Nightmarish Reaction – Deadly Sense (Part 1)

DISCLAIMER:

This book contains graphic and disturbing scenes. Content may be controversial in nature and may not be appropriate for younger readers; therefore, you must be eighteen or older. 

Point of views made by the characters in this story does not reflect the sole views of the author. The author and the publishing company shall have neither liability. Nor responsibility to any person or entity for any loss, damage caused or actions caused, or alleged to have been caused directly or indirectly, by the content contained in this book.

All rights are reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means (electronically, mechanically, photocopied, recorded, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.


Spoilers up ahead. If you hate spoilers, don’t continue. >:[


DEADLY SENSE (PART 1)

 

“My mom is downstairs. She will be here any minute now, so fix yourself up,” I said, throwing his clothes at him.

Lathyrus attempted to hide his bizarre deformity–a pair of small, apple-sized breasts.

“Did you ever tell her anythin’ ’bout us?” he asked, covering himself.

“Not exactly.”

“Fuck.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure out some sob story for you–”

“Like with Mr. Royadie?”

“Fuck no,” I said, pushing him back.

I tried to keep myself calm and my voice low, but it was a lot harder than it looked. How could I explain this to Mom? What would I say first? Where would I begin? If she ever saw Lathyrus and his breasts…it was Game Over for me.

Oh God, what am I going to do?

“My mom’s not like that,” I whispered.

“Oh, really?” Lathyrus moved his head to the side. “You sure are actin’ funny now that you’ve seen ’em–the real me.”

“I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong.”

I pretended to be honky-dory, despite that everything was going to hell in a handbasket. Lathyrus narrowed his eyes at me and dropped his clothing.

“You know I’ve got boobs, but you sure don’t look fine to me,” he said.

I told him the truth. “I don’t care if you have tits, all right.”

“That’s what they all say,” Lathyrus said, in a huff. “Every guy acts like a pervert ’round me when they see I’m a boy with fuckin’ hooters and a penis. Ya’ll think I’m some sex toy to be played with.”

“Titties or not…you’re still my friend, Lathyrus. I’m not like those other guys.”

Lathyrus agreed with me. “Yeah, there’s somethin’ fishy ’bout you too–but I can’t put my finger on it yet. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

I paid no attention to him. “Please, shut up and let me think for a moment.”

I thought long and hard. What can I say to Mom, so she doesn’t freak out?

“Do you know anythin’ ’bout your mom. ‘Bout her life?” Lathyrus asked.

He was still not wearing his clothes nor putting them on.

“No. But she’s not some perv like your friends are…okay. If we play our cards right, we can have her on our side. She may even protect you, if you just go out there and tell her the truth. That much I know about her. She’s very smart and compassionate. Strong too.”

Lathyrus rose to his feet, marched on over, and cornered me. “You really don’t have a clue, do you?”

I bumped in to my closet, trying to avoid eye contact with him. Lathyrus didn’t have anything on, and he seemed angry with me. Did he not care about his appearance? He leaned closer. I felt his breasts, pressing against my flat chest.

My face felt hot all of a sudden. Why hadn’t I noticed it sooner? Why was I so blind to see? Was I that stupid? How long did he keep this a secret for? Lathyrus backed off a little, and then said the strangest thing ever.

“You wanna touch ’em?” he joked.

I shoved him away from me. “No, I don’t want to touch you.”

“Why not?”

Lathyrus quickly grabbed both my wrists and wouldn’t let go. “You know you want to.”

My face was turning bright red and he knew it. I turned my head the other way.

“I-I can’t…”

Lathyrus smirked at me. “You scared?”

“I-I’m not scared.” I gulped. “I’m just nervous. That’s all.”

He held my hands right over his soft tits. “Your face’s all red.”

No shit, Sherlock! I thought, closing my eyes tight.

Lathyrus lifted my chin, and then pinched my right arm hard. He made me look at him–at his breasts. Lathyrus playfully stuck his tongue out and then licked the side of my face, like a wild animal.

