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World War Z

GS2 Chapter 24 ‘Kinda outta luck’

Hey ho fellow humanoids,

This sadly will be the only blog for this week because my day job is about to get especially hectic over the following week and I’ll have absolutely zero time to work on that or anything else for that matter. I just have time today to do a little proofreading, maybe some spamming then hi ho hi ho it’s off to work I go.

What have I been up to, none other than revisiting everyone’s favourite (and only) clown samurai; Pookie Pookerson (not cannon last name).

Yep so I started the next part of three ring like ‘how do I do this again? What’s the backstory?’ haha and weirdly it went pretty well, I mean I’m not churning it out but what I put out was pretty good I thought. I kinda wanted it to be like an anime that skirts a fine line between serious and comedy. So you have this completely ridiculous world full of ridiculous people but the humour comes from them all taking it really seriously until they don’t.

So I think the opening I did for the second part captured that pretty well, had some wry humor but mostly kept it straight and focused on the action and the story… of which there is one haha. I have some idea where I want to go with it but I’m not taking it too seriously, I’m just trying to have fun with it and work on it as a break that’s not a break haha. Because I can’t actually stop writing, I can just take it less seriously haha.

The next few days are gonna suck for multiple reasons but maybe I’ll get some reading done in between unspeakable horror. Might finish that Parker novel which is shaping up to be really good. It kind of has a weird structure because its sort of gone off on a tangent but has such good tension that it doesn’t matter that it’s not directly attached to the job. He’s basically had his cake and eaten it here because you have the autistic planning and setup phase interspersed with this tense action set piece which is also drawn out really well. And all the characters are great and Parker feels like Parker again when he kind of felt like Joe blow in the last couple of books. 

But this book makes me happy because I started to feel after the witcher and these last two Parker books that I was falling out of love with reading as a result of playing too many video games and watching too many films. But it’s not the case I’m as eager as before to really get into this book. Not as much as I was when reading Dexter but that’s Dexter for you haha.

Now that I mention the witcher I heard rumours that ciri is supposed to be black in the netflix show. And I could have maybe seen how Geralt the white wolf could have been black maybe because his origins are sort of a mystery so you can just rewrite and say he came from Kovir. Same could be done with Dandelion because they don’t really have firm backstories in the books or the games. But Ciri has a really firm backstory which is tied directly to the plot.

For Ciri to be black literally all of Cintra of which she’s the princess of has to be wakanda haha. The entire royal line would have to be black, the elves too because she’s the spawn of the elder blood. She has elven blood running through her veins. So the elves have to be black too. I mean maybe she could be mullatto because her father is sort of this cursed outcast who had to basically trick Queen Calanthe into marrying her daughter Princess Pavetta. Which Geralt helped him to do in exchange for the right of surprise on Ciri. So you could just make her father from Kovir I guess but that adds another layer of politics to an already politics heavy story and not to mention Kovir I don’t think is even in the books.

Essentially I think this show is going to be a glorious trainwreck too concerned with diversity quotas and virtue signalling to actually tell a decent compelling story, it’s the type of shit we see everyday. This isn’t new, so it’s probably going to flop, I mean you’ve alienated the majority of the fanbase even saying you’re basing it off the books because the people that play the games have no idea how shit the books are in comparison haha. So they’ll watch the first episode and be like “What is this shit?” and they’ll turn it off haha. Add to that the new wakanda plotline and you’re making a show for like three people two of which are in the writing staff haha.

I just think this is really funny. It just sounds like it’s going to be a colossal disaster and I’m just getting my popcorn ready, while also eagerly awaited CD projeckt red to wow us Cyberpunk which looks amazing. I can’t wait for that, still not going to preorder haha. Unless they make me an offer I can’t refuse haha. Some people are still shitting on it saying it looks like shitty Deus ex and I don’t know what they’re talking about it, I think it looks like the complete fucking opposite. It looks like Deus ex with some balls and real grit and a living huge world not a tiny sandbox to mess about in, but a gta sized world with cars and people.

What I hope is it finds a balance between deus ex with it’s well crafted little sandboxes and gta’s huge open world because there are trade offs to both. With deus ex you get less room to play and explore and no vehicles but every set piece is hand crafted and every room feels kind of lived in and real. Whereas in gta it’s sort of lots of nothing in some cases. It’s bigger and has more vehicles but you can’t actually explore all the buildings or what not, so there are trade offs. 
The bar I’m setting for Cyberpunk is a middle ground between these two. Because I love Deus ex but I always felt like it was holding back, not giving me enough, sort of just giving me bite size chunks of this world to sell me the rest as dlc. Whereas in gta you almost get too much and it deters replay value. And once upon a time we had a perfect blend of both. 
We once had games that were full satisfying experiences that weren’t just dlc/sequel bait but also left you wanting to play them again to experience things you might’ve missed.

It’s the kind of oldschool mentality and feel you only get from these eastern european developers like cd projekt and warhorse because their ethos is stuck in the 90’s but their tech is modern. They have passion and grit and love of their games without trying to squeeze every cent out of them or push some political narrative. They’re at this perfect stage where they’re big enough to make triple a titles that rival the big boys but small enough to not have focus groups or investors breathing down their necks and imposing their will on the games like we’re seeing from EA and Besthesda. Two companies that were once heroes now living long enough to become villains. Due alone to their business practices and their churning out of these lazy subpar games used to push lazy political narratives.
But that’s just the way it is I guess. I mean if multi-billion dollar companies can’t bring out a decent series of star wars movies then what hope does netflix and videogame companies have?

Anyway that’s enough ranting for today, gone on way too long already. Gonna see if I can’t get some proofreading in before I crash, got a big week of constant sorrow ahead of me haha. But that come down is sweet, on sunday I promise to do little more than feed myself and I might not even do that haha. Might be too lazy and just learn to photosynthesize haha.

Legit running out of content now haha. Green Sunday is almost done, Gage is toast, gotta get cranking out those Proofs on Cur and write some more samurai clown goodness haha.

See you..

–

“ADAM WAIT!” A ghostly voice cried out.

A deathly pause, a black echo, the sound of shaking metal and a robotic response; “That name.”

TJ opened his eyes slowly, the metal foot hovering an inch in front of his face about to curb stomp him against the ice. The foot was stopped, frozen with hesitation. The Lancer paused, he shook his head and pretended he didn’t hear it. A mistake, a ghost in the machine and pressed his foot against TJ’s skull pinning it to the ice. Put pressure on it a pound at a time of crushing pressure.

“ADAM STOP!” A shrill voice cried.

The Lancer stopped again and took the pressure off. The hair on the back of his neck raised like he was a kid caught playing with his mothers high heels. He breathed in and out but didn’t turn his head. He shook his head again and put his foot back.

TJ closed his eyes. The cold metal foot was still stopped and all he could hear was the drone of the furry horde. The Lancer’s foot came completely off TJ’s head and he stumbled backwards weighed down by something. White tentacles wrapped around his throat and his legs and his arms and his waist. More and more latching on until he was almost covered in these white appendages.

TJ rolled onto his back and he rubbed his eyes trying to focus on the ghostly arms that had hold of the chrome knight.

‘Arm…s’ plural, the Lancer was locked down by a series of thin naked white arms.

A straight jacket of porcelain flesh constricting around all his joints stopping him like quicksand. His movements grinding to a halt as more and more arms began to wrap around him.

“What the fuck?” TJ whispered.

–

Carpenter looked down at the sea of furry faces. All cheery and colourful and hungry for flesh and probably the juice inside eyeballs. He lost his balance for a second wobbling the plank. He darted his head back and kept his cutlass high locking eyes with the Frenchman who was still and silent.

“Are you ready?” The Frenchman said. His voice ringing with a gleeful tone of completion. Of fate reaches out a warm hand and patting him on the small of his back.

Carpenter said nothing. He smiled broadly and started to rock back and forth and then bounce slightly up and down like he was a on a trampoline. Getting deeper into the bounce each time.

The Frenchman lost some composure as he felt the board shaking. Heard it creaking and groaning, wood fibres splitting and giving way. “What are you doing?” He shrieked as he could feel it giving way.

Carpenter fed on his fear, his smile growing wider. His lips parting showing those sharp teeth and he said; “Whatever it takes.”

–

Read the full chapter on inkitt by following this link kinda outta luck.

0

GS2 Chapter 23 ‘A tooth for an eye’

Yo yo yo fine folks of the interwebs!

Been a fairly interesting week, namely because I completed the first and pivotal stage in my epic fantasy saga. That’s right book one is done and with some fanfare. Just going over it now with a fine tooth comb, proofreading, making some changes as I usually do. Came in just over 50k. It would have been longer but I took out some filler I thought just slowed down the narrative. I mean it was just filler, you don’t need filler haha.

It turned out pretty interesting, solved some of the problems I had in my head, I think I wrapped things up in a nice way that makes the ending seem final but also have a lot of things left up in the air. It has a satisfying conclusion but not satisfying enough to feel like it’s all over. Because it’s sure as shit not, I have four more books already planned out haha.

So starting friday I guess it’s back to clownworld for me haha. Gonna start up where I left off of three ring until I work up the nerve to start Diana two, so that should be a lot of fun. Be a nice break from all the gore and seriousness, actually probably not from the gore haha. What am I saying? Definitely not from the gore haha.

On an even better note the new Parker book seems to be a total return to form tossing out the quick easy action and small frame of the last two books and returning to the autistic planning and arguing I love haha. Almost to a level that seemed impossible haha. I love the scope of this book because he already turns down like two jobs and he’s working on the third now and it’s great. On top of that there’s his fight with this elusive enemy who he let go before so it’s got some nice layers and all the planning and build up and characters are really satisfying. We just have to see if the action and heist side can live up to that now and seal the whole thing. Because you can’t have all this build up without some pay off and I’m really looking forward to see how it develops along both lines.

