More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V

[Freeky]

Nope, they're totally thparkaley!

[Don Coyote]

Nope, they're totally thparkaley!

FUCKING GAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[Wyldkat]

Nice.

Thanks.

Not bad at all.

I'd say a bit... declarative?  Um.  In a way, not vague enough.  It's not the "show, don't tell" problem.  It's... wossname.  Needs more vague, alluded-to horror.  Or pointing at some distant, un-named truth.  Or something.

But maybe that's just me.  Refer to ECH's take on first person Nessie for clarification.

Still, good job, and thanks for jumping in.

I've read the whole thread from start to finish.  Love this thread...

I'll think on it.  This popped up because I was wondering how the nessies could coordinate over distances.  I was trying to think from their perspective.  Good/Bad is all relative after all.  Might go back and edit it if I can figure out what to tweak.

The other idea that was bouncing around was the hive mind concept that someone else had mentioned earlier.  I was trying to go for a leaders and drones type feel, but I don't think I got it very well.

We're kind of not explaining about Nessies.  Or, if people choose to, we're letting contradictions stand in the publication, because eye witness testimony is notoriously shit.

Oh, I know that, I did read the thread.  The nessies just caught in my head and I started wondering about how they worked and that was what happened.  I tried not to put in anything too descriptive, at least not physcially.  If you want me to change anything I can.

Nope.  If I throw yours in an issue (and, obviously, you agree to the terms), I may edit it...If I do, I will run the finished bits past you for your approval.  Other than that, this is open source horror.

I'm fine if you want to publish it, screen name or real name doesn't matter to me.

Hadn't thought about the horror aspect of it specifically.  Although the horror is amazing it was the critters that stuck in my head. {thinking of the original Alien}  I can see where not knowing anything about the baddies is a good thing, I was obviously thinking along different lines.

[Don Coyote]

Although now that I think of it.

Which is more horrifying?

The thing making people disappear that you never really even glimpse at.

OR

The seemingly normal human that does unspeakable acts in a seemingly rational manner?


That line of thought might have inspired me.

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

He stumbled down the alley, wrinkling his nose and grimacing at the stench before he remembered it was more likely to be himself than the filth leaking out of over-stuffed bins. Rubbish collectors hadn't been by, which was strange. Every bum knew the bin men come at 9 sharp on Tuesdays in this part of town, so they'd best do their picking over before then. The collectors for this route were mean ones, just as willing to slap a fellow with a crowbar for poking around as look at him.

But if they were slacking off then he had time to do a quick look-through for a bit of breakfast. That made him smile. Brekky was the best meal of the day, his mum had been fond of saying. Though the soft-boiled eggs she'd favored had been ghastly.

Spotting a likely bin at the far end of the row (one with a tight lid so the flies couldn't get a the treasures inside) he shuffled along, eyes on the prize. He fetched up against the side, wheezing a bit. Alley ways were always longer when you wanted to be at the other end in a hurry, he thought with a bit of petulance. And damn the bum ankle, blazing like a fury for so little work. But no matter, brekky time!

He pried open the lid and set it aside quietly. Nothing ruined a breakfast more than being chased off by some toe-rag with a baseball bat and fancy slippers. His thick, numb fingers fumbled with the tie around the garbage bag. It was quicker to just tear the bag open.

Success! Right on top, no less than half a roast with the potatoes and all besides. And only a little mucked up with a few specks of what looked like kitty litter. Easy enough to pick off if there wasn't much of it.

A metallic thunk and sliding noise made him turn around, ready to defend his breakfast from the bin men. But it wasn't them, no. It was a giant headless snake, forever long and thick as his torso reaching up, up, and towards him. Taller than he and smelling twice as foul. He tried to scream but nothing came out.

The thing, quick as a whip, flickered through the air. It wrapped around him, slick and rough as it slide and squeezed. Then there was no air to scream as it lifted him higher, carried him towards the opening as it withdrew. And now he saw the rubbish collector's truck, empty and abandoned in the next alley. Trash and blood strewn everywhere - it had to have made some noise for all that mess, where were all the people? Why did no one rescue him?

Where . . . ?

But he was being pulled down and could see nothing but the hole that was too small to fit both him and whatever held him.

A crack in the air and a sting on his forehead . . . then nothing. He was dead as the creature pulled him below, snapping his spine in half and tearing his skull free of his neck in its eagerness to enjoy its own breakfast.

ETA: Didn't like the last bit, upon reflection.

[LMNO]

Although now that I think of it.

