The Wound (Short Story)

I'm stabbing my father to death.

Well, not “to death”.

That would imply he's still alive.

He hasn't been for a while.

I think I've been at him for an hour now. I'm surprised the knife hasn't broken. It's just a cheap kitchen knife. I would have thought driving it into his skull multiple times would have at least bent the blade. It didn't. His face looks like raw meat now. I've been going at the gut. I tried to slice him down the middle but the edge wasn't sharp enough. So I've just been jabbing it in. 

The first thing I attacked was his genitals. Originally, I was just going to cut them off and let them bleed to death. But I didn't like the faces or the noises he made. So I decided to stab it until he died. I just couldn't stop. 

I start feeling bored so I take the knife out. I go over and sit against the wall. I'm breathing heavy from the excitement of destroying him. My heart is racing and I can feel the hard-on in my pants.

I guess none of the neighbors heard. I'm pretty sure the cops would be here by now if they had.

I look at the sleeve of my right arm. It's covered with blood. I pull it up and reveal the bandage that covers my arm from the wrist to the elbow. I take the knife and cut the bandage off. I reveal the gaping wound that covers the entire underside of my forearm.

It doesn't bleed or fester.

I can't see any bone or muscle in the split skin.

I can feel intense cold coming from it. I feel wind blowing from it and white flakes come through it.

Snow.

I look closer.

I see mostly white.

I can see some mountains nearby. It's a calming image. It settles me and I let the cold wind blow against my sweaty face for a moment.

Then I get bored. I roll down my sleeve and wait a moment. I pull it back up.

I see a mostly desolate area this time. The body in the middle lays on the gray ground. It's bloated with a blue face. The vacant eyes are wide and staring up at me.

I remember this guy. He hadn't wronged me. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I wanted to see if people could travel through the wound. So I found someone walking alone in a secluded area. I waited for him. Then jumped down and swung my forearm at him. It swallowed him right up.

I looked down in the wound and saw he had landed on the gray land. Apparently, the air was breathable because he didn't die right away. I guess he could see me too. He looked up and demanded I let him out. I shouted down that I didn't know how. After a day or so, I checked up on him. He was still there and he asked for food and water. I told him he could have some in exchange for his clothes. He didn't comply at first. After a couple days he broke down and stripped. He tried to toss his clothes up, but they couldn't reach. No food for you then, I told him. Every so often I checked up on him and he would beg and plead. I just ignored him. Eventually, he died of dehydration.

I should take a moment to explain the wound. You see, I don't know why it acts like it does. About a year or so ago, I wanted to die. I took a razor and sliced down my wrist. It hurt like hell, but I didn't bleed. I looked in the small wound and I could see something. I was looking at some other world. This first world I saw looked like a jungle with plants that were mostly red. It was like looking through a peephole. I sliced the wound further so I could see more. I could see strange animals wandering this red jungle. I was amazed. I decided didn't want to die anymore.

By experimenting, I figured out how the wound worked. When I covered it up for about 30 seconds, it would show me a new world. Except every other time, it would show me the same two worlds. The pattern was like this

1. New world.
2. The gray world. The body is in this one.
3. New world.
4. A vacuum.
5. Back to 1.

I could spend hours just looking at these new worlds. After a time, they simply began to make me depressed. All I could do was look at them. I couldn't climb through to them. I thought about cutting my arm off and climbing down that way. But I knew that wouldn't work. Every other place on my body I tried cutting just bled normally. If I cut off my arm I would bleed to death. I didn't even know if people could travel through. That's why I forced that guy into it.

Knowing that I could put bodies through the wound, I got an idea. I've been wanting to kill my father for years now. I could never think of way I could get away with it, though. Now I knew. I would just go to his house and murder him. Then I would dispose of the body in the wound. What could they do if they could never find his body?

I guess I got a little carried away. I'm lucky the neighbors didn't hear my rampage.

I think it's time to shove his body in the wound.

I decide to see what the next world will be first.

I cover up the wound and wait a moment.

I uncover it and look in.

It's a desert. I can see a pile of bones that have some meat on it. There's a creature picking at it. The creature has a body that looks like a giant roach and a head that looks like some kind of bird's. It looks up at me. It has black insect eyes. It goes back to picking at the bones.