I just love how grounded this one is with how he’s hopping from job to job, like some kind of criminal goldie locks; “Oops some asshole from my past loused this one up and shot someone, oh now this job is full of unreliable emotionally unstable people, ah this one seems just right, now down to haggling” I really like it so far.

Also in recent news I watch oceans 8 that sequel to a movie franchise no one asked for and surprisingly enough I thought it was ok. I think it’s just because I thought it was going to be as terrible as the ghostbusters remake but with loads more identity politics as I’m well aware of the politics of the people involved. But it was actually fairly competent at sticking to the style and structure of the previous films so it was alright. Not amazing, but I was never a fan of the George Clooney ones really. They’re sort of just popcorn movies on you put on in the background, they’re like the type of movies that make dumb people feel smart.

And this movie doesn’t really bring anything new to the table or elevate the others really so no wonder it did so poorly but I thought it was watchable. No review necessary as I had no strong feelings for it either way really.

As far as the witcher books are concerned they’ve sort of just become background noise to me, I just cant be bothered with them.

Well that’s that, more zombie nonsense for you haha. I can’t believe how long this book is haha. When I’m using actual mythology I can only do around 50k but when I’m pulling zombie nonsense out of my ass and anime it just never ends haha.

Anyway gotta do something more constructive today. Gotta proofread Cur so I can send it off to my editor when she finishes up Diana, which she very nearly is.

Cheery bye.

See you…

–

A deathly silence filled the mall. Drowning out even the din of the hordes of furries banging sofly on the glass of the icerink. The sporadic bursts of gunfire from the mercs.

Carpenter and the French assassin hired to kill him locked swords again but stopped for a moment. Frozen like the skeleton crew on whose ship they were stowaways. It was as if they’d both realised they were interrupting some pantomime on a stage. An audience of people watching them in stunned silence.

They both felt naked and out of place for a second.

Carpenter looked over at the icerink. The Frenchman who’s eyes were still sealed blood opened one corner of an eye to look over to see what he was looking at.

Carpenter let out a sad laugh and a sadder smirk and said “I guess there goes the star of the show”.

–

Evergreen watched in silence, his face wooden but lined like an armrest on an old bench.

“Sir, we need to go”

“Wait.”

“The shows over” Rigby said.

He sighed in agreement and squeezed the hand rail on the second floor balcony. Then released it and turned to walk over to Rigby. “You’re right”.

“YOU WILL DIE BY THE TIP OF MY SWORD THIS DAY!!!!”

“What the fuck?” Evergreen mouthed.

–

TJ drew his sword slow, the cold made it stick but it didn’t matter. Soon it would be warm with blood and it would rust and then it would never go back in the sheathe ever again.

His face was a mask of cold angry tears. A well of loss and desolation poured from the deepest pit of his self loathing. Filling every inch of his body with tremulous rage.

He felt light but strong, like he was vibrating, like every cell was awake and a sleep at the same time. Existing in the spaces between this world and the next. Ready for death and for life and for everything in between.

The sword glistened over his head, his eyes closed, his feet rooted in the ice. He looked like a statue. Like a weathervain, like the world would freeze over and he’d still be standing there just like that. Waiting for lightning to strike him and the ragnarok to begin.

“I’m gonna cut off your arm.” He said calmly like he wasn’t even in the room like he was talking to someone on the phone. He readied his sword in front of him and took a mountainlike stance. Were those his words, or someone else’s, did it matter?

The eviscergrator shrieked like a ghoul and started it’s blades whirring again. Those pumps and shafts and pistons firing building up heat. He was drenched in her, there was nothing left, nothing recognisable. She was in a thousand pieces, never to be put back together again.

He sniffed and closed his eyes and listened, darkness, whirring. The smell of coppery blood on steel.

“Are you ready?”

–

Read the rest of the chapter by clicking on this link and heading over to inkitt. A tooth for an eye

0

GS2 Chaper 21 ‘Some girls are bigger than others’

Hey there,

Not much to say today, mostly been working and being boring haha. Not much writing or wackiness happening right and I haven’t really had time to be bored by the witcher. I watched avengers infinity war yesterday and it was ok I guess. I have no strong feelings about it.

Getting to the end of this Parker book, it’s pretty short but I’m taking my time haha. I dunno I’m not rushing to finish it, as I said before it’s just sort of smaller with less in depth characters than the other books so I’m not like dying to read the next chapters like I usually am. 
It’s pathetic, I look forward to bus journeys and waiting for stuff just so I can read but this one is just a little meh. It’s just not as big in scope, it’s all set in one place and although its an interesting place it just sort of kills the pacing. I kinda thought this one would be like home alone but really bloody but it sort of let me down. His traps were kind of short lived and didn’t do much.

I was hoping the story would actually follow the main villain who I thought Stark had built up quite well and then you’d get to experience the fear of running into Parker’s traps from his perspective a little like the fourth book and how terrified the villain in that book is of Parker *spoilers* so much so he chews a cyanide capsule just seeing his face again.

But they killed off that cool villain character like in the first encounter and then bring in this sort of generic mob boss character who hasn’t been built up at all really and he’s not really doing anything except riding around in a golf cart barking orders at people. I mean yeah it’s realistic that he got killed just by fate but it’s just so anti-climactic because I’d actually grown to like that guy and I wanted to see him and Parker go at in the ring of intelligence and to have him go down at the first hurdle made all that time spent with him seem pointless.

I mean it’s sort of that divide you get between subverted expectations and actually being good. I don’t care if a story is predictable as long as it’s good. I don’t care if my expectations are subverted if I’m disappointed. It’s like last jedi all over again, they spent too much time trying to subvert expectations and do something unexpected than they did actually crafting a decent narrative that made sense and good characters people could identify with.

It’s not a bad book, it’s just not great. Parker, you’re getting soft my old pal, you need to get back in shape, oh yeah also one of my favourite characters gets arrested right at the start so that sucked. Probably never see him again now.

Anyway enough bitching about that, time is getting away from me and it’s too damn hot today, need to attempt some real work today and maybe some spamming since I’m back on facebook, but for how long who knows? I seem to have report snowflakes on my friends list who like to flag me and get me banned for saying only the least edgy things haha.

So we’ll see how that goes.

See you… 

–

TJ froze making a stupid face. Trying to flip through ten seconds of footage of his pathetic life flashing before his eyes. Lots of him just sitting in his underpants watching anime and jacking it to anime porn. His mom’s smile, and a man he thought he recognised but couldn’t place. A skinny guy with short dark hair in a buttoned shirt with a pocket protector. ‘Who is that guy?’ He said to himself as he stood dumbstruck. Staring into the those glowing spider eyes rolling towards him through the threshing blades.

“TJ!” A faraway voice called out to him and he turned in a dreamy haze before getting knocked hard on his ass. The eyes following him in slow motion as the buzzing of blades moved like a cloud of wasps shredding up the top ice as they passed.

Sunday knocked TJ out of the way. She pushed her bat out in front of her. The force of the movement of this thing wrenching it twisting out of her hands and sending it into the air. It landed with a thudding clink. Lodging a heavy circular saw blade into the ice like it was put there by the lady in the lake herself.

The rolled to a stop and started to come together. A picture was forming as the rounded gauging blades slowed, white hot. Cooling and steaming on the ice. The frame of the thing heaving with unnatural laboured breathing. Which moved mechanically like bellows making a harsh wheezing noise.

It was big, atleast seven foot tall but hunched like it was on all fours. Twelve foot long with a whipping barbed metallic tail. No backlegs, just the tail and the front pronged metallic claws like a birds. It’s head was a squat thing with no neck, some kind of helmet covered in sharp barbed spikes. The entire length of it’s body was covered in these holes with gauged rounded blades like a “Fucking cheesegrater cyborg?” TJ said as he peeled himself over his fat gut to get a good look at that thing. “Seriously?!” He spat as he got to his knee.

–

For the rest of the chapter head on over to inkitt.

Some girls are bigger than others

0

GS2 Chapter 20 ‘Execute them’

Hello hello hello,

After what seems like a long absence I have returned from my journey feeling sort of refreshed and a little depressed. It’s really draining knowing that every minute that goes by something is taking your further and further away from the people you love the most and you have no choice but to let it take you.

It’s like being in prison but you’re let out once a year for a week if you’re lucky but here I am now in my own private prison writing weird shit and playing too many video games for someone about to be thirty.

Also I might have aspergers which makes a lot of sense and in a lot of ways is a relief because I always knew there was something not quite right about me. I always felt like I was missing an essential piece of the human puzzle. I thought it just related to never knowing my father, for the longest time I was sure I was some type of just straight up psychopath/sociopath who was just too lazy to be a serial killer haha. But this makes a lot more sense.

So I might be going to the doctor but I don’t really want to as I’ve also been self diagnosed with procrastinitus, a severe case and it’s not like my brain is going anywhere.

So what’s new with me? I watched a really interesting bollywood movie on the plane about toilets and then another on the way back not about toilets and I enjoyed them both. I seem to like bollywood movies for some reason, they’re equal parts shock and awe spectacle meets actual entertainment and story. I like them unironically, even a three hour movie about someone trying to help his wife to not poo in a field. I just found it hilarious haha. I think indians have a great sense of humor about themselves and in general and their stories are fun and their romances aren’t too smoltzy, they’re nice and chased and sweet. It’s not all about sex and drugs and weird shit. A part from the pooing in the fields thing.

Didn’t get much writing done though of late, just been trying to reset my sleep schedule back to the polyphasic, so been really tired and it’s still hot as ever here. But I got some done and I did a few haikus on the plane and bus and train.

Today I think I’m going to actually read my excerpt pitch for Diana in the dark like I’ve been saying I’ll do for weeks now, because it’s getting near the time I actually might be pitching it. I’m in line to get some money together for more editing so I can get that done.

