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Seeing.


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#1 SquigPie

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Posted 16 June 2010 - 18:50

A short story that's been running in my head for some time. So I finally got together and wrote it.

here's the prologue. Next chapter will be up soon.

Younger readers are discouraged to read it. It's disturbing and bleak as hell.

Seeing

Mathias S. Kristensen.

And I looked out,
and beheld a valley of corpses,
only ash and decay,
And as i looked upon the corpses, they seemed to smile.
for they had not died alone,
they had died in union,
their screams in perfect symphony,
their pain shared as brothers,
their blood mixed as family,
The dead are no longer lonely,
the living are more lonely than ever



"I used to be a postman. Just carrying mail from place to place. It was getting sorta pointless of course, damn emails and SMS' ruined it. Soon they would've probably started finding some mysterious high-tech way, to send packages over the internet as well. Until then, well, packages was pretty much the only thing left to do.

I had wife and kids too.

I remember the day it happened.

She (my wife) was out in the kitchen making dinner (don't take this the wrong way! We both had jobs, we both took separate turns to cook dinner. It was simply her turn!) While me and Jason (my 14 year old boy), where watching the football game.
I remember looking at him, and him looking at me. I remember my body turning into a machine, I remember my sons eyes going blurry, and him starting to weep, I remember weeping myself.
I remember smashing his head in with bottle, as he desperately tried scratching my face.
I remember my wife screaming in horror as she ran into the living room. I remember the scream quickly turning into one of intense rage and, I do believe, sorrow, as she attacked me with the kitchen knife. I remember screaming inside my own head, as I tore open the throat of the love of my life.
Seeing her life pass away with every drop of blood,
I remember my 8-year-old daughter coming down to see what was going on,
I remember kicking her again, and again, and again in her little head as she bit me in the leg.
I remember her golden hair becoming red with blood and grey with brainmass.

I remember coming to my senses, looking around in horror at what I had done, my body had not been my own, I were like a ghost, unable to interfere, merely watched as something killed my loved ones..
Only that thing was me.
And I remember going catatonic, becoming a shell, just hearing the sound of that very thing, going on in every other house in the street,
Everybody killing each other.
When I went out on the street much later, everything was silent. Corpses lay strewn around, I remember calling out again and again and again.
Suddenly my calling was answered.
My neighbour Tim came out, his clothes red with blood.
I remember killing him too.

So humanity died.

Nobody really expected it to be like this though.

How could they?

No nukes, no aliens, no war, no plague, not even goddamn zombies.

We all just started killing each other.

One day, in the blink of an eye, all over the world. We turned into crazed murderers at the mere sight of another human.

No people to badass or lucky to avoid the effect. No immunes or military guys holed up in a bunker.

Everyone, everywhere.

Including me."

Edited by SquigDR, 16 June 2010 - 18:54.

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As long as the dark foundation of our nature, grim in its all-encompassing egoism, mad in its drive to make that egoism into reality, to devour everything and to define everything by itself, as long as that foundation is visible, as long as this truly original sin exists within us, we have no business here and there is no logical answer to our existence.
Imagine a group of people who are all blind, deaf and slightly demented and suddenly someone in the crowd asks, "What are we to do?"... The only possible answer is, "Look for a cure". Until you are cured, there is nothing you can do.
And since you don't believe you are sick, there can be no cure.
- Vladimir Solovyov

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#2 Brad

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Posted 16 June 2010 - 20:49

A few mistakes here and there, regarding grammar (could be intentional, mind you), but otherwise an interesting read.
I also love the bits of dark humour here and there, makes the story a tad more interesting to read.

Just remember the proof-read your stories for small grammar mistakes.

I'll be interested to see where you go with it.
You almost did, didn't you?

#3 Major Fuckup

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Posted 03 September 2010 - 12:46

Is its just me or did that put a a smirk on your face? reading about how some one can't control them selves?

I question the general assumption that i am inherently deficient in the area of grammar and sentence structure

#4 SquigPie

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Posted 03 September 2010 - 13:05

Eh?

Anyway, I'll continue writing on this. next chapter should be out some time.