I get an idea.

I yell into the wound. The creature looks back up at me. I turn my forearm to face my father's body.

I hope this works.

After a moment I hear flapping from inside the wound.

It gets louder.

The creature comes out of the wound. It goes over to my father's body. It starts eating it.

I smile.

I go into the bathroom to make another bandage for the wound.

I leave.

When they find his body, they'll believe that creature killed him. The confusion will keep them from ever knowing it was me. Better yet, I now know things can come here from the wound.

All I need to do now is bide my time and be patient. Soon, I'll find a world in the wound with far more destructive creatures. I'll entice them out and I'll release them on the world.

Alex Watches Television (Short Story)

Alex walks into his apartment and sits on his bed. He looks at his television. He gets up and presses the power button. The television comes on. Alex sits down.

There is a title card in Russian on the television. Alex can not read it. It fades out. A black and white image of a soldier with a Soviet uniform comes on. The soldier reaches out. The camera pans back to reveal he is taking a baby from a woman. The woman cries and tries to hold on to the baby. The soldier pulls it out of the woman's hands. The soldier holds the baby upside down by its leg. The baby loudly cries. The soldier takes out a pistol and shoots the baby through the head. The baby goes silent and the woman screams. The soldier throws the baby on the ground. The woman cries and screams. The soldier shoots the woman through the head.. The woman falls over on the baby's body. The soldier walks away. The camera stays on the bodies of the woman and the baby.

Alex gets up and changes the channel. He sits down. The picture shows a young boy crying in a white void. He looks up at the camera. He crawls toward the camera. He puts his face against what seems like a pane of glass. It is like the boy is pressing against the screen from the other side. The boy sobs. He hits his fist on the glass.

Alex gets up and changes the channel. The picture shows surveillance footage. The footage shows a woman in a white gown dancing in an empty room. A composition by JS Bach is playing. Alex sits down and watches the woman dance. The music changes to a composition by Pyotr Tchaikovsky. The woman continues to dance. The music stops. The woman sits down on the floor. The music starts again. It is a composition by Ludwig van Beethoven. The woman gets up and continues to dance.

Alex gets up and changes the channel. The picture shows static. Alex changes the channel. The picture shows static. Alex changes the channel. The picture shows a man sitting in a chair reading a newspaper in a boiler room. The newspaper is in Chinese. The man looks up from his newspaper. He gets up and walks towards the camera. He reaches behind the camera. The picture becomes static.

Alex changes the channel. The picture shows the film Taxi Driver. The film is dubbed in a language Alex does not recognize. Alex changes the channel. The picture shows the dead woman and baby again. Both have decomposed. Alex stares at the screen. He reaches behind the television. He pulls up the cable cord. It is not plugged in. Alex stares at the cord. He looks back at the screen.

I think I need a new TV, Alex thinks. He throws down the cable cord and turns off the television.

Book Review: Like Porno for Psychos by Wrath James White

Wrath James White is a horror author I recently discovered, and I figured this month was the best time to pick up and read one of his books. I admit I gravitated towards this collection because of the title.

I'll let you determine what that says about me.

Like Porno for Psychos is a collection of ten stories book ended by two poems. I'll start off with what I enjoyed the most. I'll be avoiding spoilers for the most part.

The book opens with a poem titled "Sex and Slaughter". In this poem, a sadistic psychopath insists that his desire to inflict pain is the purest expression of love. It's a pretty good piece that sets the tone of the rest of the book perfectly.

"Feeding Time" is a gloriously over the top story about a woman with a fetish for lions. There are a lot of porn story tropes on display here, and every single one is turned up to 11. And it is fucking awesome. I had a lot of fun reading this one.

"Rottweiler" is a very short one. It's about a boy and the lengths that his dog will go to protect him from his perverted babysitter. A very satisfying revenge story.

"House Cleaning" is another very short one. This one is more of a vignette than a story. Here, we meet a woman who takes cleaning seriously. Very seriously. I love the build up Wrath creates in such a small space and ends it with a great pay off.