Oh yeah and I hate the witcher haha. They should change the name of the books to the ‘waffler’ because that’s all anyone does. Just waffling on about nonsense then the action breezes past and is gone for more waffling about nonsense. None of the characters are likeable and interesting but everyone is fascinated by Geralt because he’s the least boring character in the book. But honestly I don’t see what others see in him. He’s really rather dull, he’s just a wishy washy character too scared of his own shadow or self righteous to really take a position on anything and I feel like he’s a poor stand in for the writer who has just boring normie political views/takes on everything. I really just can’t pay attention to it, it doesn’t grab me at all.

Anyway must dash, work to be done.

Shit I think I’m running out of pictures of green haired chicks haha.

See you..

–

Scraping scratching sound. Grit and the soles of shoes on concrete sidewalks. Kat rose from her face flat position dazed on the ground picking grit out of the indents they’d made in her face. Spitting it out of her mouth. She stumbled forward tripping over her own feet stepping on something soft.

“Ow” A dull voice under her said.

Kat touched her nose and her hand came up with a little bit of blood and she started to well up.

“You’re standing on my hand” Roch screeched looking up at Kat.

“Bitch fuck you, I think my nose is broken!” Kat snapped back as she went through her purse to find a mirror “Had enough of your shi-“.

She was cut off by Roch pulling her feet out from under her. She crumpled to the ground softening her fall with her hands. Flipping over to kick and flail at Roch as she climbed Kat. Hitting her balled fist at any soft target she could find on the way.

By the time she was all the way on top of her they were in a full scale hissy fit. Biting and dull soft angry punches. Hair pulling and scratching and salty language all over the show. Only then interrupted by a screeching groaning sound of metal twisting and bending. They both turned around to find the source of the noise and the quickly growing shadow. As the turned over truck was turned over again right on top of them. Making a popping squelching peanut butter jelly sandwich getting sat on noise. Squeezing out dark red and black blood, spreading underneath the side of the truck.

A light repetitive tinny tapping sound as the small automatic fired inside the truck. punctuated by shotgun blasts punching the sides. A giant monstrous fist tore through the side of the van reaching deep inside. Wrenching the shotgun out of Carpenter’s greasy mitts and snapping it like kindling. Shaking the truck again like a gorilla in a cage made of tinfoil.

Carpenter pulling his head back to avoid it’s gargantuan grip. Coming in within a hairs breadth of his scraggly beard hair. The freakish thing angered by it’s arm length. It started to peel the metal from the side of the truck trying to make the hole bigger.

Jaclyn’s eyes fluttered in her head as consciousness came back. She was lying on her front, the laptop lying on a heap of debris in front of her on the side of the truck which was now the floor.

The screen was flashing and making alert noises like a popup, she crawled towards it. The screen was flashing the words “Launch signal ‘Yes or no’” flashing in red and orange.

Her body felt like a wrung out washcloth, it wasn’t moving right. She strained to pick her weight up onto her elbows and pull herself towards her laptop. She reached out, her breathing laboured, a pain in her side forcing her to collapse onto her face. She spat and breathed out as the stabbing pain robbed her of a breath. Determined, she started to crawl along like a slug using her chin and one arm to propel her along the floor. Her other hand keeping her ribs from shifting, groaning and hissing as she progressed.

With a noticeable effort she pressed enter. The signal launched with a cheesy nineties matrix loading screen.

A video started to play, a fat girl with green hair doing ridiculous dances in front of a webcam. “What the hell is this? This isn’t what we recorded.” It was Juanita twerking and falling over and pulling a dresser onto herself. She stood gasping, then smiled as if she meant to do that.

A bad jump cut later and she was looking into the camera, her face made up like Marilyn Monroe. “I’m Juanita Horker, the new feminist face of Zombie Surivor. I raised a half a million dollars from some beta orbiters on twitter to come here and kill Sunday. And become the new star you deserve, a more inclusive, gender queer plus size zombie killer”.

“Fucking bitc-!“ Her voice became a harsh rasping empty thing. She was interrupted by a tight bursting metal noise. She looked back to see what looked like a silver weathervain sticking out of her back.

A wrenching metal sigh and a slick unplugging as the lance came out of her back. It disappeared through the hole it made in the side of the truck.

The freakish hand of Garylynn retracted suddenly. Carpenter looked over at the Frenchman clicking the now empty mach ten at the wall of the truck panting. Carpenter smiled and signalled with his head.

“Out” The mechanical voice said.

They left the truck feeling like they’d been in there for days. Covering their eyes from the sun, coming out the bus like kids caught playing hookie.

The monstrous thing in front of the truck was just stood there breathing. Seething quietly looking up at the top of the truck.

The Lancer stood above them watching with those smiling eyes. He watched as the Frenchman and Carpenter got out.

“The other one too”

Carpenter let out a breathy laugh and went back into the truck. The silence punctuated by the sound of fumbling and reluctant muffled shouting. Carpenter strained as he lifted the chair Murray was tied to over the stairs. Making a clacking noise as the wheels hit the metal and concrete.

“Can you just untie me?” Murray shouted moving the gag out of his mouth.

“Nah” Carpenter said as he wheeled him out.

“You!” The Lancer pointed at the Frenchman, Carpenter and Murray. They all stopped dead and pointed at their chests like ‘Who me?’

The lancer turned to look away from them and at the opponent he’d picked in their stead. “You can go”.

–

Check out the rest of the chapter here.

Execute them!

0

GS2 Chapter 19 ‘You can be the boss’

Hey there,

Not much to talk about, mostly been dayjobbing it and sinking deeper and deeper into general misery and misfortune, which is standard recently. I just can’t seem to catch a fucking break recently.

Although I watched like two thirds of deep blue sea 2 before me and my brother turned it off and decided an hour was enough time we were never getting back from what is essentially a really bad low budget copy of the first film. Part me almost wants there to be a documentary about this movie just to learn how it came about.
Did they win the rights to the name in a poker game, how did this pile of shit get made and why? I really just want to know how this went down and what drugs they were on when they thought this was a good idea.

I’m not saying the first movie was a masterpiece but it was competent with a good cast and decent writing and visuals and budget, this was like a daytime tv remake. So much so it doesn’t need a review because I wasn’t really paying it any attention after the first ten minutes. The acting was ridiculous porno tier, the story was basically the same as the first movie but dumber, the characters were cookie cutter, the sets looked like they were re purposed from a sci-fi movie. It looked like it was made for the scy-fy channel.

The plot is basically they’re experimenting on the sharks and then the sharks overhear them saying they’re gonna kill them all when the research is done and the go berserk, I know it’s fucking stupid. But what’s even stupider is how this is put across is by the shark like looking through a window like “hmm that’s what they think mwahaha”. So dumb. 
It just amazed me how bad it was and reminded me a lot of those movies like sharknado and sharktopus versus gatoroid or whatever and it was actually worse. Because those movies are fully self aware of how awful they are and they just have as much fun as they can with it.
They’re trash but they’re enjoyable trash, deep blue sea 2 is not self aware or funny at all, it’s just trash and I don’t know why it exists or why I even attempted just reviewing it. I’m just so curious as to how it exists. Mind boggling.

Anywhoo back on schedule with regular chapter posts and I’m amazed how long GS2 is, like why? Why is a zombie book so long? That’s just sad. I put so much effort into a book about zombie furfags haha. What is my life?

Ok well enough of that, gotta do some actual work, kinda shitty here because my boiler dyed so I’m just wallowing in my filth and trading in warframe which is more addictive than the actual game. Love life in the crapper as usual even worse than usual actually and I broke my toe because I was so angry that I couldn’t have a shower that I kicked the banister, genius.

But it’s not the first time I’ve had a broken toe, after years of martial arts my toes look like fucking twiglets they’ve been broken so many times haha.

Eh whatever just gonna spam and maybe do some proof reading, now that I think of it I should probably go over the pitch excerpt for Diana after Dark. I went over the other parts last week and really cleaned it up, I found so many mistakes I thought I might legitimately have undiagnosed down syndrome haha. 

It’s really a good thing nobody follows this blog otherwise I would get a tonne of hate mail haha.

See you…

–

“Turn around, slow”

“Who th-“ Murray was cut off by a shotgun barrel poked hard into the side of his head. “Ow!”

“We ask the questions, you do what you’re fucking told.” Roch said through her teeth. She was feeling it, her adrenaline pumping, blood boiling, she wanted to hurt someone.

“That’s right, girls rule, straight white men, die!” Juanita came around the side of the truck. Trying to not look out of breathe as she lugged the giant anti-tank rifle around. Trying to look comfortable resting it on her shoulder.

“Freeze cracker!” Kat screamed trying to sound like a cop pointing her mach ten at him with both hands clasped tightly around it.

Jaclyn had her laptop in her arm, pointing her gun forward but not really aiming at anything. Concentrating on making her face look as mean and serious as possible.

Roch pulled Murray down the steps of the Van and span him around hard against the side of the truck. “Ow” He said “What’s all this about?”

She hit in him in the back of the knee and got close to his face and whispered “We’re asking the questions asshole”.

He straightened up grimacing and said “So ask away”.

“Jacy do we need this piece of shit?” She shouted. Clammily fingering the short shotgun pressed tightly to the back of Murray’s sweaty neck.

“I just need to access his network so we can broadcast our signal piggybacking off theirs so..”

Roch smiled, her blood rushing in her ears. Murray closed his eyes and swallowed hard and said “Fuck me”.

“But we might need him for verification.” She perked up. “We have no idea how many security protocols they have, they could even have iris or voice recognition.”

Roch poked her head out of her bloodlust stupor, Murray squinted.

“I’m just saying. It’d be better if had him and didn’t need him than blew his brains out. Only to discover he’s the only one that can access the network.”

“Err yeah, that’s exactly right” Murray said.

“Shut up” Roch said giving him another little love tap with the shotgun.

“Just bring him inside and sit him down.” Jac said.

“Who died and made you the boss”.