“Eww gross. Are you some kind of dog now?” I asked, shuddering at the thought.

“You could say that. At least I ain’t ashamed of my own body,” he whispered in my ear. “I bet you’re a pussy cat, ’cause you’re so delicate and shy. You’re so uncomfortable in your own damn skin.”

My fingers were trembling, since I couldn’t move.

“You can squeeze ’em if you want. If you’re good, I’ll let you suck on one.”

Lathyrus was actually daring me to do it, to squeeze them. “Every man does it at some point in their lives.”

My legs were quivering in anxiousness. I couldn’t stop gawking at his smooth, round breasts; the right tit was larger than the other and his nipples were erect. His boobs were drooping downward as they jiggled a little, once he moved slightly to the left. He was standing on his toes going up and down. Any minute now, I’d faint.

“It’s not so bad once you get the hang of ’em,” Lathyrus added, making his breasts shake in front of me. “Hidin’ ’em is the tricky part. They’re really small–I don’t need a bra or any support.”

I clasped his breasts gently and then he smiled. They were real and warm too; his breasts were the most interesting thing I’d ever seen. Lathyrus stopped what he was doing and lowered my arms for me, because I couldn’t move them. Looking down at my sweaty palms, I thought I had touched something I wasn’t supposed to. I felt like a dirty old man more than anything.

“How’d it–?” I tried to speak, but couldn’t find my voice.

Lathyrus finished my question for me. “How’d it happen?”

I nodded, meekly. Lathyrus noticed I couldn’t stop staring at my shaky hands.

“I think I was born with it–it’s a condition. I can’t remember what it’s called. Street drugs can cause it too, but I think mine’s heredity. Somethin’ in my genes.”

“Have you gone to the doctor to get it…you know, removed?” I asked, putting my hands down to my side.

I wanted to wipe away the odd sensation of his breasts on my shirt and pants, but I didn’t have the heart to do it. By doing that, it would probably hurt his feelings and make Lathyrus think that he was unclean. Besides, deep down inside, I kind of liked it. I’d never admit it to Lathyrus though that I actually enjoyed touching them.

“Surgery doesn’t fuckin’ help. Mr. Royadie has it though, ever since he was a kid like me…and that’s why he’s such an inspiration,” Lathyrus explained to me.

“Mr. Royadie had man boobs when he was younger? Are you fucking serious?” I asked.

“Whatever man. I don’t expect you to understand what I’m goin’ through. He had a lonely life, growin’ up–”

“So, that’s why he’s so angry and mean…and that gives him a reason to flunk students in his class?”

“He’s not like that,” Lathyrus tried to make me understand. “People do mean things all the time when they’re sad. Have you ever been sad before?”

I took a seat on my bed. “Yeah, plenty of times,” I whispered.

Lathyrus sat beside me, crossing his arms. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to judge people.”

“Geez, I get it. Maybe I do feel sorry for the old sap…just a little.”

“You see. We’re not so different after all.”

“Can’t you take medications for it?”

“I can, but it’s expensive and there’s no guarantee it’ll work.”

“Do you know what causes it?” I asked.

“Low testosterone. I’ve got a lot of female hormones. It’s called estrogen or somethin’.”

“Oh, I see. Does it effect other parts of the body as well?” I fumbled with my fingers, trying not to look at him directly.

Lathyrus raised his brow. “No…”

“You sure?”

“What parts are you takin’ ’bout?”

“Forget it.”

“Forget what?”

“It’s nothing.”

“You know, you keep sayin’ that and you don’t act like it’s nothin’.”

“It’s okay, alright.”

“You sound like a broken record, man.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

Lathyrus turned his back to me; he grabbed his shirt and finally started to get dressed. He picked up his pants from off the floor as well. Didn’t watch him, since I was too afraid to look. I covered my eyes and stayed away from him.

“You did see it, didn’t you? I’ve got a penis. Why don’t you take a good look at it while you’re here,” Lathyrus said, looking over his shoulder.

