Carnivoral

Posted in Fiction, Sci-Fi with tags on August 13, 2009 by GuNNhead

The lumbering beast makes its way down the narrow passage, snarling and drooling. Neon lights line the walls. Vertical yellow and red stripes race by as it moves faster, confused. Entering a clearing, the world seems to calm, but only for a moment. In an instant, strobe lights become the essence of its surroundings. The ground underfoot begins to spin, and all it can hear is laughter. Laughter of all pitches, it cannot discern where exactly it is coming from, as the aural cacophony bombards it from all sides. What manner of creature would be so amused at the mere sight of this large and intimidating Tyrannosaur? Glaring its teeth and releasing a deafening roar, it hears the sounds silence themselves. Feeling more assured of himself, it sends out another terrifying roar into the air, piercing the swirling night sky.

With new confidence upon the shifting ground, the gargantuan struts around the clearing. Colors boil, coil, and roil together; a sense of euphoria fills its subconscious, awakening a new cosmos of stars. History creates a primeval brainstorm of images and ideas; judgement and opinion, premise and prospect. Visions of a concept not yet conceived dance upon its mindwaves, rockets and robots, instruments and inventions. The visions begin to fade, the colors normalize, but the ideas remain. A new form of consciousness is born in the Gorgosaur.

Isn’t it a dream?

It grows accustomed to this new frame, enjoying the change with minimal regret; though, no positive plans to make a singularity permanent. The old ways are so natural, perhaps always the greatest. It does not want to turn this fervor off. The complete switch may be the reasonable choice for one who wants their nights to be full of desperate emotions! However, it thinks. It was born with one way and one way inside only.

It saw what others did, not knowing why itself felt no urge from commencement to correspond in their consumption. Today it chose to create a destiny of its own, defy what it began knowing, and brought up to believe in as a system.
Night fails to make this hunter, killer, irresolute and pitiful. It knows how to avoid this risk! What it had partaken of tonight would not render that the only thing in its existence. It knew of a balance, a balance for need and desire, and of instinct versus assent.

It has become transcended, into the heart and mind of the prey, a noble predator that can not only do what it must. There are no morals in matters such as this, no pity or remorse. This is how it must be, how it was always intended to be. The frivolous choices in the future of enjoyment are merely that, designed to enhance the sentience. It will always imbibe the lifeblood, only now it has reached an awareness of its own, and can luxuriate in that.

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The Key

Posted in Fantasy, Fiction, Sci-Fi, The Key on August 12, 2009 by GuNNhead

The man stealthily jogs down the large corridor with its checker-tiled floor, hair bobbing with every step. He wears a red uniform, adorned with a strikingly large white V upon the chest, ending in a white belt, continuing along his arms, down his sleeves; his pants have two white lines piping down the side of his legs, finding his white boots. Turning a corner into the central hallway, he sees the King and his royal robotic guards exiting into another of the many corridors.
– Not where he’s heading.

The man positions himself against the wall to wait for the King to have fully left from the main hall before continuing on with his agenda. He enters the second corridor on his right, and heads the second door on his left. As with all doors in this castle, it is large and red, looking almost plush and foam-like to the touch, with a white V ending in two white lines, one on the top, and one on the bottom. The man goes to the right side of the door, and as he pushes on it, the side of the door silently slides open, directly forward, with ease. It is then, in this new corridor, that he notices one of the many patrolling robotic guards, embellished with the same red color and large, white V on their chests; the man exits back into the other hall, but cannot reach the door to close it. He takes cover behind a pedestal, readying his pistol blaster from the holster on the high back side of his right hip. The automaton reaches the open door; it pauses in its rounds, analyzing the door with scrutiny. Its singular red-light-eye scans, back and forth, back and forth, without emotion. Taking another second to calculate action, the machine closes the door, and continues on its rounds.

Hesitating, waiting for the time it would take for the robot to have gone, the man opens the door again, seeing the robot turning to the left, out of the hallway and into another. The man makes his way towards the corridor that the guard turned, passing by the corridor, and entering a large circular room with books lining the walls, and large elegant windows that face a courtyard from five stories above, an enchanted forest off in the distance. He then hears the tank-like treads of another patrolling automaton approaching, following the same set path as the last. Knowing he will be caught if he remains another second, he leaps through the window, shattering it. Once outside, the shards pause in mid-air, and quickly reform the pane.

