Parade of the Grotesque - Wendigo

Author’s note:  This is a part of a series Called Parade of the Grotesque which can be viewed in full on my wordpress and https://darkeyedchild.wordpress.com/2015/01/03/parade-of-the-grotesque-conjure/
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The sweet stench of rotten fruit hung in the air that night; smelling of pumpkins and apples, the brisk wind tickled the ears and teased the throat. Full and round and glowing like a great white peach, the moon positioned itself in the sky as if it were a god ready to watch the sublime spectacle of mortality. Autumn leaves crunched under the feet of hurried children donning costumes to imitate their less than natural counterparts. Twisted features, gnarled and contorted, settled upon faces hidden beneath plastic and rubber. A set of teenagers, twins, walked toward a small mansion at the end of the block.

“I think this is it. 713 Meyers Lane. It looks like we’re right on time.” The girl looked at the time on her phone and then looked up at the hordes of people pouring into the double doors of the old brick estate.

The gates were propped open and the circle out front was already packed with cars. Dead vines crawled up the bars of the gate, and around the sides of the house embedding themselves in the cracks between the bricks. Bare boned trees stretched toward the sky like black lightning fractals, their silhouettes inky voids in space-time. As they walked through the gates, the boy remarked the chimeras seated atop the roof.

“This place is already creepy on a normal day. Looks even worse here in the dark on Halloween,” He stared at the snarling beasts before walking up the massive stone steps into the house. Once inside the girl grabbed hold of her brother’s hand.

“You’ll be okay, Sammy. We’re here to have fun, remember?” He asked her as he pulled away his hand. Sammy left her hand hanging in mid air for a moment before pull it back into herself and rubbing her wrist like it hurt.

“I know we’ll be alright, Sid. It’s just, this is the first time we’ve ever been invited to a party in all our three years at that school. I’m a little nervous that the invite is a part of a cruel joke.” Sammy wrung her fingers, anxious of what might happen. Sid stared at her for a moment before tilting his head to the side. She couldn’t see it through the porcelain mask he was wearing over the top half of his face, but she knew his brow was raised.

“Oh don’t look at me like that. It wouldn’t be the first time they did something horrible to someone like us. I just want us to be careful. I won’t hold your hand the whole time, but at least stay in my eye sight. Please, Sid?” Sammy looked at her brother with big eyes and he just couldn’t say no to her.

“Fine. Okay, we’ll stay in sight of each other, but you have to talk to people instead of watching me the whole time. I’ll look out for you and you’ll look out for me, but we still have fun. Deal?” Simon held up his pinky and wriggled it. Sammy smiled and hooked her pinky onto his.

“Deal. Now you go have fun. I’m going to wander for a bit, get used to the place a little.” Sammy pulled her finger away and began walking away from her brother. She could feel the hairs raise on her neck as she walked out alone into the crashing waves of people. Loud music blared from six speakers set up around the room. There seemed to be nowhere to escape the noise. Sammy walked over to the buffet table. Rows of expensive h'or deurves sat next to each other on the table on one end while a huge dispenser of punch sat on the other. In Between the two, clear plastic cups like stemless wine glasses sparkled under the strobing lights. Sammy picked one up and poured herself some of the blood red punch. As she put it to her lips she could smell the stomach twisting scent of alcohol. Tasting it, she noticed it tasted like it had been spiked far more than once. Suddenly she felt a tap on her shoulder. Startled, she whirled around to face the person behind her almost throwing her drink in their face. A girl and a guy stood in front of her smiling.

“Hi, I’m Meg. This is my friend Cas. Don’t I know you from school? Do we have a class together or something?” Sammy looked at the girl giving her a once over. She was tall, but not much taller than Sammy, and a blonde ponytail bobbed behind her head. She was dressed as a dead cheerleader with a tattered, dirtied uniform. Behind her glasses she had smudged dark makeup around her sea green eyes. Meg held her hand out for Sammy to shake.

“Hi, I’m Sammy, uh, Sam. Sam. How do you recognize me through the mask?” Sammy took her hand and gave it a weak shake.

“Sam? As in Samantha? And I think it’s the hair.” The boy, Cas, shook her hand next. His dark curls glistened with fake blood that dripped down his face. He wore a torn and bloody shirt and hoody. A ‘Beware of Bears’ sign was pinned to his chest. A head taller than Sammy, she had to look up to see his face. Dark eyes danced in the strobe lights.