“Just do it Roch” Jac sighed as she climbed the small set of stairs into the mobile hq. She took a deep inhale of breath as she entered. It was everything she hoped it would be although it smelled more like ass and doritos than she imagined. She sat down at Murray’s console moving his mountain dew bottles to make way for her laptop. She opened it up connecting it to the terminal and started to type in command prompts.

Roch lead Murray. A nasty look on her face as she pushed him up the steps. She sat him at another one of the screens in the van on a chair connected to the floor. The van evidently was intended for an entire team of people watching the cameras, budget cuts.

Juanita felt like a million dollars. She was starting to see herself as some kind comic book hero. Fighting some righteous daydream as she dragged her oversized gun into the truck. Parking herself in a seat next to Murray with the gun by her side. Panting and sweating profusely she said “Who’s this guy?”

“He’s their tech guy, monitors all the cameras” Jac said with her back turned typing at her laptop.

“How didn’t he see us coming?” She wheezed.

“He’s just one guy.” She shrugged looking over at the sad sack that was Murray. “There’s no way he could have known we had the kind of tech to ping his signal or the man power to take down his guard team.” She scrunched her face like she almost felt sorry for him. “Plus I’ve been patching into their drone traffic. There’s activity happening all over town, there’s not enough eyes on the ground to keep track of it all.”

“So what now?” Juanita huffed.

“Roch would you mind tying him up and then just guarding the door with Kat? We need someone to keep an eye out.” Jac said with an air of aloof superiority.

“Sure thing” Roch sneered and flounced out slamming the door behind her.

“What the hell your cracker as-“ Kat was cut off by a neat balled up fist tapping her on the nose and knocking her onto her ass. The french man picking and palming the mach ten out of her hand as she fell.

“I’m very sorry.” He said as he looked at her on the floor dazed.

As soon as Roch came out of the truck she was too pissed off to notice the smell of the crazy homeless guy. Which waiting for her at the side of the steps with his back flat against the truck wall.

“Hi” He said cherrily as he snaked a hand onto the barrel of the shotgun. Wrestling control of it away from her and tapping her on the nose with the top of the barrel. She folded like a cheap pic nick table at a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

The Frenchman gripped the mac ten in his hand looking over at Carpenter. Gauging distance and spread.

Carpenter clocked him looking and gave him a cheeky little wink as he cocked the shotgun. Liking his chances.

The Frenchman seethed and slackened his grip on the gun.

“After you, my friend” The Frenchman said.

“I don’t mind if I do.” He smirked.

–

Read the rest of the chapter here.

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GS2 Chapter 18 ‘Pretty girls make graves’

Good day fine people what is up it’s your boi NAME REDACTED.

Ok so a break up to the usual form just from pure saltiness really. I got super excited by having a chapter of Cur done and somewhat dusted and I can’t wait to get some feedback and people love the first chapter then some middle aged woman is giving me three stars because I spelled Coat of arms wrong haha.
So I was ‘ok bitch well your story better be fucking shakespeare’ and of course its some fucking trashy sci-fi mommy porn with the cringiest dialogue ever. It’s almost unbearable to read, and she seems to think just saying HARD COCK over and over classifies it for the romance section. That aint no romance, fucking some blasian dude over a vr sim hardly puts it next to romeo and juliet haha.

So I rip into this cringefest because it’s so fucking obvious what the plot is and its so badly put together and I always love it when they complain about my reviews. Because I only ever review the first chapter of stories on inkitt because that’s really the time you have to grab someone’s attention. If the first chapter is shitty the rest of the book has no hope, if that’s what you put out first the rest of the book doesn’t stand a chance. And I’m not prepared to waste all my time reading them through if they’re not enjoyable right off the bat.
But these people always whine ‘you can’t say the book is bad if you haven’t read the whole thing’ which is like saying ‘you don’t know the sandwich is full of dogshit until you eat it all’. Yeah no, I knew the witcher blood and elves was shitty under a quarter of the way through but I stuck it out because people said it was good, people were wrong, very wrong.

And I was talking to this person on inkitt and they were saying the second chapter is where it really gets going and I was like ‘Ok so why don’t you make that the first chapter haha?’ And I’m seeing this stuff with apologists for blood and elves too. I literally saw a comment on a negative review saying something like ‘dumbass the story only gets going in book 2’ and I’m like ‘well why didn’t he fucking start with book 2 then?’

It’s maddening, if your story starts at chapter 7 make chapter 7 your first chapter and work backwards because no one is going to make it to chapter 7 especially if your chapters are like 6k a piece. And I’m not going to read chapter 2 if chapter 1 both bored and disgusted me haha.

Ok so if I read your whole book then can I shit on it haha? That’s what I did for blood of elves haha. That’s time I’ll never get back haha.
I’m reading sword of destiny now because I skipped it somehow but it’s just a short story collection like last wish so it’s not so bad. I literally said ‘if Geralt isn’t balls deep in a griffin in the first chapter I’m not reading another page’ and low and behold you don’t actually see him fighting it but when he first appears he’s carrying a dead basilisk under his arm and then a random guy appears and one of his sexy bodyguards decapitates a spotty faced kid for no reason. So it has my attention for now, again I don’t feel the usual pull to read like I usually get because there’s no drive of story, it’s just a rambling short story, it has no real pull of a main plot so I’m not dying to know what happens next like I am when I read Parker or Dexter novels (I really want to read another parker novel haha) actually fuck it I’m going back to the Parker novels, now that I think about it, Parker is probably a better basis for Cur than Geralt, Geralt is sort of  cuck compared to Parker haha.
It’s totally due to the times they’re written in, the witcher is in written in the ‘muh waman respacter’ times of the 90’s post women’s lib and all that shit so the writing is really cucky and the story really focuses on the women in an asinine and also slightly pervy way (Ciri and Yenniffer love to take baths).

Whereas Parker is written in the sixties the women back handing generation haha. It’s much more satisfying haha, yup gonna read Deadly Edge next, fuck the witcher haha.

Ok so updates, not much to go over on the writing front, been dayjobbing it for a while so hopefully next week I can get back to it but almost forgot I got the next part of Diana After Dark back and that’s what I’ll be doing most of the day, just going over that and writing more reviews probably but significantly less savage ones haha.

See you…

–

Birds chirped happily, dogs barked. The sun was growing fat in the sky, smiling down on the snowy mountain town just now rolling out of bed.

A door opened on a suburban house, just missing one white picket fence. A round man in a shirt and tie came out of the door with a big winter coat in one hand and a steaming travel mug in the other. His hair a sheened brown quafe, the sides shaved down. A piece of toast sticking out of his mouth as he rounded the door jam.

He got to about halfway down the end of the drive to his waiting Volkswagen before a sweet voice called out to him.

“Honey, you forgot your briefcase.” A curvy redhaired woman called out to him smiling with high impact cheek dimples.

“Thangs honeybear” He said filtered through his piece of toast. He didn’t have any hands free so he looked around and put his travel mugs on the hood of his car. He cut back across the lawn to get his briefcase. Only to be football tackled by a two hundred pound five foot eight red squirrel.

And then a fox piled on top, and then a green honeybadger and a few others started a frenzied attack. All subtlety had died with master and they’d reverted back to mindless beasts with only one purpose. They’d changed from mind controlled zombie puppets to plain flesh hungry monsters. Ripping and tearing and feeding fresh meat into their furry mouths. Unaware that they could take the masks off. Their real hands underneath their costumes digging deep into their victims chest cavity. Pulling out organs like tickets from an arcade machine. The pain of which could only be maddening, like being gutted by a spoon covered in soft foam.

His wife, frenzied. Spinning into a temporary spell of insanity. Still she had the foresight to slam the door behind herself and lock it to keep the furry menace out. Bracing her wide frame against the door as the two locks probably weren’t enough.

A strange sound like fireworks on a bobsled hitting a dirth of snow hard in her backyard. Confused she went to investigate. Parting the curtains in her kitchen overlooking her lawn.

A strange metallic container had deposited itself in what could have been a rose garden. If it wasn’t so fucking cold here. It was like an alien seed right out of little shop of horrors.

“What the hell is that?”

Seemingly forgetting about what just happened to her husband. Unbeknownst to her, her town was being ravaged by zombie animal costume fetishists. She opened her backdoor and stepped out onto her back lawn to get a better look at this cosmic buttplug.

It was cold but she didn’t much care, the thing was hot and steaming, melting away the top layer of snow. It started to crack not unlike an egg, smoke and steam and a putrid smell leaking out.

“Oh my god”

An odd amniotic substance started leaking out of it. A little brown shape plopped out of the pod and melted the snow down to the frigid grass underneath.

“Is that a, baby?” The woman said getting closer to the still thing on the grass, that did look a little like a newborn fetus.

She got closer and started to brush off some of the fluid with the hem of her blouse. Then she picked it up not sure what to do with it but something nurturing was on her mind.

The ‘Baby’ opened it’s eyes and started to cry. She tried to calm it but it’s entire body shook. Then it melted through her arms into a viscous puddle at her feet growing wider and thick.

She was too stunned to speak, this felt more and more like a dream by the minute, Salvadore Dali on a good day. She stepped back wordlessly from the growing puddle of matter. It started growing larger and more violent. A tempest of matter growing long thick tongues, choosing it’s form, choosing a destructor.

She backed away to the door, the latch frozen shut again. She jiggled it and then the entire door was pulled off at the hinges as she clung to it. A long squamous tentacle dragged her across her lawn into the stationary puddle. More leathery tentacles taking shape enveloping her and well you’ve seen anime, you know where this is going.

–

Pretty girls make graves

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GS2 Chapter 17 ‘Heavy Hitter’

Well here we are again,

Not much has transpired between now and since my last blog, oh I got banned on facebook again for having wrong opinions but that happens so often it doesn’t even bare mentioning anymore. Also I watched thor ragnarok, stupid jokes aside, I rather liked it so don’t feel the need to write a cathartic review about it. I really don’t enjoy gushing over something I like unless it really highlights something pivotal I think the human experience or something artsy fartsy like that.