Falling multiple stories, the man lands haphazardly, but surprisingly lightly, as if on a cushion of air: there are different rules at play here. On the stone surface of the garden terrace of the courtyard, he stands, brushing himself off out of habit. He looks around, examining his surroundings; to his right, he notices a beautiful young woman in a sheer peplos sitting at a stone table, reading, and enjoying the fresh air. She stares at him quizzically. He is not from this land.

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Sam Secours, P.I.

Posted in Detective, Fiction, Horror, Sci-Fi on August 11, 2009 by GuNNhead

A shadowed figure walks slowly down the sidewalk of a narrow street. Clouds hang heavy with awaiting rain overhead as he passes by dim street lamps. The trenched man pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his inner breast pocket, and removes the last one. He places it in his mouth, and returns the pack, composing his lapels in one swift movement. Adjusting the brim of his fedora, he casually lights the cigarette, and extinguishes the flame with a quick breath. Sam Secours, private eye. His thoughts meander around his life and he takes in the inky scenery.

This could very well be the foremost important case I’ve ever taken, which is saying a lot, as only a few short years ago, I didn’t deal with this kind of bats in the belfry-cuckoo stuff. I worked normal cases, missing people, mysteries that the police couldn’t be trusted with. It was just like how you’d expect, dames coming in with more money than they knew what to do with, throwing it at me, sending me on wild goose chases. It was ridiculous, but I loved every smoky, drunken second of it, deep down. I was the best in town, I could solve any case, it was almost too easy, I could just see the clues, read people like words out a book. Until, of course, I took a vacation. That vacation changed everything, I took a boat out to sea, and what I found there was not the peace and quiet I wanted, it was another damned case. Monsters had had their doubloons stolen by pirate ghosts, and, well, haphazardly, I solved that case like all my others. Returning back to my office the following week, I’d found that word had spread to all sorts of phantasmagorical beings. It’s been like that ever since.

37 Orchestra Ave., a small and run-down three story building. The man enters through the dilapidated and creaky door. Starting up the murky stairwell, the door falls flat behind him, shattering what remained of the glass. He continues up to the second floor, and enters the second door on the left; same layout as his office building. A fine mist pools across the floor, and around his feet. He inhales the last of the cigarette, and tosses the butt down, snuffing out the smoking remnants with his shoe, twisting. As the smoldering remains die out, a spectral silhouette appears across the room; its haunting voice emanates, echoing throughout the room.

“So, you decided to take the case, eh, Sam?”
“Could I have not?”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“So, what’ve you got for me?”
“Not much, I’m afraid; the details are murky and ill-defined.”
“They always are; shouldn’t have expected more, even when taking a case from you.”
“You have to find out who killed me, and stop them.”

Light shines in from the streets onto the face of the spectral entity: an ethereal Sam Secours; body riddled with bullet holes.

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Vampirosity

Posted in Fiction, Horror, Sci-Fi on August 10, 2009 by GuNNhead

Today sucked.

I had to wake up early, I fuckin’ hate waking up early. The sun is shit, too god damn bright. No, it doesn’t fucking turn me to ash, that shit is fucking retarded. Yeah, I don’t have an affinity for it, I don’t like it, and, honestly, yes, I’d rather be out at night. Normally, I just put on a hood and sunglasses if I have to go out during the day, like, to buy groceries or that every day shit you never think about, run errands, buy videogames, whatever. Point being, life is crap normally, but having a weakness to sun makes undeath a hell of a lot worse.