“No. Sam as in Samhain. My parents are a very festive pair.” Sam rubbed the back of her neck intent on not tugging at her frosty white hair.

“Cool name. So, do we have a class together? I swear I remember you.” Meg asked.

“I believe we have world history and calculus together. I usually sit in the back, so you’ve probably only seen me on your way out the door.”

“That’s right! You are in Mr. J’s class. Cas is in there too.”

“I know. I’ve seen you to sitting together before.”

“So, Sam, why haven’t we seen you at any other parties?” Cas asked reaching around her for a drink. His neck was right by her mouth and she could almost feel the blood rushing in his veins and the heat from his skin. Sam’s lips trembled. He smelled like a thick bowl of tomato soup to her. She fought the urge to close her eyes and open her mouth.

“Sam?” Blinking her eyes rapidly, Sam looked at Cas who was looking at her as if to ask was she okay.

“Yeah? Oh, well, this is the first time my brother and I have ever been invited.”

“Brother? You have a brother? Is he as cute as you?” Meg asked quirking her brow.

“I suppose we look alike. We are twins.” Sam blushed under the leather mask outlining her eyes and cheeks. She was beginning to feel hot and faint under all the flashing lights and the heavy aroma that filled the room. In a second she’d be salivating.

“Well, where is he?” Meg asked looking around the room. Sam scanned the room for him and spotted him leaning on the far wall talking to a girl in a neon pink wig and catsuit.

“He’s just there, with that pink girl.” Sam pointed to him.

“Oh, I’ve seen him too. He always sits near the Otherlings though. I always thought he was one.” Cas said. Sam looked up at the ceiling and over towards the door planning her escape. The moment they found out what she was, they would come after the both of them. The heat from her cheeks spread around to her ears and down her neck. A certain tension was building up inside her. She began to see little pinpricks of red dot her vision.

“Wait…are you?” Meg asked. Sam didn’t answer.

“Oh my god, are you?” Meg asked again.

“You totally are! You’re an Otherling.” Meg squealed with delight.

“I don’t think she wants you screaming it out loud. Maybe you should-” Shouting from across the room cut of Cas’s words.

On the other side of the room a tall, thick necked football player was yelling in Sid’s face. Again the red pinpricks dotted ehr vision. The heat that spread down her neck made its way down her arms and around to her chest. IT writhed and pulsated beneath her skin.

“Sidney!” Sam screamed across the room as she weaved through the crowd. Before she could get to him, the football player had two of his friends hold him up while he wailed on him. Sam could hear every sickening crack loud like thunder in her ears. The bodies between her and Sid were too much and she started putting all her strength into moving them. Solid, fleshy wall after wall slammed into her. She made it to the clearing between people where the football players were holding Sid, but before she could do anything a set of arms like thick logs snaked around her waist.

“Not so fast, monster!” The boy spat.

“What kind of monster are you!” The boy beating Sid landed blow after blow and Sid just stood there as he got his face knocked about.

“Sid!” She called out for her brother as she squirmed around in the older boy’s arms trying to reach him. The heat in her body got warmer with every punch that landed. After a minute all she could see where red clouds outlining everyone’s bodies. She could see their veins pulsing in their necks beating in tandem with their hearts. It made her light headed. She collapsed in the boy’s arms and let the burning heat take her body. A feeling like sunshine on a cool day spread over her. Her skin grew slick with sweat and she pulled away from her captor easily. Cringing, she could feel the bones in her back and arms start popping. Cracking like glass in a window, Sam’s bones rearranged themselves inside her. Like a doll, she contorted and changed. Her limbs elongated and her teeth sharpened. Eyes like the darkest coal stared out from her now gaunt face. Her emaciated figure stood tall in the middle of the room. Everyone in the room had stopped to watch her transform.

“Let him go!” She screeched, her voice muffled by the rows of jagged teeth in her mouth. The  boys holding Sid up dropped him and the boy who was hitting him backed into the wall. Seeing nothing, but blood vessels, Sam dove towards the boy against the wall and tore into his neck. Before the other boys could get away, Sam put her long knife like claws through their backs. They crumpled to the floor instantly. The boy against the wall slid down to the floor holding his neck. Sam resumed eating him engorging herself on his blood.
“Sam! Sam, stop!” She heard her brother’s voice and tried to stop, but her teeth wouldn’t detach themselves from the boy’s neck.