I only really want to write negative reviews because it feels like I’m exorcising those bad films out of my system by dissecting them. I’m trying to understand what made them so bad and how I can avoid those pitfalls in my own work. And although I could do the opposite with good movies, it’s less fun and funny and I’d prefer to keep the good stuff secret. So you the audience at home will never know why I liked Thor Ragnarok, I know right, it’s a crying shame, everyone is just clambering to know my opinion of a movie that’s already yesterdays news haha.

Besides that I finished to some degree a basic outline for what are set to be five books so far in the Cur series, could be six, it’s still very rough. Also been playing Gwent again, that cursed addiction and I’m thinking of stopping reading blood and elves or just skipping it. It’s probably the most tedious book I’ve ever read.

I was memeing before when I said I was halfway through and the only thing that’s happened is Ciri got her period. Now I actually am at the 150th page and literally all that’s happened is Dandelion got kidnapped for a bit and saved by Yennefer, then Triss goes to Kaer Morhen has some weird visions then they go to take Ciri to a monastery type thing but Triss gets a tummy ache on the way. 

That is literally what has happened in a 150 pages of the second witcher book. He hasn’t met a monster, Geralt, actually no one has drawn a sword in the entire book. I’m not even counting the kidnapping as a fight. And I think what’s more is the writer who’s name I wont even attempt to spell knew this book was boring that’s why he put Ciri escaping Cintra at the start and the Dandelion kidnapping in. So people wouldn’t think that a sequel to a book about a monster slayer was actually a book about a babysitter or a nurse maid, because that’s all Geralt has done so far. 

But what’s worse is those parts at the beginning aren’t even good, the cintra bit was generic fluff I basically skimmed and the Dandelion bit seems kind of superfluous now that I’m halfway through the book and it hasn’t come back at all. 
I really genuinely just feel no drive at all to read this book and I just force myself for ten minutes at a time to read it, which is why it’s taking so damn long to finish, this is without a doubt the longest it’s taken me to read a book ever.

I’m not someone that reads books especially fast, I like to take my time, I sometime reread parts just to fully experience them but I’m pretty consistently devouring books and I get through a far few. And what with putting them on my phone it’s become even easier just to use every free moment to do so, but I don’t find myself wanting to with this crap. I’m just forcing myself to read this filler.

Nevertheless, I’ll continue to slog it out in the hope the next book can redeem it.

I have rambled enough, time to do some actual work, been dying to do the scene structuring for the first Cur book and fingers crossed I might even start writer the fucker some time this year haha.

See you…

_

Zomnision watched the police station station burn. The fires reflecting in his now glassy expressionless eyes. His face was blown out and distended and looked something a kin to a Spanish omelette.

But he was pleased with himself, he wasn’t a fake anymore, he was a real psychic, a god, a zombie god. Accustomed to such, he’d given up walking. Opting instead to lounge his aching exposed joints to a throne of soft furries. Their bodies interlocked by his will. The base of which took their weight. They crawled along at the speed of a caterpillar in the midst of the thousand strong throng of his cult like followers. A sea of colourful characters wreaking havoc across the small town. Striking in unison as if they were a sword in his own hand, organised and merciless and kind of cute.

“Soon” He whispered “First this town, and then the world shall know my power is real”.

A strange disruption, a silver flash, furries flying in the air like an explosion in a build a bear store. Fluff raining down as this slim flash of sliver cut a path straight forward.

“What is that?” Zomnision said.

The Lancer was fast and precise, moving like a sliver of silver caught in an updraft. A living scalpel to cut out the cancer.

“You dare strike at me?”

The furries moved in a wave, surrounding the Lancer. Thousands of them piling all over him, moving as if connected, forming shapes even. Moving like the waves of an ocean battering against the Lancer. Pulling him down.

Zomnision’s face flaps jiggled as he laughed a cheesy comic book villain laugh.

The light forming in the cracks of the furry horde launched them upwards. A splash of them flying through the air like water particles. Fluff and blood and gore levitating for brief flashes. Silver sparks flashing inbetween brief pops of activity. The Lancer climbed the furries. He hopping them as they floated like stepping stones in some vertical zen garden. Cutting a swath closer and closer, an unstoppable immovable object colliding with mortality. A train with no tracks to rend bones to dust.

Zomnision was overwhelmed. His powers burgeoning on godhood but caught with his trousers down. His full potential a glimmer in his eye. The throne he was sitting on started to subsume him. The furries lifted and covered him. Interlocking like some horrible mix between power rangers and barnie the dinosaur. Forming on him like living armour fluffy armor. But it was too late, the Lancer had no time. No monologue would hold him back to witness some final transformation. This was a hurdle, a hiccup to correct before moving on.

He straddled the furry well, bubbling with activity like a rainbow anthill. He reached his metallic long claw deep into the pile. A crunching snapping noise like he was pulling a tooth and it came out spiked on his three pronged claw.

The head of the fake psychic.

The Lancer looked at it and smiled with his eyes. The pile of furry started to crumble and disperse. He walked down it as it collapsed like a poorly made sandcastle. He took the misshapen mushy excuse for a head. Placing it in some kind of sack made of an metallic alloy and affixed to his hip and continued on.

The furries seemed disinterested in the tall silver man. Their demeanors hadn’t changed. No magical spell was caste slaying the head vampire so easily, the effects were the same. They were still dead, sort of, and they were still furries. But now they were regular zombies, hungry and directionless. That was until an ear cracking explosion caught their attention over the horizon.

Suddenly filled with purpose. The now stringless zombie furries shambled in the general direction of the noise.

The Lancer watched them go and let out a robotic tinny laugh.

–

The donut shop was shredded by a large explosion. The giant metal donut on top was still connected on top just a little singed but still standing. The supports of the heavy donut groaning and shrieking under it’s weight.

The cooling barrel of a clip fed grenade rifle smoked in Juanitas hands. She held it in front of her crotch like a giant metal strapon.

“Nita why’d you blow up the donut shop?” Jaclyn screeched.

Juanita was shaking with her eyes closed. Satisfied sweat dripping down her pasty face as she held the giant rifle between her legs. She shook her head and opened her eyes coming out of it and said “Huh o-what?” She got snotty instantly, reaching back for that nasally vocal fry. “That and places like that victimize people of size like myself. Using their biology against them to make them fat”. She was panting a little and she dropped the guns stock to the ground. Holding herself up with it like a crutch and then said “Oh and I call dibs on this”.

Kat was loading up a mach ten looking down the sights of the compact sub machine gun. She cocked her head to the side and said “You can keep it honey, I don’t want anything to do with that thing.”

“Yeah too phallic, and too- black” Roch said as she cocked a pistol grip shotgun.

Kat looked back at her giving her the side eye but Roch didn’t look up as she loaded the compact shotgun.

Jaclyn looked at the large rifle Junita was leaning on. It looked like a huge sniper rifle, almost the length of the girl leaning on it. She differed to the users manual “Copperhead anti-tank rifle” She recited.

Juanita snatched the users manual off her and threw it into the gutter. “No one looks at these, just take this.” She said as she shoved a small pistol into Jaclyn’s hand.

“Wwwwait, I’ve never!”

“Oh stow it, if straight white men can do it then so can you girlfriend.” Juanita said clicking her fingers still leaning one hand on the large rifle.

“I guess.” She said looking down at it. She lifted her head and said “We need to get moving, they’re watching us for sure now. If we want to complete our mission we need to move fast.”

“Ok, but let me fire off another round first.” Juanita said as she lifted the huge gun with both hands burying the stock into her warm sweaty crotch. Gripping it with her huge thighs. “Ooh” She shivered as she stroked up the long black shaft fingering the trigger.

–

If you liked this and want to read more, head on over to inkitt by pressing on the link below.

Heavy Hitter

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GS2 Chapter 16 ‘Get at Me’

Good day humanoid creatures, not excluding non-euclidian slime constructs too un-nameably horrible to describe of course. Wouldn’t want to transdimensional amorphous nightmare shame.

It’s that time again, for me to talk words again, basically ramble about nonsense and then copy pasta a chapter from my nonsensical books and disappear into the ether yet again.

So been mostly just proofreading 3 ring, should really be putting some finishing touches on my Diana pitch but I just got let back on facebook so I’m too busy shitposting and spamming haha.

Also been watching the new season of Bosch and wishing I could write serious stuff, the closest thing to that is Diana, a story about  teenage serial killer. Although The One That Came Back is played serious and it’s actually doing really well on Inkitt.

But I’m itching to write the next Diana book, I just really want back into that world so bad, but something is telling me it’s too soon. I need a push really, trying to conjure it up because I wanted to start it this week but I might just work on Cur instead and push it along. It has to be just right, I can’t force it, it needs to come naturally and at the right time. Has to be organic. I want to savour it, I don’t want to rush it.

I really don’t know what I want to do with myself, I’ve been reading the second Witcher book Blood of Elves for inspiration and it’s far better than the first so far in that it’s actually a book and not a witcher cheesy clip show haha.
Y’all know I only rag on the witcher out of insecurity haha. It’s so well written it makes me sad, like how can I write something even close to on par with this? Even if the first one’s story didn’t make much sense. 
Again any gripes I have with this book are pure insecurity on my part  and I accept this fully and strive to be comparable. So far in the book not much has happened and I’m a fair way through it, around chapter 2 and these are pretty long chapters. But so far all that’s happened is a bunch of people talking for the purposes of world building and then the least interesting characters talk about the most interesting characters and then Triss goes to the witchers castle (I thought I could spell it, not even gonna try haha). No real action yet which is disappointing since the first book starts really strong. It’s not two minutes into the first book before he’s slicing up fools and then having a fight with a striga.