"Fatter" is another one that's more of a vignette. This is a very tragic one about a woman desperate to lose her excess weight. I couldn't help but feel for this poor woman.

"After the Cure" is probably the one that reads the most like a porno. Up until the ending that is. In this story, a cure for not only AIDS but for every single STD has been discovered. After it's administered to several people, an unexpected side effect begins to manifest. This story was actually very erotic and that made the ending even more of a punch in the balls.

Now for the ones I didn't like.

"Like Peyote for Pimps" is a story about a pimp who sets out to deal with the serial killer who's been murdering his girls. This story had some interesting ideas, but just didn't work as a whole for me.

"Make Love to Me" is the poem that ends this collection. A role reversal from the first poem, this is about a masochistic expression of desire. While not terrible, it wasn't as good as the first poem and felt like a weak way to end the book.

I should note that I enjoyed the rest of the stories, so this book comes out with ten hits and only two misses.

On another note, this book has several copy editing errors. Not enough to ruin the book, but enough to be pretty noticeable. I hope these get fixed if it has another printing.

This is a very short book at 87 pages, so the weak stuff works against it harder than usual. That said, I think the strong points were strong enough that this book is worth the $8 price tag if you're looking for horror that goes all out. I know I'll be checking out more of Wrath's work. The extreme violence and explicit, perverted sex will be off-putting for many, but what the hell do you expect with a book called Like Porno for Psychos?

Buy Like Porno for Psychos by Wrath James White here.

Last Night I Dreamt of Hell and High Waters (Short Story)

There's a reason I'm living in this abandoned warehouse. It's not because I'm a drunk or drug addict. It's not because I'm mentally ill either. Though people might think I am.

You see, it began about a month ago with a dream I had. Well, I don't even know if it was a dream. I don't know what else to call it.

In this dream, I found myself on a fishing boat. The boat was decrepit and rusty. There was a giant crane in the middle of the deck holding a net. The crew looked like normal fishermen for the most part. Except there was something really awful about their eyes. Have you ever looked someone in the eyes after you made them extremely angry? These fishermen looked like that all the time.

The surrounding ocean was an unnatural green and looked more like sludge than ocean water. The sky was covered in clouds that were the same green as the ocean with areas of rust red in the cracks of the clouds.

They dropped the crane into the water and left it in there for a short time. Then they pulled it up and let the net drop their catch all over the deck.

But there were no fish. There was only garbage.

And bodies

Bodies of infants

Many of them looked torn apart. A few were still alive, twitching and making gurgling sounds. The deck was soaked with their blood and viscera.

I was so frightened and disgusted that I accidentally backed right off the deck and fell overboard.

The sludge water felt indescribably gross. I started thrashing and panicking. The fishermen dropped the crane back in the water. I swam over to it and grabbed on to the rope.

That's when I woke up.

I was disturbed, yes. But I shrugged it off pretty quickly. After all, it was just a dream.

Famous last words.

I went about my day. However, not long afterwards I started hearing laughter. It would start very quiet and distant sounding. Then it would get gradually louder until it was like someone howling right in my ears. Then it would suddenly stop.

I tried waiting for it to go away. It wouldn't. After two weeks, I was still hearing it several times a day and I couldn't sleep because it kept waking me up.

I knew it wasn't real. But I had to prove it to myself. I got a tape recorder and waited for the laughter to start up. Then I pressed record. After the laughter stopped I rewound the recorder and pressed play.

I heard it!

The laughter was coming from the recorder!

The laughter was fucking real!

I knew I had to run. I had to get away from whatever it was.

I dropped everything and I went to my mother's house. I told her I couldn't explain, but I needed to stay with her for awhile. She probably thought I committed a crime and was hiding out. Either way, she let me stay. Bless that woman.

For about a month, I didn't hear anything. I thought I lost whatever it was.

But then it started again.

Without telling my mother, I left her house and skipped town.

That's why I'm here now.

It's been three weeks and it hasn't found me yet. I know it will soon and then I'll have to run again.

That's how it is. If you think I'm crazy or you don't believe me, I have nothing left to say to you.