“I said enough!” Sid growled at her. Sam winced and stood up. She looked around at the panicked crowd as they fled. Sirens wailed outside as bright lights shined through the windows. Sam began shifting back. She was all covered in blood; her dress was soaked and her face painted red. Sam and Sid sank to their knees and put their hands behind their heads.

“I’ll be going into the Pit for this one.” Sam lamented.

“No you won’t. You were protecting us. That’s the story. You had no choice.”

“Sid, this is my second strike. I’m going in the Pit for sure. That is if they don’t kill me to set an example.”

“We’ll get out of this.” Sid said.

“We’ll see.” Sam said as the Otherling Special Taskforce filed into the house. Suddenly they were surrounded.

–
Credits to: http://forgedinpolitics.tumblr.com/ and http://darkeyedchild.wordpress.com/

The Wishing Well

Trees. Such vengeful bastards. I looked down at the paper cut on the inside of my finger, and the blood now dripping down it. I sighed and wiped off a nearby bench, no longer interested in the candy bar whose wrapper just mutilated my finger. The bench seat being sanitized, I sat. You never know with these public places. Someone could have just sat down, pissed, and walked away and nobody would be the wiser with all this rain. Cleaning this was worth using the last of my hand sanitizer.

I hate trees. My finger was still bleeding. I grabbed some tissues from my inner jacket pocket and wiped at the blood. I’d have to sanitize it when I get home. If I get home. The trees seem out to get me today. The other benches in the park were empty, all circling the wishing well that serves as the park centerpiece. Some kid was here earlier in the week judging by the well’s new graffiti reading “blood please.”

Aren’t you a badass, I thought. Society says don’t graffiti, stay in school, don’t be a douche bag who probably lives with his mom and thinks he’s a badass because he listens to Meshugga. Society said all of this, and you, Mr. Badass, said no.

Finger’s still bleeding, rain’s still raining, and the trees are still mocking me. I needed to go home, but there wasn’t a waste basket in sight, and I’ll be damned if I just throw this tissue to the ground like Mr. Badass probably would. What’s a guy to do? The wishing well still said “blood please,” so blood I gave it. I stared down the well, and wondered how deep it was. Didn’t matter, because at the bottom was my blood and rain soaked tissue.

Don’t I get a wish? Some hand sanitizer would be nice.

“Hey, Creep!” I see some guy leaning out of their car window, yelling at me. Bleach blonde hair, sunglasses at night, and a Tapout sticker on the door to top it off. Another badass. Badass #2.

“Go cut yourself!” he yelled, laughing. Because I wear black. How clever. Didn’t see that one coming at all. All sarcasm aside, what I didn’t see coming was a bottle lobbed at my face as Badass #2 sped off.

Hand sanitizer. Oh, the irony. And pain. My nose took most of the blow and began to bleed. Badass #2 was nowhere to be seen, and Badass #1’s graffiti seemed to be taunting me. “Blood please.” As I couldn’t get any blood on my jacket and I was out of tissues, I leaned over the edge of the well.

My blood dripped into the well. I had such a headache. I’d like some ibuprofen, but another bottle in the face probably wouldn’t help the throbbing. I just hoped Badass #2 got what was coming to him. My head was ringing. Lights and bells were going off inside my head. I rested at the park, my face dangling over the well, until the bleeding stopped and my head simmered down. Then I went home.

—

I don’t give enough to the relationship, she said as soon as I arrived. I’m never home. I don’t try hard enough. I don’t make enough money. In short, we’re broke, bitter, and butt-fucked by society, and it’s all my fault. Cereal for dinner. I’m sleeping on the couch again. The same thing it’s been every day for as long as I care to remember.

After sanitizing everything that I need to sanitize, I turn on the TV I saved from the building dumpster. I watch the news every day, not because I enjoy hearing about religious wars, gas prices, and Kim Kardashian, but because it’s the only channel I get. The first thing I saw was that damn wishing well. It was in the background of the current scene, but I was offended and irritated nonetheless. I tried ignoring it by paying attention to the headline, when it hit me.

There was a crash by the park. A bad one. Fatal, even. I recognized the Tapout sticker.

I ran to the bathroom, checked the state of the toilet bowl. Not clean enough. I looked around desperately. I felt like I was going to die, and I needed something fast. The sink was clean enough. I’m pathetic, I can’t even throw up in a clean toilet, it must be sanitized. My OCD was getting a little out of hand. I ran to the sink and my stomach and mind finally made a compromise and let me let go. It was disgusting.