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As long as the dark foundation of our nature, grim in its all-encompassing egoism, mad in its drive to make that egoism into reality, to devour everything and to define everything by itself, as long as that foundation is visible, as long as this truly original sin exists within us, we have no business here and there is no logical answer to our existence.
Imagine a group of people who are all blind, deaf and slightly demented and suddenly someone in the crowd asks, "What are we to do?"... The only possible answer is, "Look for a cure". Until you are cured, there is nothing you can do.
And since you don't believe you are sick, there can be no cure.
- Vladimir Solovyov

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#5 GuardianTempest

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Posted 04 September 2010 - 03:12

Disturbing? Nah, something like an RP intro to me. Also: Subliminal Messaging upgrade is complete.
OC's and stuff
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#6 Sgt. Nuker

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Posted 04 September 2010 - 13:46

I can hear the wind rustling through the street, scattering the dust over the tarmac. The vacant houses, the stench of rotting flesh rising in the air. I can see the lawns turning brown because no one's there to maintain them. The highways have stopped and have become an eerily desolate place. It's almost like the opening to Terminator, minus the machines. At least, this was the imagery floating around in my head when I read the prologue.
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#7 SquigPie

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Posted 16 November 2010 - 18:15

Well, next chapter up for tommorow, after having hammered a nail into my hand after every day where I didn't write, I've managed with to write the next chapter with one and a half hand.

EDIT:

Yay! It's here at last!

Chapter 1

“That’s all?”

“Yes. That’s…” Martin’s raspy voice halted for a minute, “That’s all”


It all started as a couple of papers and signs spread out over the city, Henric got that idea. He survived the effect due to being a social misfit, he spent most of his time playing computer, and thus first noticed something was wrong 5 hours after The Effect stroke (what they named the killer trance), when he was on way down to the grocery to buy milk. Perhaps the innumerable dead bodies and bloodsoaked streets gave him a clue, or perhaps it was the smashed windows and brains/intestines/something strewn across the sidewalk? He couldn’t quite remember.
He remembered running down the street yelling for survivors and carefully analysing the surroundings…Or perhaps he ran around panicking while screaming like a little girl flailing his arms around? Did really matter? What mattered was that he (through a series of events he couldn’t quite remember), had figured out that The Effect didn’t activate by merely hearing someone. So as long as both parts didn’t have visual contact, they could speak together.
Henric silently chuckled, even in the blackest deepest pit of hell, someone always had to laugh, someone had to see the joke in things, someone…
No, no, it wasn’t right, he had lost everyone, everything, all his dreams and work was but drops in the rain, to fall and splat, noone ever giving them a second thought, no significance or recognition or rewards or promotions or feeling or meaning or happiness or children or family or friends or love or compassion or enlightenment or contact or sex or awards or speeches or passion or walks or movies or games or books or songs or music or laughter or point in it all or WHERE IS THE JOKE IN THAT HAHAHA VERY FUNNY ISN’T IT?
No,
Don’t break down now, you have the others now, remember?
You’re not alone anymore.
Henric focused again, focused on the voices of the other people in the room, Martin had just finished his story. The others were discussing it right now, trying to cheer him up (As much as a group of people who’d recently murdered their loved ones could cheer someone up).
Henric was an architect, so he was used to planning and constructing. He choose an old catholic cathedral as the location for his project, He cleared the middle floor of benches, and used the confessionals to build a small structure in the middle. The result was a 10-way confessional, where 10 people could sit in each their little room, and talk to the others while having zero visibility of them. Afterwards he spread out the papers in the dead of night, each one, containing information on where, and when, to meet. He set one up in every different district of the town, at places were they were easy to see. Each paper had a different time, so that no one would end up running into each other in the church.
He then waited.
And waited.
For the first week, no one came. Henric was beginning to panic, had no one noticed the papers? Was he the only one left?
The second week, no one came, He had almost completely lost hope now, was he the only one left? Was everyone dead? NO! He couldn’t be the only one, there had to be someone else! There just…had to.
The third week in silence, now he spent most of his time weeping profoundly while sitting in his confessional.
One last time he called out
His voice at the breaking point,
And someone spoke back
The voice of a young girl named Clara.
And they talked.
As the weeks passed, more voices joined them in their requiem of society.
Martin was new, and as a new member, he had to talk.
Talk about the first hours.
Everyone had their own story to tell.
Clara, an uptown girl whom had been the last woman standing between her and her 3 room-mates, according to her she was lucky enough to be wearing a fruit-knife when The Effect struck.
Ernest, an elderly man, and while his voice had been hard to hear through profuse crying, and a heavy accent, it was apparent that he’d been with his wife for 50 years when it happened. He said that the fact that he had nothing to bury was the worst thing.
Ian, some uptown fuck, he strictly denied any attempt from the others to make him tell his story. Instead preferring to make sarcastic comments when the others spoke, calling himself “The Sole Voice of Logic and Reason”. Henric hated Ian, he sometimes fantasised about sneaking into Ian’s confessional with a meat cleaver and let The Effect do the rest. He was sure the others wouldn’t complain, they hated him as well, they just never said anything about it.
There was also Martin, whose story the group just heard.
And finally; a young couple, Annabelle and Steven, who were just about to tell their story.