But this book seems content with describing mountains to an insane level detail that are sort of a waste of time. I dunno like if I wrote this stuff my editor would have cut it out. Is it essential to have every crag on the mountain described? I mean I like it, it makes me feel like I’m there but it isn’t propelling the story and there kind of isn’t one yet. There is no propelling narrative other than Ciri is special for reasons and shadowy men want at her. It’s making me want to play the games again though haha. I dunno like I loved the games and people were constantly praising the story and I thought it was bog standard ‘save the princess’ stuff with a few twists here and there where the princess is also a bad ass which also now isn’t a twist.

Although it never really felt forced with Ciri because it’s not implied that Ciri is more skilled than Geralt, despite Ciri having the powers of the elder blood. I think that transfers to the games too. There’s a distinct different feel when you swap between her and Geralt with all his cool powers and tonics and gadgets and her magic warping powers.

Still a fantastic game that deserves all the praise it gets which pissed me off at the time because I really wanted to be an uber edgelord and hate it haha.

Anyway enough rambling please to read my insanity, thanking you.

*Oh snap, almost forgot to mention Inkitt got back to me about 3 ring not being approved and they were all like “You used ‘unfamiliar characters'” or something along those lines so for a few minutes I felt decidedly silly. Until I realised the characters they were referring to were separators I use as a scene brake, aka something I’ve used in every one of my stories up til now, really gets the old noggin’ joggin’ there don’t it haha?

See you…

Get at me

~

There was a quiet ferreting knock at the chief’s office door.

“Err, chief?”

“Shhh, go away, I’m not coming out until the national guard show up!” The chief whispered.

“But sir, I don’t think we can stay here.” Coral said through the door of the chief’s office.

A rustling noise came from behind the door and an irritated clicking. The chief popped his head and the barrel of his colt python through the tight gap and spat “Coral! Go the fuck away or so help me- oh jesus!” He said as he looked past Coral at the dismay of the office. The spent cartridges and the bodies and little fires dying.

“It doesn’t get much better from there sir, erm, the building is being sieged.” Coral said. The chief gingerly entered the destroyed office.

“Sieged?” He said looking back.

“Yes sir, erm, by giant stuffed animals, or something.”

“What?” He said scrunching his fat face up.

–

The side fire door creaked open cautiously.

“Well they look like stuffed animals and they kill people, it’s hard to explain” Coral said as he went through the door. It was morning now, the sun was up and beaming cosmic rays of joy onto the snowy chaos.

“Wait Coral-“ The chief put his hand up to shush Coral. The python fully erect in his other hand as they heard these noises building. A distant whooping sound coming over the horizon. Dark blots looming, masked by the bright morning sun.

“What is it?”

“They’re here, we’re saved” The chief said smiling, holstering his gun and hiking his belt over his fat gut.

“Who’s here?”

“The national guard, the cavalry, the army, whoever.” He said turning back to Coral. Coral cupped his hands to protect from the glare of the sun. He could just make out their outlines and the spinning blades of helicopters whisking up the cold mountain air.

“Helicopters?” As if summoned by his words they passed overhead with a triumphant whooshing of air. He could almost hear in his mind the sound of flight of the valkries or some doors song from a vietnam movie.

“Damn straight, U.S.A Coral, we’re gonna be o-k, we’re-” He smiled and looked off into the bright sun, warming his face. “We’re gonna be just fi-“ His sentence cut off by a giant metal canister pulping him against the concrete. His guts and brains splattering Coral like they were thrown over him with a bucket.

Coral stopped dead in his tracks, dazed. He scooped his bosses guts out of his eyes allowing him to see a sleek pod of some sort. Slaked in the remaints of the fat police chief glistening in the mid morning sun.

–

The door of the atv clicked and opened. The limp body of the Frenchman rolled out of the driver’s seat onto the concrete garage floor. Falling like a dead gold fish getting poured into a toilet bowl.

The back passenger seat opened and Sunday climbed down from the high atv. Her long smooth naked legs gliding past eachother as she walked over towards the Frenchman. She padded him for his guns and ammo. She pulled the nine from his grip and the extra clip and threw it onto the front passenger seat. He lay lifeless on his back, eyes closed like he was sleeping.

When she was done she walked over to her headless body, the only sounds; her bare feet on the cold concrete. She looked down at it, pausing for a moment of thought, it looked so, pathetic. Smaller than her for some reason, sad like broken doll parts. Sighing or making some quiet noise to herself she started undressing her corpse. An odd tussle, like undressing a clothes store mannequin. The clothes seemed tighter, like the body was expanding or the clothes shrank in the cold.

When it was naked it looked even sadder, limp but getting colder and more rigid. She looked down at her headless bodies ankle and saw a small icecream tattoo. Looking down at her own ankle noticing it wasn’t there she got a strange creeping feeling. She was literally standing over her own grave.

She started to dress, the clothes were cold and crisp and felt itchy on her skin for some reason. It was unpleasant but better than freezing to death out there.

“So that’s how it is huh?”

Sunday zipped up her jacket and turned nonchalant to her other and said nothing. Her clone was coming out of the drivers seat still naked. Her skin getting more opaque but still white and slick looking.

Sunday ignored her and moved to the front of the atv pulling the corpse of her other clone off the hood by the ankle.

It was surprisingly light and came off with almost a single tug. It was a little too fast and the height and softness of the skull made a mess on Sunday’s shoes as it hit the concrete floor.

“Fucking great” She sighed.

“So you’re just going to ignore me?” The other one said.

Sunday passed her and stopped, looking at her hand. Her fingers had grown back, no scars, no nothing, like it never happened.

She walked over to her bat lying on the floor. Looking at the remnants of BJ strewn across the floor. Then over in the corner at Jimmies body slumped with a bullet in the head. She picked it up deliberately like it was cursed, letting its teeth scrape along the floor.

“You think this is a dream?” Her other said. “You can just leave me here, naked, alone and you and the fat kid are just gonna what? Drive off into the sunset?”

Sunday continued to ignore her like she wasn’t there. She moved to the rear passenger seat door to check on TJ. She opened the door and he was still passed out. She checked his finger, it was still missing, no point in trying to find it now, but the bleeding had stopped. She checked his pulse and his temperature, he was cold but his breathing was solid. She pulled his coat over him like a blanket and closed the door again. Without changing her expression from stolid concern.

She breathed in and out deep as she leaned against the door. Her face cold and contorting. Angry tired tears building up at corners of her eyes, kept in check by a bottled frustration.

“You’re a freak, he’ll know that soon enough, what’s the point in hiding it?” The other said. “Look at me, you’re not even human anymore.”

Sunday wiped her face and sniffed with a rising righteous anger. She ripped the drivers side door of the atv open and climbed in and slammed the door behind her. She sighed and fumbled for the keys in the pocket of her jacket and started up the engine.

It was quiet again, in her mind, in the garage; only the roaring hum of the engine. She rested her arms across the steering wheel. Dropping her head against them and started to weep softly.

“What makes you any more special than me?” The other said pressing against the drivers side door looking at her through the open window. “You were here first, is that how it is? You’re not speci-.“ A nine millimitre bullet shredding through her eyesocket shut her up. Sunday sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand with the nine in it. She licked her lips and swallowed. Her throat was raw now and her face was burning, the sound of the gunshot seemed to go on and on.

The body of the other still stood for a moment like a broken animatronic. Then crumpling under it’s own weight like it was made of coathangers and spackle. Hitting the concrete with a strange wet slapping noise.

She cursed herself and angrily threw the gun out of the car, like it was to blame.

Sunday bit her lip, scrunching up her face, mad, at herself, at everything she couldn’t change. She turned the rearview mirror to look at herself and attempted a limp cocky smile. Then dropped it like it weighed a tonne. She turned the mirror back and started the engine.

A ringing noise started as if out of nowhere, a phone?

–

A call came in on Jaclyn’s laptop, she answered hastily, her little heart pumping.

Macintosh’s strangely bulbous head came into to view, maybe he was just standing too close to his webcam.

“It’s time gender non-conforming humanoids. Pack up, we need to move fast, I’ve marked the cache on your map.” He made that effeminate sucking noise again and said nothing.

“Got it Mac, come on everyone, we need to move.” Jaclyn said in a peppy camp councillor voice. To which everyone collectively groaned and eye rolled.

“Hey, I’m the leader here” Juanita said spitting half chewed chirros out of her mouth. “I tell us to go” She paused “Let’s go everyone! What are we waiting for?”

Kat was even more jittery now. Her hands shaking as she opened the blinds “It’s good, cost seems clear, I don’t think any normal people are even awake yet.”

Roch hopped out of her seat and walked up to the window next to Kat and said “Finally, lets get out of this shithole.”

Kat looked at her and sneered “You brush your teeth with shit?”

Roch looked at her and said “Fuck you” storming off, with her back turned breathing into her hand and sniffing it.

“Is this thing working or not, piece of crap?” Juanita said getting in the face of the monster they had on loan from Lysander labs, unofficially.

“Erm, it should be working, I think it’s just in like on standby, power saving mode, ya know?” Jaclyn said.

“Well we need it now, wake it the fuck up!” Juanita said shaking her head with a latin bob.

“Ok let me just-” She started tapping at her laptop.

“Wakey wakey” Juanita started to tap at it’s large misshapen head like she was knocking on a door.

The thing started to shake. It lumbered forward but now its spine started to straighten and it was a huge thing once again. It’s eye red and glowing.

“We’ve got work to do”

“WORK” The thing said robotically.

–

“What the fudge” Coral said as he slopped gore onto the back parking lot of his former office.

The canister was shaped like an egg, like one of those things covered in chocolate you get kids toys out of. But the seam was at the front and it had a see-through window.

Some strange force compelled his curiosity to overreach his abstract horror and desire to not be dismembered. He got close enough to look to crane his neck over the steaming mess of his former boss to look inside.