The accident had to be a coincidence. I didn’t kill that guy. I mean, he obviously wasn’t the world’s most outstanding citizen, but he didn’t deserve that. I threw up some more. I didn’t even know his name. It was really disgusting.

She barged in, demanding to know what I was doing. I was probably drinking our money away, because I’m such a waste of a person. I ignored her. I’ve gotten good at that. We’re only together any more to cut our living expenses, the finances have gotten that bad. This puke was unbearably disgusting.

Once she left, I thought back to the well. The sanitizer and the accident didn’t prove anything, but I can’t even leave the house without checking the lock three times. I’ll check the well one more time. That would make three. Three is a good number. It was only that thought that helped me get to sleep that night, long after the sink had been cleaned and sanitized again. It was no longer disgusting.

—

I’m not sure where to get the blood I needed. I didn’t think this far ahead. I stood at the park for a while, but the graffiti seemed to taunt me, knowing that if this thing is for real, then there’s plenty of blood on my hands. Badass #1 had added on to it so it now read;

“More blood please.”

I’d love to say no and forget this, but my conscience won’t let me. More importantly, my OCD won’t let me. Three is a good number.

I didn’t realize I was chewing on the right side of my cheek until I tasted blood. I was excited until the pain registered. I had to start chewing on the left of my cheek to keep things even, then I needed to find something to catch the blood in. Spitting in the well didn’t seem all that appealing, but I didn’t have any other options. I spat.

Most of it got in the well, but as I feared a good bit of it dripped down my chin, and I was running out of tissues. I had some and wiped my face. I then used some sanitizer on my chin. I would clean it more when I got home, but we had more pressing matters. I needed to make a wish. Was there a time limit? That wasn’t the test. The test was whether it worked or not, and yet I kept acting as though I knew it worked for a fact. What should I wish for? What do normal people wish for? I panicked.

That’s when I saw him. Obviously homeless, and obviously unsanitary, an elderly man was watching me from behind a tree. Disgusting. He started to approach me, leaving the safety of his unsanitary tree. He’s probably going to ask me for money or food, as if I have much more than him. I closed my eyes and wished he’d stop. Dear God, don’t let it touch me.

It sounded like someone letting the air out of a balloon. I opened my eyes, and the man had stopped five feet away from me with one arm outstretched, ready to touch me. Then he made the noise again. Then he fell over. Dead.

I did it again. I stared in disbelief, shook myself out of it, and I went home.

—

I couldn’t sleep. I stopped going to work. It wasn’t guilt that stopped me from going about my usual routine, but I don’t know what it was. I sanitized things until I couldn’t afford the sanitizer. I didn’t eat much, but when I did it was always three of something. Always three.

Nothing on the news about the bum in the park. Welcome to the suburban life, one badass, or Badass #2 to be specific, dies and the world cries over the loss of youth. Youth that throws hand sanitizer at pedestrians. Homeless people, though? Don’t care. Back to Kim Kardashian.

“Are you ever going to get off of your ass? You’re useless. I can’t believe you broke your fucking OCD just to ruin your work schedule. That was the only damn thing your OCD was good for.” That was last night. I’ve been out of it for a month. She was getting angrier as time went by, and I don’t know why she didn’t kick me out. Maybe she still had hope for me, or other feelings for me. I can’t tell. I wasn’t feeling anything any more.
Those words echoed as I tried to sleep. I was sleeping in the bed again. She’s quite confusing at times. Needs to be more structured and organized. “That was the only damn thing your OCD was good for.”

My OCD. The badass and the bum.

Three is a good number. A very good number.

I suddenly leaned over and shook her awake. I told her to get ready for a walk. She was confused. That was okay.

We walked to the park. She asked if I was going to tell her why I’ve been acting so weird. I said maybe. I don’t know why she’s stayed with me for so long. I really don’t.

Badass #1 was on a roll. The graffiti now said “Just a little more blood please.” I hope his mom doesn’t know what he does, and that she thinks he’s an outstanding citizen. I hope Badass #1 loves his mother, even if he doesn’t admit it.

I stood next to the well, and she stood next to me. We used to be in love, even with my problems. We used to stand really close like this in the middle of the night every night. There were a lot of things we used to do. She tried to break the silence and suggested we make a wish.

“I wish that you’ll forgive me for this,” I said.

Just a little more blood please.

Oh, I gave it plenty.