“I’ll do it” Steven said stuttering, and after a few seconds repeated himself, this time more determined, “I’ll do it!”
“Darling, No please, I-I can’t take it, not again. I don’t want to go through it again!” Annabelles said.
“We have too! I’m sorry bu-“ his voice broke, after a few minutes where the only sound was Annabelle’s uncontrolled sobbing.
“We had a baby girl” total silence rang throughout the church room after these words. Steven’s voice was forced and hollow.
“She was only 4 weeks old. Christ! She wasn’t even baptised! It…
It was supposed to be here.
I was in the kitchen when it happened, Annabelle was alone with her, inside the living room. She…She…I heard a scream, my little baby girl’s scream, she sounded so terrified. And then…
Silence.
I hurried in there.
Just as I entered the room I heard the bathroom door shut and lock.
Blood
Blood everywhere.
And a small, so small, lumb of meat.
Just meat.
That’s what she had been reduced to,
Meat.
I kept hitting the bathroom door, but…she wouldn’t open up, I kept screaming, kept asking “Why?! Why did you do it?” But all I got for an answer was sobbing, oh Ann, if only I had known!”
“It’s okay Steven. You couldn’t possibly have known” Annabelle said.
“I ran outside looking for help. It was just chaos out there, everyone killing one another. There was this one little man standing on the top of a car, he wore in fine clothes and everything. His guts hanging out of a gaping wound in his stomach, he kept kicking this other guy in the head, even though his face was just a mess of blood and flesh, the guy kept trying to crawl up on the car! People jumped out 4th floor windows just to get down there faster, they just started pushing themselves forward when their legs broke! It was… it was…
Hell.
I fought too, luckily I’m pretty strong and…well, they were mostly dead already.
It took, a couple of hour perhaps? I don’t know, it was a cloudy day, and I kinda lost track of the time during all the…well…
I ran back up afterwards, I opened the door to the apartment slightly, yelled at Ann to stay inside the bathroom, I wasn’t hurt very much, only a few bruises…”
“What, you came out to find a street filled with people in psychotic rage, and you wasn’t even hurt?!” The signature cynical voice of Ian said, Henric silently reminded himself to bring a meat cleaver next time.
“No, wait, you’re right, I gotten torn up pretty badly out there. I was in shock…I…I just didn’t register it, I- sat down at the bathroom door and wept, bruises and wounds everywhere! I…I…”
“It’s okay Steven, it’s okay”, Henric said. His voice was tired and worn, the story only reinforced his depression. His confessional felt claustrophobic, he wanted to burst out of it, to hug Clara and confess his love for her, for the effect to be destroyed by the power of love, for them to cry of happiness as they kissed passionately, for the others to clap and cheer, for all the pain to go away.
Either that or rape her.
He wasn’t sure which it was, he had trouble distinguishing his emotions from each other these days.
The short daydream cheered him up a bit.
“Henric, there was something I wondered about…” Clara’s frail voice said.
“Yes?” He answered, feeling a glimmer of hope.
“The Effect only reacts on sight, right?” She said.
“I think so, yes.” Henric smiled, he was pretty sure he knew what she was about to say.
“Then maybe if Steven and Annabelle something to cover their eyes they could…well, meet.” She said with a slight chuckle.
“That might be true, I don’t think it reacts on touch.” Henric said enthusiastically.
“So they could meet and, you know, repopulate the world…” Martin whistled.
“Oh! Great, we can repopulate the world with blind people!” Ian bemoaned, Henric twitched, and considered bringing the meat hammer as well next time.
“Shut up Ian!” The others said in chorus, Henric smiled, happy that the finally had gotten enough of Ian’s chronic assholism.
“I’m not sure, it’s a bit of a risk, what if they tore off the eye cover by accident?” Ernest said.
“It’s a risk but…” Steven said, “But we have to take it. Ann, are…Are you… are you with us?”
After a short silence, a determined Annabelle answered. “Yes, I’m prepared”
They spent the next few hours planning the meeting. Martin (who lived near Annabelle and Steven), was to sit in the room next door, and he was going to report back in case the experiment…failed.
For the first time in a long while, Henric felt hope.

Edited by SquigPie, 27 December 2010 - 23:51.

Quote

As long as the dark foundation of our nature, grim in its all-encompassing egoism, mad in its drive to make that egoism into reality, to devour everything and to define everything by itself, as long as that foundation is visible, as long as this truly original sin exists within us, we have no business here and there is no logical answer to our existence.
Imagine a group of people who are all blind, deaf and slightly demented and suddenly someone in the crowd asks, "What are we to do?"... The only possible answer is, "Look for a cure". Until you are cured, there is nothing you can do.
And since you don't believe you are sick, there can be no cure.
- Vladimir Solovyov

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#8 SquigPie

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Posted 27 December 2010 - 23:50

Gee, sure is happy to see so much response :xD:,

Short one this time, next one will be the last.