Yes, I drink blood through my fangs, but I can eat normally: a few, nice, rare steaks are good enough to stop me from killing. Burgers and all that other normal awesome food is fine, but it’s like eating a plum when all you really want is a nice, tall glass of water; all of this, of course, being found through trial and error. I don’t know if there are other vampires besides me and my old friend, because I don’t think we went through the normal procedure that’s seen in all the movies and books. No dude suckled upon my fuckin’ neck, I can tell you that much. Anyways, Zack and I were dickin’ around in an abandoned building one day, and wouldn’t ya know it, we fell into a vat of radioactive bats! So, yeah, I don’t even know if the fruity movie vampires exist or not. If they do, fuck ‘em, because I’ve been like this for years, and those lazy whores never sought me out, and if they did at this point, I’d probably kick them in the fucking neck. Anyway; we went home after falling in the vat, and hoped for the best, but the next day we both woke to realize we’d slept through the day naturally, and our skin was totally pale, and we had retractable fangs. Realizing that this was toootally awesome, we started testing out our powers, flying, breaking brick walls with our hands, seducing random chicks and sucking their blood, killing them, whatever. It was great for years, then we realized that it may be forever, y’know, eternal life. I had no idea how to handle that. For sure workin’ a standard job for 100 or so years, people will start to catch on, birth certificates, etc, news crews will eventually be all “worlds oldest men” on our asses. But, I guess I still have some time to worry about that. Back to me and Zack, totally buds, then we just got sick of each other. I’m sure, over the course of eternity, we’ll see each other again.

One last thing that really pissed me off about today was this annoying vampire hunter dude, guy’s a totally douchebag. Check it out, I’m just going on about my business, and the asshole comes up and shoots garlic at me, whole fuckin’ cloves, then he start spraying me with a water gun, and ended it by trying to stab me with a wooden cross. Supermarket security intervened and banned him for life. Next time I see that fuck-up, I’m going to break his god damned neck. So, in conclusion, that is a general summary of my life and a glance at the anus that is my life after becoming a vampire.

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The Chemical Solution 2: The Problem

Posted in Detective, Fiction, Sci-Fi, The Chemical Solution on August 7, 2009 by GuNNhead

There is a monster on the streets of my city, a mighty creature that attacks all night. It eats the flesh of the citizens I swore to protect. I’ve been tracking it for too long now, examining the bodies, finding broken nails from when this creature tore their abdomens open to feast on the entrails like spaghetti. Most of these people were criminals that I had been following, attempting to find evidence to bring them to justice, months of investigation, wasted for a beast’s meal. Some of these criminals had a chance to fight back, and I had the fortune of finding the long and jagged teeth that had been broken near the gruesome scene. What was most intriguing is that I found multiple Mandibular canines, each approximately four to six inches long, so, either this creature can regenerate lost teeth, or there are many more of these than I can handle alone. The path taken and amount eaten, however, suggests a single creature with a slightly calculated stalking pattern. Most likely these murders are some sort of a warning, a new super-villain out to make a name for themselves.

However, I feel that there is a piece that I am missing of this puzzle: the first two murders were random, and it appears as if it nested with the bodies, feasting on them, but that pattern suddenly changed after two weeks, according to the missing persons reports. It then moved onto small crimes, petty thieves, even those with no criminal records, caught in the act. Moving up the chain, it began to interfere with my mission, cutting off my leads and devouring them with reckless abandon, or an intentional path, or even purposefully to render my task more futile than it already is. Either way, although the primary amount of its victims do not deserve life, murderers and rapists, the vilest sort of scum, this creature’s actions have become more of a nuisance than I can allow. Whatever its motives are, I don’t know for sure, but I intend to find out. All villains must be brought to justice, for there is too much evil in the world, but in my city, I am the only cure for the ills of humanity; I am the courageous Chemical Solution.

The creature’s path has been sloppy, and I have traced it back to what can only be the place where it seeks shelter. This neighborhood is all too familiar; it is where I gained my superhuman abilities, from Dr. Sheldon Steinberg. His wife had cancer, and he had been working on a cure, but she died before he found what he was after. A secret government agency then hired him, finding interesting results with his treatments. They wanted to create powerful soldiers for use overseas. I believe that I was one of the first of the successful tests, spending much time in his private lab, before an explosion at the main compound on base destroyed everything. The agency abandoned the project, leaving me with incredible super-powers, and the Doctor to continue with his former life. Though I’ve not heard from him in years, I still hope for his safety, he was a brilliant man.

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