I don’t know if my wish came true or not, but I do know that I’m better now. I sleep. I work. I got a nice job. I don’t worry about money now. I still keep things in threes. I still walk pass the well at times. Someone cleaned the old graffiti and replaced it with “Thank you.” I really don’t think it was Badass #1. I don’t think there was ever a Badass #1. There was a Badass #2, though. And a bum. And then there was her. And I do know that three is a good number. It is a very good number.

—
Credits to: KMilliron

Creepiest Experiences

WORST VACATION by reddit user spectre_alabama

I was on vacation in Ithaca with my boyfriend at the time. We had literally, I’m talking 10 minutes, just gotten into town and stopped at a suspension bridge near Cornell’s campus. I’m terrified of heights and, so, my boyfriend was coaxing me step by step over the bridge. It was gorgeous and we stopped at the middle to take a picture. On the side we had come from there was a parking lot with steps leading to the bottom of the gorge but on the far side there were hiking paths with no barrier. 

A woman walked past us and offered to take a picture for us. We declined and she smiled and walked quickly to the far side of the bridge where she smoothly jumped off into the gorge. There was not a second of hesitation, it was almost like she expected the path to keep going. The sound of a person hitting the ground from a jump like that sticks with you.

****

MESSAGES FROM THE RADIO by reddit user bigsol81

I was playing around with a radio once when I was a kid, just slowly spanning through the static trying to find a station. I had found an old television antenna, attached it to the side of our house and ran a wire out my window to it with an alligator clip attached to the radio antenna, allowing me to get a way broader range of signals.

So I’m sitting there, early in the morning (like 2am), slowly sweeping frequencies, and suddenly I get to this station that’s playing this very weird crackling sound. It sounded sort of like cracking knuckles, or maybe Rice Crispies cereal, but with a fixed, rhythmic pattern instead of being random. I sat there listening to it for a second, then it suddenly stopped and this faint voice says “It doesn’t work. We’re already dead. We’re already dead.”

It took a second for the weight of the words to hit me, but when they did I freaked the fuck out and almost threw the radio across the room. 

****

AN UPSETTING DEATH by reddit user DeeJayLiz

My parents bought their first house back in 1972. It was a fixer-upper, but they decided to move in right away and fix things as time/money permitted.

Within a few days of moving in, the new neighbors came over to introduce themselves. They also let my parents know that the previous owners had moved out after a nasty divorce. They had lost their second baby from SIDS, and their relationship went downhill from there.

My parents were horrified, more so because they were newly pregnant and couldn’t imagine going through such a thing.

They eventually pretty much forgot all about it. Life went on. They were in love with their new life and their new house.

In preparation for the baby, they decided to wallpaper the nursery. Now, my Dad told my mom there was no need in wallpapering the inside of the closet, but she insisted. She was kneeling down, scraping off old paint inside of the closet when her eyes fell upon something that made her blood turn to ice.

Written in crayon, at about eye level for a kindergardner, in childish scrawl was: I KILLED THE BABY

****

SWAYING SHOES by reddit user SkippersLost

My wife and I used to live in a townhome that backed to some woods. We both took off work one day to get some things done in the yard, cutting the grass, weeding our large flower beds, laying mulch etc.

Our yard wasn’t big; it took about two full grass clipping bags. I would walk a couple of feet into the woods and dump them in a pile.

As I’m walking back to empty the second bag, something in the middle of the woods catches my eye. Something out of place and it’s moving.

I crouched down to get a better look and I just froze. At first, I could make out a pair of shoes just swaying back and forth and then was able to see the legs and body of a teenager. There in the middle of the woods was a teenage boy who had hung himself. Next to the tree, I could see a skateboard leaning up against it.

I yelled for my wife to call the police and started running back to try and save him but he was gone. His body was limp and his head was was just slumped over. His dark scruffy hair was slowly blowing in the breeze.

The cops came and quickly cut him down and they were gone.

****

THINK ABOUT THE CHILDREN by reddit user Viridis_Coy

I used to work in a trailer park for my parents. Quite often, people would start using methamphetamine, begin to fall behind on rent and get evicted. Whenever we evicted someone their trailer was usually too torn to shit to actually do anything useful with it. Essentially, to prevent having a pile o’ shit trailer in the middle of the park, we’d buy it from them and just tear it down.