There Goes the Neighborhood (Short Story)

Back when I was a kid I lived in a neighborhood where most people kept to themselves. I didn't really know anyone there and all my friends lived on the other side of town. Not my parents, though. They were pretty close to the neighbors in the house next door. They would come over to our house all the time. They didn't have any kids for me to play with, so I was usually pretty bored.

I would sit there watching TV while my parents would talk with them. I never really paid attention to them.

Except that one night.

I noticed that they had suddenly gone quiet. So I turned to them to see what was up. They were all staring at me. I began to feel nervous and I wondered if I had done something wrong.

Suddenly their eyes started rolling around in ridiculous ways. Facing in opposite directions and not focusing on anything at all. They began to babble in complete nonsense. I didn't know what had happened to them, all I knew was I had to get out of there.

I ran across the street. There was an old guy who lived alone in the house there. I was sure he could help. I banged on his door and he answered in pajamas and a ratty robe.

“What's the matter?” he said.

“My parents and their friends. They're...” I started sobbing. “I don't know what's wrong. I think they want to kill me. I don't know. Please help.”

He got a terrified look on his face. He started breathing heavily and looking around. I was confused.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

He started sobbing too. “My victim,” he said,“I buried him,” he pointed at the ground, “Down there. He suffered.”

I didn't wait for him to explain. I ran away. I decided to run down to the house at the very end of the street. I don't know why. For some reason, I thought whoever lived there could help me. I banged on the door and a guy who looked like he was in his early twenties answered.

“What do you want?” he asked me.

I was really panicking but I managed to explain what happened with my parents, their friends and the old guy across the street.

“Shit!” the guy said. “All right, come in here.”

I went in and closed the door behind me. The guy walked over to the hallway and shouted down it. Another guy who looked about the same age came into the living room. The first guy told him what I said to him.

“Fuck!” the second guy said. “It's happening sooner than we thought it would!”

“What? What's happening?” I said.

“Never mind,” the second guy said. “Just wait here, we'll be back in just a sec.”

The two guys went down the hall. I stood there in the living room for about ten minutes, but it seemed like forever. The two guys came back wearing backpacks and one of them was carrying a briefcase.

“All right, let's get going,” the first guy said. “Open the door.”

I felt safe with these two for some reason. They were like cool big brothers. I turned around, opened the door and stepped outside. It took me a moment to process what I saw.

Everyone in the neighborhood was outside and in the street. They were all naked and having sex. Very violent sex. The first man and woman I saw, the woman had stuck her fingers in the man's eye and was rooting around in the bleeding hole. While she was doing that, the man was beating her face and smashing her head on the asphalt. Another was tearing his woman's ears off while she bit off his lips. All around them, there were huge puddles of this white fluid that looked like semen.

I just froze and gaped at the scene in front of me. Then, in the blink of an eye, everyone and the white fluid disappeared without a trace. Dumbfounded, I turned around to the two guys. Right before my eyes they turned into naked women. Before I could react, they disappeared like the others. The things they were carrying were gone too.

It was all too much. I just curled up in a ball on the ground and cried. I don't know how long I was sitting there crying when the police cars pulled up. One of cops ran up to me and asked me if I was hurt. Somehow I was able to raise my head enough to shake it.

The cops took me down to the station and asked me what happened. I ran down everything from my parents and their friends to everyone disappearing. One of the cops looked at another with a confused look on his face.

“There must be something seriously wrong with this boy,” he said.

“Hey, I don't see a reason not to believe him,” the other cop said. “We searched that whole damn street and didn't find a trace of anyone but this kid. That many people just up and disappearing? Something weird happened there.”

They never found my parents or anyone else who disappeared. I got sent to a foster home. Somehow, I managed to have a mostly normal life afterwards. However, I haven't had a single good night's sleep since.

I still wonder what the hell happened. What made my parents act like that? Where did they all go? Did something take them? Why didn't it take me too? Did it leave me behind on purpose, or was it a mistake?

And if it was, will it come back for me?

Horror Month

Hi kids!

I love a good horror story. It's October. So why not do a Horror Month?

Every Sunday this month I'll have a horror story up. I'll leave it up to you to determine whether they're good or not. Plus, I'll have at least one review of a horror book. Possibly more.

So, until this Sunday let this tide you over.