Which is more horrifying?

The thing making people disappear that you never really even glimpse at.

OR

The seemingly normal human that does unspeakable acts in a seemingly rational manner?


That line of thought might have inspired me.

I think I dropped something like this near the beginning. One of the debunkers, or something.

[Adios]

Journal found by scout team. Tunnel 13, after unexplained explosion.

New journal entry.

We have been down here so long that the light hurts my eyes. We tried to go topside earlier, so we know. Maybe after dark.

We am pretty sure we am insane, we left the Payne army so very long ago, and have been alone ever since. At first they were leaving us supplies, but after a while that stopped, so now we scavenge for what we need. Weapons are easy, the dead have no use for them. Food is a problem though. Can't eat the critters, and even the human dead are so infected with their vile poison. We get by though, oh yes we do, the nessies aren't the only ones who have learned to feed on the slow, oh no!

The bastards can't even smell us anymore, We keep some of their goo spread all over me, hahahahahahaha, they aren't so damn smart. We found this nice little hole in the wall that is way too small for them to even look in, some nights we just watch the beasties slither by, other nights we kill them, if we're bored. 

We had to discard my armor long ago, it was starting to corrode and make squealing noises, damn near got us killed. It wasn't that great after all. Clothes and shoes we get from the same place that we get my food. Hehehehe.

We can hear them singing now, that means death, death for both sides, life for us. See, when this happens we get to move around more freely. Nobody will watch back here. We am pretty sure we have found a home nest. Only a few stay to watch the young, silly beasties.

We have slowly been placing explosives in the nest. You have to make sure there is a lot of goo on you and you have to move slowly and very quietly. Once we walked right up behind one of them and whispered at it. Hahahahahaha. Stupid bastards.

One more charge near the door and then I am going to set it all off! Gonna make a big hole topside though. Hehehehehehehe. Stupid fuckers. All they used to say was keep it secret, no one must know. HAHAHAHAHAHA.

Shhhh... they will hear us.


We can't even count the young in the nest, just too damn many of them. Hehehe, until tonight, hehehehehehe.

Shhh!

We have all the charges connected and set to go off at the same time, the one tonight will be set on a trip wire in the main entrance. Hehehehehe. That way we will get some of the returning warriors. Bastards.

We might even get out in one piece too. Don't know where we would go after that though, damn sure can't go topside. OHO! We'll worry about that after won't we!

We should shave first, don't you think? But what do we have to shave with? All our blades have too much venom on them. Ahhhh, never mind.

What was our name? We can't remember because we haven't needed a name in so long. Well, maybe some of the soldiers can figure that out later, not important right now.

We have to go now, the bastards just went by on their way to kill soldiers, just one last charge. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

JOURNAL ENDS HERE

Recording from ops room

"Who the hell was this guy?"

"Beats me, but he sure did blow a hole in the city, how are they going to explain that one?"

"Oh, they already have, something about a huge methane build-up. About a hundred people died in the blast."

"Damn, this guy must have it packed in pretty tight."

"Yeah, oh well, let's get this sent on up to the top honchos and get it off our plate."

"Yeah."

[Luna]

Fuck, Charley.

Awesome.

[Dysfunctional Cunt]

Damn Charley, that was great! 

[Adios]

Thanks guys. 

[East Coast Hustle]

   The darkness vibrated with sound.  She could feel it all over her body, but particularly through her feet and that was what she was paying attention to currently.  Part of the brilliant vibrations she felt were from the song of her pack.  She could feel them shifting behind her, slowly growing more impatient, but it wasn't time yet.  They would have to keep waiting for awhile longer.  She looked back at them, the darkness of the Below only allowing faint outlines of black against black.  They were all good fighters, most veterans of many hunts.  Her song shifted expressing her pride in them and theirs warped to match hers.  Pleased that spirits were high she went back to concentrating on the vibrations of the Below.
   She could feel the very faint vibrations of her sister Alpha's pack even with the distance between them.  It wasn't the part of the song her ears could hear, but the deep subsonics that communicated across long distances.  She tuned in to that sensation, readjusting her weight on her haunches, settling in for the wait.  It was one of her sister's pack that was acting as scout this hunt, lying in wait for the next group of armored Above creatures that they knew would eventually venture out into the Below.  The other Alpha was close enough to feel the alert from the single scout and then her pack would sing the signal alerting the other group with the vibrations.
   Her pack was to feast on the first, smaller group while her sister's pack took the larger group by surprise from behind.  They were each expecting to lose about half of their respective packs on this hunt, but there should be much meat to bring back to the den.  It would be a satisfying fight with good rewards.
   Suddenly the strumming deep vibrations shifted urgency and she rose off the ground, changing her song to her pack as she did.  They all rose in unison, their singing mutating to merge with hers, matching it, alerting her sister Alpha that they had received her message.  She led them through the passages in search of their quarry, feeling for the vibrations of metal on artificially made stone and allowing them to guide her to her goal, her song taking on an exhilarated fighting edge and her pack matching her in song and movement.  Nothing could possibly surpass the joy of an Alpha leading her pack on the attack.