“I saw everything when I was undressing you, even the scars on your back. Where’d you get those?”

“And that made it aight to fuck with me, eh?”

“I didn’t fuck with you. You were fucking with me.”

“Did you have a taste while I was out? Did you like it? You put me in your mouth, didn’t you?”

My face got hotter and hotter. “I would never…do that…”

A hand touched the doorknob and twisted it. Someone opened the door. Lathyrus heard it first and scrambled to hide. Isa stood in front of us watching in silence, out of sheer curiosity.

“Hey Isa,” I whispered, rushing over to her.

I closed the door quietly. Then, picked her up in my arms. I thought I had locked it, but apparently I hadn’t. Must’ve forgotten about that in the heat of the moment, since I was scrambling to get everything back in order for Mom, before she noticed anything was missing.

“Who’s that?” Isa pointed at Lathyrus.

“He’s my friend,” I said. “Please, don’t tell Mommy. Okay?”

Isa nodded eagerly. “Kay.”

She was dressed in her Winnie the Pooh pajamas; Isa handed Teddy over to our new guest, but Lathyrus was slightly confused by it.

“What does she want me to do?” he asked.

I leaned over and whispered in his ear. “She’s introducing you to someone special.”

“Teddy says ‘hi,” Isa said, smiling innocently enough.

My little sister was actually behaving herself, for once in her life. Lathyrus rubbed the back of his head and forced a smile, but he was a still shy with my sister there. I gently placed Isa’s feet on the carpet; she stared upward at Lathyrus and was in awe of his height. Maybe she thought he was the friendly green giant, but Isa wouldn’t stop staring at him.

“She’s never seen anyone like you before,” I said.

Lathyrus raised his brow. “You mean, someone as dark as me?”

“I didn’t mean to say it like that. You do realize we both have the same skin color, right?”

We kept whispering back and forth to one another.

“I dunno, man. You sure she ain’t afraid of me?” Lathyrus asked. “What if she screams?”

“She won’t scream. Why would she be scared of you?”

Isa skipped to Lathyrus and suddenly had her arms wide open.

Lathyrus nudged me in the stomach. “What’s she doin’ now?”

“What does it look like? She wants a hug. Give her one or she’ll be sad,” I explained. “She’s almost six years old for Pete’s sake.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Lathyrus asked, nervously.

“Yeah, just do it. What’s the harm?”

“Remember what I said before, about the touching.”

“Oh…”

“I’ll cover my arms and hands. To be on the safe side.”

“Do whatever you need to do.”

Lathyrus put on his purple sweater and made sure all his bare skin was completely covered; he knelt over to Isa, and gave her a gentle embrace while giving me this worried look on his face. I told Lathyrus everything was fine. Isa kissed his covered neck, luckily it was only the fabric she touched. Lathyrus seemed to take a liking to Isa and blushed as he put my baby sister down on the floor to go on her merry way.

“I love you, buh-bye!” Isa waved at Lathyrus, and then skipped away.

She unlocked my door and closed it on her way out.

“She got that line from a cartoon…” I grinned at him.

Lathyrus seemed sad at that point.

“What’s up?” I asked, touching his shoulder.

“I-I had a brother her age…” Lathyrus said, choking up a little. “She and him are so much alike. They-they could’ve been friends, if he-he didn’t–”

“Pull yourself together, Lathyrus.”

“How can you say that to me, after what I’ve been through?” he asked, moving away from me.

He went toward the window, which seemed so small compared to him, and pulled my polka dotted curtains to the side. Lathyrus stared outside. “My brother would’ve been six this year.”

“What happened to him?”

“He’s dead, aight.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a brother.”

“It’s not somethin’ I tell folks ’bout–the same goes for my fuckin’ condition.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your little brother. You know, I like you the way you are, Lathyrus.”

“Really?”

“It’s the truth. I mean it.”

“You don’t sound like you mean it.”

“What do you want me to do to prove it?”