Anyway, the the scary/creepy part. Many of these occupants had children. More than half of all of the children’s rooms I found had locks on the doors, from the outside. Inside the children’s rooms, it was always quite evident that the kids would sometimes be locked inside for days at a time, due to the “bathroom” corners that would sometimes appear. The doors on the insides of the rooms typically had scratch marks along the edge of the door and the door frame.

Getting rid of all of the stuff inside before beginning demolition always frightened me. I was always afraid that I’d end up finding a dead child somewhere among the filth. It never happened, but the odds of it potentially happening were, in my opinion, quite high.

****

A CAR RIDE THROUGH THE WOODS by reddit user Newbs280

There is a thread somewhere that described a guy taking a scenic route in the middle of the night to get to a certain town. He was driving up a hill, and came upon a car accident with two cars on the side of the road and a person lying down on the ground. For some reason he caught a bad vibe from it, and slowly drove past the scene. He stopped about 100 feet past it, looked behind him, and the person on the ground was standing up and staring at him, with about 20 other people coming out of the woods.

****

WAKING UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT by reddit user CrackheadSally

When I was 7, I woke up in the middle of the night with an earache. I decided to tell my mom and step dad and walked out of my room. Someone was sitting on the chair in the living room (about 3 feet away from my bedroom door). The person looked strange (the face was just kind of distorted) but it was dark and I couldn’t see well. “Mom?” I asked. The person shook their head, and I started getting scared. “Mike?”. The person shook their head again. I decided the best course of option was to go back to bed so I wouldn’t have to walk past this…person. I climbed in bed, and closed my eyes for a second, before opening them and seeing the person standing in my doorway, smiling madly and nodding furiously.

I screamed at the top of my lungs and closed my eyes. My step dad came running out of his room in his underwear with a baseball bat (that was a scary sight in itself). There was nothing there, but clothes my mom had folded and put on the chair where strewn about the living room. For the longest time I told myself it was my cat, sitting on the clothes.

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CLOSER TO DEATH by reddit user AllTheCheesecake

My dad died of cancer the day I turned 16 after about two weeks in a coma. It was really fast - less than two months between diagnosis and death. He died in the house. (we had a hospice attendant and my mom was very good about seeing to him in those final days).

Anyway, a lot of weird shit happened after he passed, but the one that still freaks me out when I think about it happened about 12 hours before he took to bed for the last time. He was in our living room napping on the couch while my mom was in the kitchen cooking. No one else was home.

Suddenly, he jerked awake and was shouting for my mom in a very loud, agitated voice. Clearly angry with her. “Beverly! Don’t do that! Don’t EVER do that again!”

She ran into the room, alarmed and asked what he was talking about, and he said, “Don’t do that. Don’t walk past me like that in that long, black wig.”

Sometimes I think he saw death.

****

FOOTPRINTS by reddit user madeanotheraccount

Hell, I lived in a house once that had child sized footprints on the ceiling of one of the bedrooms. Extremely high ceilings. I could think of no way someone would get a child’s feet up there. Not even climbing up a ladder and holding a kid upside down could’ve done it.

--

The full thread is here

Look Daddy

The gun shot shattered the air, like a crack of lightning so close you can feel the hairs on your arm stand on end. Waves of sound rippled outward as if throwing a rock into the placid surface of a lake and fire flashed its chaotic face as the projectile exited its womb.

It moved slowly, purposefully and time itself had slowed as if to admire the eruption. It tore through every intricate and minute particle that was suspended in the pathway. All I could do was stand there and watch in horror as the slow-motion scene unfolded.

The bullet pierced its unintentional mark and forced its way into the flesh of the unsuspecting when I saw the surprised and confused but deliberate look of pain. Her face contorted and started to push forward with the driving momentum of force from the metal intruder as it tore through bone and sinew.

Her eyes briefly met mine, the glimpse of terror and impending death was abruptly interrupted by the outward explosion of her face. Crimson blood and gray chunks of brain matter burst from the gaping orifice that was, just milliseconds ago, a smiling countenance.

Her body collapsed to the floor in a heap, the vital fluid of life gushing from the hole that was left behind. I screamed as time resumed its normal flow and I ran over to the body that was now sputtering and gurgling for breath. Tears hot on my face as I tried to comprehend what just happened.

I looked at my son, my little boy holding the mechanism of my demise as my wife spasmed the last of her life away. “Look Daddy!” he giggled as the barrel leveled on my own guilt-stricken face…

—
Credits to: NobleCeltic