Before he could get close enough the door in the front opened with a hiss of nmeutatics and a cloud of steam. Then a rattling clicking noise. Something quick and small launched itself into the mist.

Carl coughed and blinked, taking off his glasses and rubbing his nose. He tried to clear the smoke and then blinked again as he saw a squat figure hunched over by the pod.

“Err, are you lost kid, do you need me to find your parents” Carl said, half dazed by a chunk of brain hitting him in the face.

“Kid?” The figure said, shaking.

The smoke cleared and the figure stood to a less than impressive five foot nothing. He turned without moving his feet. An unnatural pose, turning his spine around revealing a young fresh face. Maybe even some freckles and a tuft of light coloured hair. Which was poking out of what looked like a chrome centurion helmet.

He was what looked like a fourteen year old kid wearing a skin tight jumpsuit. The suit looked vaguely metallic covered in exagonal scales. His arms and legs encased in some kind of weird layered armor.

“Are you here for that furry convention? Are you one of those Larpers? I used to play dungeons and dragons as a kid, I’m kinda cool for an adult.” Coral was rambling.

The kid grinned, his eyes were weird, one blue one green. A section of the centurion helmet came down and locked in place hiding his face. A thin strip of light behind a glass visor.

“Oh that’s cool, did you make that yourself? Is this from an anime I haven’t seen yet?”

The kid kept smiling with his eyes as if by magic a beanstalk started to grow. He was getting taller.

“What the heck?”

The kids legs and arms were getting longer and thinner and sharper. The armor on his arms and legs were telescopic, extending like a pointer. Growing long and gangly but still rigid and strong, his limbs were thin and monstrous like a metal spider’s legs. He’d grown to a height of at least nine feet tall.

One hand reached back, the dexterity was still as precise as if it was his real hand. The limbs moved effortlessly, quick and responsive. His left hand gripped at a raised portion of the back of his suit. It began to pull at some long strange soft metallic object, like it was made of fabric or a thin mail chain.

Pulling it out it was appeared to be some kind of silvery baton, a completely unremarkable piece of metal.

“Err that’s kind of cool”

The kid chuckled, his voice enhanced by the visor to sound deeper and more monstrous. Inside the visor he smiled, bright lights illuminating his face.

The kid pressed an almost invisible button on the underside of the baton. The pod he arrived in started to vibrate the ground under it. Hatches at the side opening a gasp of hissing mneumatics. Two ufos shot out spinning too fast to keep track of. The pod hatches closed. An indecernible lump of flesh from the chief plopped onto the ground taking on no real shape, making a grotesque sound.

Whipping wurring noise sounded. The light and the speed made it impossible to see what the two objects flying through the air were. Just glimpses through the corner of Coral’s eyes. Brief flashes like cars passing too fast reflecting the light. A wooshing noise around his ear and a brief flits of fast moving air, his hair parting.

The two pieces locked into place at the end of the dull metal shaft the kid was holding. Forming a long chrome double headed lance.

Carl began to clap nervously like he just saw a clown juggling flaming chainsaws.

The Lancer cringed as he felt a wave of condescension coming from the gangly dispatcher. Pity applause. A fearful uproarious clapping.

“That was, uhm, something else” Coral said laughing uncomfortably. “Oh I get it now, you’re like an anime mash up of Inspector gadget. ” He laughed. “Should have known by the gogo gadget extending arms, wow, how long did it take to make all this stuff?”

A light flashed in the Lancer’s helmet. On the inside a screen was illuminated. Directives, written in a standard type font it read “Contain infection, Kill fatso”.

The lancer scanned the skinny dispatcher and there was zero threat. He was unarmed and unoffensive.

Still, feeling slighted. He turned his lance over and pressed a button. A quick roaring noise launched the end of his lance at an inhuman speed like a rocket.

Coral ducked grabbing his head, cowering holding onto his butt.

He looked around and he was intact, not a scratch. He shrieked as he looked at the wall of the police station. A foot away from where his head was was the other end of the lance stuck at least a six inches into the wall’s structure.

The Lancer was walking away and Coral shakily called out “Hey, you forgot your, err, thing!”

The Lancer lifted his lance without looking back and pressed another button. The lance in the wall started to wiggle like a tooth being extracted. The wall shaking, it sounded like it was drilling it’s way out.

In an instant it burst loose with a cough of cement dust and rubble. Shooting back onto the other end of the lance with a thin sheen of masonry dust and a clicking noise.

Coral breathed a sigh of relief before the entire wall collapsed on him, crushing him to death.

0

GS2 Chapter 15 ‘Fist of the White Lotus’

Another day, another morning where I feel like someone dropped a tanker truck on me. I don’t know if it’s because I’m actually following my polyphasic sleep schedule a little tighter to make more time for reading and cooking or if it’s because of my encroaching gains or both haha.

I had a protein shake this morning so I should perk up around about the time I need to do it all again haha. But results are really good, feeling good looking good. I still miss martial arts, I’d love to get back into them but I have this weird dichotomy in my head where I feel like diverting time and energy away from writing in any capacity even for a day would be a hinderance. But moreover it’s the social aspect. I find solace in the solitude of lifting weights at home. 

I just have my videos I use, I have my own weight and I just work and that’s how I like it. I miss the the catharsis of beating the shit out of people but I feel like I need the solitude and I need the space in my head. I dunno maybe it’s because the only martial arts club around is the one I grew up going to and I feel sort of like a failure, I’m almost thirty and I’m still trying to make a career out of pulling dumb stories out of my ass and working a dumb entry level job populated by teenagers and my hair is thinning haha. 

Does this qualify as a mid life crisis? I dunno, but I hope not because I sure as shit can’t afford a sports car haha.

Down to business, erm so I got another 10k out of Chrissy, my new editor and that’s what I’m doing today haha. Just gonna be proofreading and building my agent pitch with Diana. I was looking at the definition of ‘women’s fiction’ and funny enough it qualifies so that should be funny using that shitlib identity politics bullshit to try and make it appeal to cat ladies in new york haha. I mean what the fuck is ‘women’s fiction’? I mean how is that a thing?

This is where I put on my fedora and say “Why isn’t there a ‘men’s fiction”.

Then I put on my womyn respecter pink pussy hat and say “Because all fiction is male fiction bigot!”

But in all seriousness I wrote Diana without any politics in mind at all and she’s basically just me meets Dexter in pink panties haha. I just wanted to make an interesting fun story because that’s what I keep coming back to. 

Don’t get me wrong I love these deep meaningful stories like fight club but I never find myself coming back to them. I enjoy them in the moment but I would never reread something like that for fun. But every time I read Dexter I enjoy it. So that’s what I want to write, it’s what I like to write and I can still attempt those fight club style stories with my own spin, which is relevent because a podcast I was listening to recently did a bit on the deeper meaning of fight club and that’s sort of what encouraged me to start 3 ring samurai. So that stupid shit about samurai clowns is my answer to fight club haha.

I am really enjoying writing it though. 

Still hammering away at the first witcher book, I like it but it takes a concentrated effort to read it, mainly because it’s not really about anything, it’s just a bunch of unconnected stuff happening, a fantasy clip show with the only real connection being they’re stories about Geralt. So I find it hard to follow because there is no plot thread pushing me along. But it’s well written and I was reading it this morning thing “I say ‘said’ way too much” do they not have a word for ‘said’ in polish?

I can barely understand who’s talking most of the time and Geralt loves to fucking talk, he’s going for this brooding badass emo (spacing on the name of the character he’s a direct copy of) but he never shuts his fucking mouth haha. Like he has these long monologues sometimes, in fact there’s even a bit where he has this one sided conversation with a mute.

But I’m like is this what cool writers do, never use the word ‘said’ then the mini freakout bullet sweats starts, maybe I should start deleting all the ‘saids’ haha ^_^’. Just gonna ctlr+f search all ‘said’s and erase them and hope for the best haha.

Nah I’m not doing that, just gonna keep going over it and that’s what I should be doing now instead of just talking nonsense.

See you…

Fist of the White Lotus

~

“Mr Fuzzles, I can’t run anymore” Sparkles exclaimed in her cartoonish girly voice.

Fuzzles was breathing heavy, feeling like he’d been dragging her the whole time. His costume was drenched in sweat, heavy and getting heavier by the minute. The cold setting in everytime they had to stop. He looked up and down the street and saw that they looked invariably empty, they were a good block and a half away from the police station.

“Are you ok, did they get you?” He said looking back at her.

She looked at herself up and down patting herself with her hoofs and said shaking her head “I don’t think so”

“I thought I lost you, they were everywhere, they got so close, I was sure-“

“We’re ok, thanks to you, my cat in shining armor” She said giggling.

“Really?”

She nodded emphatically. Leaning over and planting a kiss on his whiskered cheek making a loud smooch kissing noise.

He clutched his paws to his chest and then his face as if he was blushing.

“What are we gonna do now, the police station was no good, where else can we go that’s safe?” She asked.

“What’s that?” Fuzzles said pointing at Sparkles foot.

“Huh?” She said as she started to twist and turn to look around herself.

“There, on your foo-hoof” He caught himself.

“Oh” She said as she peeled a brightly coloured wet pamphlet off her hoof. She opened it and started to read it like a child. “Whitefish mall, stores galore. A giant pirate themed Christmas show every hour, and the largest indoor icerink in the pacific northwest.” She opened more panels on the pamphlet.

Fuzzles sidled up next to her and started to look it over. He enthusiastically took the pamphlet off of her and said “This place is huge, it looks like a fortress.”

“It’ll be a great place to hide.” She said.

“No one would find us there and there’d be food and who knows what else.” He added.

“How do we get there?” She said.

He flipped over the pamphlet and said “There’s a map on the back.”

“Yay, let’s go.” Sparkles said as she hooked her hoof around Fuzzles arm. They started to skip in the snow in the general direction of the mall. As she turned it made visible a small tear in her costume. The tear revealed a pair of boxer shorts with hearts on them and a small bite mark below the leg opening on a hairy leg.