My opinion may be colored by the fact that you're a smelly pagan from a pack of shitbirds and I don't like you at all, but...


I'd appreciate it if you'd stay the fuck off of my story arc. Thanks. You can do what you want, as this is an open-source project, but I'm asking.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Damn, Charley!   

[Adios]

Damn, Charley!   

My mind ain't right, is it?

[Luna]

Damn, Charley!   

My mind ain't right, is it?

May not be right, but I like the kinda wrong it is. 

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

The party had gone tits up the moment "Clowns For Christ" had shown up. Cake, punch, balloons, and plastic smiles were all fine. But sodding clowns?

Petie dropped to the ground behind a huge tree with a thud and leaned his head back against the trunk. He was mussing up his carefully combed and gelled hair which would make his mother mad, especially when she saw the stains on his good clothes.

"Clowns For Christ" had been the entertainment at every one of his birthdays since he could remember. It had been his mother's idea, of course. But his father hadn't argued. Now his father was dead, his older brother had left, and at ten years old Petie was man of the house.

And his mother still thought clowns were appropriate.

He pulled out a cigarette he'd stolen from his dad's nightstand and lit it with a shaking hand. Men did manly things, grown-up things. They drank Scotch and smoked and made odd comments that made ladies laugh and lean closer. They did not entertain their friends with clowns.

The swish of footsteps running through the park's untidy grass startled him into dropping the cigarette on his pants. Swearing, he brushed it into the grass and fumbled it back up to his lips in an attempt to look cool once he realized it was only Lizzie and not his mother.

"What kind of punter skips his own party?" She demanded, hands on the hips of her blue party dress. "Your mum is awfully upset."

"Well then that's two of us," he muttered, taking a drag and trying not to cough.

Lizzie wrinkled her nose and then sat down beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched. "Are you sad because your dad ran away?"

Petie glared. Then coughed and spat out the filter he'd bitten off the cigarette.  "My dad did not run away. He's dead."

"That isn't what my mum said. She said your mum was just making up stories because if he were dead, why weren't we invited to the funeral?"

"There wasn't one. There was no body. We got a jar of ashes and a note delivered by a man in uniform saying there'd been an accident."

"You're lying."

"Fine then, go back to the clowns, hag."

Lizzie punched his arm. "Your dad worked on the subway. His name wasn't in the list of victims from the tunnel collapse a few weeks ago. And we saw him after that, in London."

"It was a week ago, not last month. He was delivering supplies to repair the collapse. He'd been doing it since the tunnel caved in."

"Did more of the tunnel fall? I thought the repairs were going spot on?"

Petie pulled out another cigarette and tried again. Once you got past the awful taste and the stench, they were great for calming the nerves.

"The only reason mum could use this park was because she cried at the new attendants at the entryway. All the parks are being closed down. The curfew is being enforced with guns. My dad came home one night, two weeks into repairs and he was whiter than glue. He didn't kiss mum hello, he didn't mess up my hair.

He got into the shower with his clothes still on and stayed there all through supper. Mum made me go to bed early and then I heard her and dad talking. Mum got hysterical a few times. Said we'd go stay with Aunt Lottie out in the country. After that I didn't hear anything. But dad came home white-faced every night after that. Then one day he didn't come home and the next day there was a man in uniform with a jar of ashes."

"What was your dad doing?" Lizzie demanded.

"I don't know. One time, after dinner, he came into the living room while I was watching telly and told me to look after mum, that he had seen horrible things and didn't know if he could keep seeing them. He said men were disappearing down below. Entire crews. He kept talking about stuff until Mum came in and shooed me off to bed like I was a kid."

They sat in silence for a long minute, listening to the faded sounds of Petie's birthday party.

"I'm sorry about your dad, Petie. And your mum is daft, with the clowns."

"Thanks. I'm sorry I called you a hag."

"That's okay, can I have a drag of your cigarette?"

ETA: Fixing redundant word usage.