a right to be mad though since they ate his cat. They just did not expect this kind of punishment.
Gavin began to slam his fists on the keyboard.
“Maybe you should just kill yourself if it sucks that much?”
Belphegor could only go home if his charge died and he could not be the one to do it.
“Go fuck yourself,” Gavin got up and plopped onto the bed next to the demon, pulling a blanket over himself and falling asleep.
Belphegor touched the tip of his sharp finger to Gavin’s head and let the void of a dreamless sleep take him over. They convinced them self that it was just to extend his writers block but, deep down inside their twisted being, they cared about Gavin. He was fun to be around. Despite all of their attempts, his story was turning out great too. Belphegor found them self looking forward to when Gavin writes again so they can see what happens next. The demon took a seat at the desk, stuffing their tall body into the chair, and began to read. They powered through the newest bits and left editors comments in Gavins style to help him out. If Downstairs ever found out about this there would be Heaven to pay but Belphegor did not care.
After they fixed some spelling errors, they put an extra blanket on the shivering writer and made their exit. Gavin woke the next morning to find a hot cup of coffee in the kitchen and a freshly stocked fridge.
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