–

“You think I am born yesterday?” The Frenchman said as he tapped TJ on the head with his own severed pinky finger laughing.

TJ’s eyes fluttered and he passed out from the pain.

The Frenchman stood and scoffed looking down at TJ lying flat on the concrete floor.

He sniffed the air and then had a strange sensation at the back of his neck. The sensation spreading all the way around his head until he could feel it on his face. Cold fingers, little dainty fingers were crawling around his head like a spider’s legs. For some reason this didn’t alarm him, straight away. He didn’t feel any inherent intent and the feeling was so strange it felt almost like a dream. A wave of euphoria and disbelief swishing around in his head. The fingers were slimy and thin. When they got in his nose and mouth he sputtered and spat and turned around. Waking from his daydream to see.

A girl.

She was naked, green hair, soft pale skin. So pale it looked see through, like a permeable membrane. Bright blue veins running under the surface, small pert breasts, long sleek legs. She almost glowed like some sort of sprite or faerie. Delicate, yet boyish facial features completed the woodland nymph aesthetic. His turning abruptly off balanced her. Her legs moving like that of a newborn horse. She crumpled into a dainty pile on the floor looking like a renaissance painting. The girl was looking around the room as if she’d never seen lights before. She cowered and covered her shame with her small hands.

The Frenchman was dismayed. He coughed as if he forgot how to swallow. He still had TJ’s finger in his hand. He looked at it and laughed a little and then tossed it away wiping his hand. He jumped to her aid taking off his battered leather jacket to wrap around the young helpless girl. Stuttering red of cheek as he said “Mademoisselle, forgive me, sil vous plait”.

He draped his coat across her shoulders and patted them. He grunted as he got up to a knee. He moved around her like a squat plumber trying to get better angle on a ubend but she shyed from his glance. He took her chin in his hand and smiling said “What’s your name?”

She looked up and furrowed her brow.

He felt a strange sensation in his gut, de ja vu. Someone was walking over his grave. Her face, he looked off by the atv and saw the headless body of the woman he saw decapitated as he entered. “Impossible’” He muttered under his breathe.

The girl whispered her name “Sunday” her throat dry and raspy.

A sound came from the other side of the room. A mneumatic hiss and gears turning. The large garage doors were starting to open and light from the garage was leaking out. The door opened slow. The gap started growing bigger between it and the floor. A stage curtain lifting, revealing furry feet growing taller and taller. They were out there silently waiting, rows and rows of them thick.

BJ sat with his back to a column next to the garage door bleeding out. The control box connected to the garage door with a long thick cable in his lap. He was holding it down to open the garage doors, lying in a puddle of his own blood coughing and sputtering as it came up. Only one arm seemed usable the other was dead and drenched in blood, his lower body was caked in it but he was still alive.

“I’ll get you, you french faggot!” He cursed between bouts of bloody coughing.

“Merde” He called as he started to look for more ammo in his pockets closing the gap between BJ and himself. He saw Sunday’s bat on the floor. The garage doors were getting wider like the jaws of a giant crocodile, but slow, painfully slow.

The Frenchman stomped towards the bat catching his breathe.

BJ laughed, sputtering more and more blood as the heavy door rose. Before he could take in this small kamikaze victory he was dragged through the small gap. A furry monkey wearing a ‘I heart bananas’ t-shirt wrenched him by the head and shoulders. The garage door closing down on him. The force of the monkey and the door keeping him in place ripping him two disjointed pieces.

The Frenchman stopped in his tracks as the door slowly closed again on the twitching remains of BJ. Which was his legs and most of his lower body. He made a face like he wished he hadn’t seen that. “I must go” He said to himself.

He heard the patting of fast bare feet and he turned to see his jacket lying on the floor but no girl. He turned again and she was right there an inch from his face, her face pale and lined with veins

“BOO!” She shouted in his face, the wind of her breath knocking him back. He stumbled backwards tripping over Sunday’s bat. Slashing out of clumsy fear with his tanto knife. Cutting at her outstretched hand slicing off her fingers. She screamed and he landed at the feet of Bj’s leftovers. It was a hard fall for a man of advancing years, his large frame and weight hitting the ground like a sack of faberge eggs.

He rose to his forearms shakily, he’d landed face first in BJ’s blood and guts and it was all over him. He looked at his hands touched his face and grimaced at the smell. The disgust of being covered in the vile sticky cooling substance growing. He saw the steam rising off what could have been a portion of lower intestine and started to heave.

He rummaged around in his pants and found what he was looking for. He slipped the extra clip into his nine with a mechanical sliding clicking sound. He arose from the muck, hunched like a troll, the nine at waist height. He looked frantic, his eyes darted from corner to corner. Listening for those bare feet on the concrete floor.

He heard them and laughter and he fired into the dark garage. The sound of bullets hitting concrete with a cold slap, the jangling of car parts but no blood or cries of pain.

A building sound, whispering, talking.

“Over here” The voices said.

He fired in the direction of the sound and rounded the atv quickly to find nothing. Not even the fatboy was still there.

“Merde”.

“Over here” The voices whispered again.

He turned and marched around the car holding his gun like a detective chasing down the pink panther. The panther, just out of reach.

“I’m right here a louder voice said.” Accompanied by the sound of bare feet on metal, a bouncing balking sound of suspension.

He turned to see her, she was standing on the car, completely naked. Her hands on her hips like Peter Pan smiling cockily. She looked strange, translucent, so much so it seemed like you could see her skeleton through her skin. She looked down at him and laughed at his confused frightened eyes.

The Frenchman hesitated for a split second but his composure came back in droves. He took aim and fired hitting her right between the eyes.

The bullet landed but she remained standing on the car smiling for a another few seconds with the hole in her head. Before her expression slipped off her face and she fell lifeless onto the hood. Like a hunting trophy making a light thud.

He was confused even more now, he approached the body of the girl he shot lying lifelessly on the hood of the atv. There was no doubt it was the girl he saw before, same face, same hair, the skin was different. He turned her head and the back of it was missing, that was different. He hadn’t missed, this wasn’t a trick, he shot her in the head. She was dead, again.

But the noise of feet could be heard again. That slapping of warm feet on cold concrete, was ghostly now. His heartbeat slackened as the room was silent but for the calm shuffling of furries outside. Cushioned banging noises of padded paws clutching at nothing.

He probed the darkness with his gun like he was parting a curtain or a bed of seaweed on a coral reef. A bone white hand grabbed at his wrist in answer. It wasn’t a strong grip but it was fixed like it had sealed around his arm and he couldn’t shake it off. It stuck onto his wrist like a shark bite and it wouldn’t let go. He was taken aback, left with no choice. His mind fluttering like the pictures in a slideshow. Reaching for the tanto knife and slicing and sawing. It didn’t take more than a few seconds to cut through the supple thin skin and soft muscle tissue. The bone parted easily like it was made of still drying cement.

He pulled his arm back dropping the gore caked knife on the concrete floor. His breathing slackened off and he said “Putain!” walking around the edge of the atv. He opened the drivers side door and climbed in and shut it behind him locking the door. He checked the ignition, the keys weren’t there. He flipped down the sun-visor and there was no joy, he opened the glove box and a little light came on but no hope.

“Merde.” He sat for a second in contemplation, the silence encroaching slowly. He flicked open a folding knife and started prying the panels under the dash. Only then noticing the white hand and forearm were still firmly connected to his wrist.

He held back a scream and in a frenzy pried the hand away from his wrist. Letting it drop into the passenger footwell. There was a strange smell and an odd sucking sapping noise.

He looked into the back rearview mirror. The fatboy was lying across the backseat breathing heavily a sheen of sweat on his face. The Frenchman sat forward again and swallowed. He wiped the sweat from his brow going back to work on the exposed wires.

Then another sound, a low hissing right next to his head. The arm shot out again, latching onto his wrist but there was more. Attached was an elbow and an upperarm. Both covered in a wet slimy looking see through membranous skin.

He was frozen in the grip of a terrible unknown. The arm leveraged at his wrist for purchase. Lumbering into sight an inhuman spectacle. Attached to the arm was an unnameable thing, person shaped. A skeleton sprouting like roots right before his eyes, soft and warm and with a strange sweet smell. A blob of translucent goo taking a vaguely person-shaped form. A skull forming like decay in reverse, soft and clay like. Forming underneath the translucent bubble of plasma. Teeth and eyes and tufts of green hair.

He tried to shout, say something but the Frenchman had no air in his lungs to scream. No words that would explain this travesty of nature unfurling in front of him, right at his feet. It rose like a ghostly snot bubble between his legs, climbing his thighs, latching to his clothes.

A phrenetic fumbling for his gun ensued. His eyes not moving off the shifting, shapeless form building in his crotch region.

His hands felt weak and disjointed. The adrenaline rushing around his body rendering his muscles limp and slow like he was moving underwater. He aimed the gun in the region where he could see the brain forming in real time under the translucent skin sack.

“Psss” A hushed voice said from the backseat.

He caught his breathe and looked into the rearview mirror. A shock of green and white and a wirey arm snaked around his neck locking in place. One hand locked on the other white bicep. Her other hand behind his head pushing it down squeezing his carotid. Her head was next to his, he could hear her breathing in his ear. Smell her hair and skin, her warm cheek pressed against his stubbly greasy one.

His vision started to get spotty, his gun came up slow using the mirror for guidance. He could see her teeth, the top of her head cut off by the angle of the mirror. The gun creeping through the air as if on strings getting closer to both their heads locked together. He started to lose feeling, the thing at his legs held him still. He could only feel the weight of the gun and it coming closer, his finger twitching on the trigger. His eyelids taking him in and out, in and out, his breathe wheezing as he started to feel ethereal.

A brief flash lit up the garage, a tight popping and it went quiet again.

0

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