Chapter 2

Where are they?
Henric held out two of his fingers and pulled back his thumb, he put the put them in his mouth, and slammed his thumb down on them, being slightly depressed when no bullet painted a crimson splash across the wall.
Henric was getting frustrated, where was Steven, Ann and Henric? They were supposed to meet here, and they were late! Ian had been bitching for the last 2 hours about how humanity was doomed and how the other’s should just admit it, and Henric had forgotten the meat cleaverWHY HAD HE FORGOTTENTHE MEAT CLEAVER?! He had been too busy masturbaoNOHEDIdnt he just sat and thought about kife and death all night and he didn’t – think about it at all no he so alone biut have others no needto panic at hall.

Stop!

Henric closed his eyes and let all the bad thoughts run.

Concentrate,

Focus,

Breathe,

He slowly breathed in, took his time to come together, and then opened his eyes again.

“…fucking stupid! This isn’t right at all, really? BLINDFOLD SEX? That’s your hope spot? Your plan to “Repopulate the world”? Fuck, I’ve seen better plans in soap operas! At least have some fucking imagination!” Ian’s voice penetrated Henric’s ears. Henric felt that old madness come over him again, but successfully beat it down, instead deciding to talk the monster to death.

“Who cares if it’s simple? As long as it works!”
“But it doesn’t fucking work! You know why?” Ian shouted in frustration.
“Because NOIDONTFUCKINGSPITITOUT!” Henric screamed
“Because non of this is real” Ian said quirtly.
“What?” Ian’s words hit Henric like a sledgehammer, he sat for a second trying to comprehend it. Ian continued:
“This is all a dream, all of this…just me being insane, me…thinking these people into life. Truth is, I’m all alone, just me…sitting alone, and in my loneliness I gave birth to this…scenario, to give myself hope.” He paused, for a second.
“But it’s not real.
I am alone”

“You’re not alone, Ian” Clara said.
“This is real” Henric hissed, his voice simmering with anger “This is real, all of it.”
“I want to believe you’re real” Ian whispered “But…I can’t, It wouldn’t be right, this isn’t right at all, it’s not real, just…A daydream of the last man on earth”
“Shut up…” Henric murmured, “Shut up, just…SHUT UP! I CAN’T STAND YOU! YOU PESSIMISM! YOUR ENDLESS RANTS! WHY DID YOU EVER HAVE TO SHOW UP HERE?! WHY!? TELL ME THE FUCK WHY!?”
He broke down, for a few minutes, he just sat and wept with his head in his arms, the others were silent.
“It’s all…” he thought to himself “it’s all…shit anyway”
The sound of a door being opened rang throughout the church, footsteps, slow, sagging, drew closer and closer. Another sound this time it was the confessional door being opened.
“Hello” Martin said, his voice grave and cold.
“It didn’t go well, did it?” Clara said, almost uncaring.
No it didn’t, notat all no
“I sat in the room next to them, listening to them, it all seemed fine. A little talk from the room, then I started hearing (what I guessed was) skin caressing skin, just as I was about to leave (I’m no voyeur, I didn’t want to sit there and listen to them…fuck), I heard…felt death coming through the room, I could feel his presence, right in front of me, a pale man dressed in black, he walked right past me, and into the room next door.
Then silence,
Then yelling,
Then a loud thumping noise.
Then dripping,
And then…
Sobbing,
After about 10 minutes I heard creaking and a loud bump. I walked in there, Annabelle was laying on the bed, her head bashed in. A mixture of brain matter, hair and blood was splattered all over the room. Steven were hanging from the ceiling, the pain must’ve been too much.
The Effect apparently works by touch too.” Martin finished.
Henric wasn’t surprised, he had, deep inside, known this. Martin’s tale had only reinforced his certainty.
“At least now, we know” He said.
“…And knowing is half the battle!” Ian said. A short nervous laughter spread amongst them.
They spent the next 30 minutes talking about GI Joe.

Quote

As long as the dark foundation of our nature, grim in its all-encompassing egoism, mad in its drive to make that egoism into reality, to devour everything and to define everything by itself, as long as that foundation is visible, as long as this truly original sin exists within us, we have no business here and there is no logical answer to our existence.
Imagine a group of people who are all blind, deaf and slightly demented and suddenly someone in the crowd asks, "What are we to do?"... The only possible answer is, "Look for a cure". Until you are cured, there is nothing you can do.
And since you don't believe you are sick, there can be no cure.
- Vladimir Solovyov

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#9 Brad

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Posted 28 December 2010 - 00:15

Expecting a reply to a writings forum topic is a silly thing to expect.

No-one does that much.

Edit: will comment on the actual story another time.

Edited by Brad, 28 December 2010 - 00:15.

You almost did, didn't you?



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