“How about you kiss me,” he said, turning around.

I took a step back. “I don’t think that would be such a good idea…”

“You can tell me what you see. What happened last time? Where did you go?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You saw something, didn’t you? You’ve seen me in your visions. Zander, can you look inside my mind and view all my memories?”

“I-I don’t know what I saw exactly. It happened way too fast for me to process it.”

“You kiss me–and then, I’ll know the truth of what you see. You can show it to me. You can help me remember.”

“O-kay. I’ll give it a try.” I gulped.

I don’t think it really works out that way, but since he insists on doing it…I might as well give it a shot.

And so, we positioned ourselves closer. I did what he said. His lips felt rough, tasting sour in my mouth.

 

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Nightmarish Reaction – Revisit

DISCLAIMER:

This book contains graphic and disturbing scenes. Content may be controversial in nature and may not be appropriate for younger readers; therefore, you must be eighteen or older. 

Point of views made by the characters in this story does not reflect the sole views of the author. The author and the publishing company shall have neither liability. Nor responsibility to any person or entity for any loss, damage caused or actions caused, or alleged to have been caused directly or indirectly, by the content contained in this book.

All rights are reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means (electronically, mechanically, photocopied, recorded, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.


 


REVISIT

 

Rue stormed into the elevator just as it opened. He pressed a button, without even looking at the numbers on the panel. The delicate eyebrows and the features on his face seemed strained; Rue was annoyed by something as he listened to the upbeat tune overhead on the speaker. He leaned against the wall, filing his nails in anger.

As he reached the second floor, the elevator beeped, and the sliding doors creaked open. Rue was dressed in his dark crimson suit, tie, and pointed shoes––it was not a joyous occasion for him. He stopped at an entrance, knowing exactly where to go. Rue didn’t need to look at the sign above his head, titled: MANAGER’S OFFICE.

Faint breathing sounds came from inside the room; he heard someone moaning. Rue had no intentions of acting like a gentleman this evening, since he wasn’t in a good mood. No time for polite knockings at the door; Rue made himself right at home and twisted the handle, barging in uninvited.

A woman with dirty, blond hair bumped in to him on her way out. Her white blouse and black skirt looked disheveled. She had a pungent scent—she reeked of it. Rue could smell semen on her breath.

“Pardon me, sir,” she said, adjusting the buttons on her outfit. “So sorry.”

Mr. Jefferson zipped up his pants with much disappointment, since Rue had come in unexpected. His face was sweating so much as he wiped his face dry with a tissue. Rue could see drops of whitish fluid on Mr. Jefferson’s mouth and mustache.

“Didn’t think you’d come in today,” Mr. Jefferson said, clearing his throat.

Rue didn’t smile as he took a step forward inside the office; he looked over his shoulder at the woman, fixing her hair and make-up. He glanced back at Mr. Jefferson and gave him an odd smirk; Rue turned around and leaned over. A musky odor filled the air and Rue knew exactly what the two of them were doing in there. They had been fucking this whole time. He saw the guilty expressions on their faces.

“Lisa, did you enjoy sucking his cock?” Rue asked, raising a brow.

“Ex-excuse me?” Lisa didn’t know who Rue was or how he knew her name. But she was caught unaware, like a blind possum about to be struck by a speeding car.

Rue smiled. “Why don’t you take the day off.”

She tried to respond. “Is that––”

Rue slammed the door an inch away from her face, leaving Lisa bewildered and terrified. He took something out of his suit pocket, a small pack of wet wipes. Rue cleaned his hands thoroughly, since his fingers had touched the sticky door handle. He had an inkling that what he touched was quite filthy; Rue threw the towel in the trash bin and gave Mr. Jefferson a cold glare.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Chang. I-I had no idea you’d be arriving. If I’d known, I’d have the agreement ready by now.”

Rue held his hand up to Mr. Jefferson’s face. “Please, shut the fuck up,” he said, trying not to lose his cool. “I wish to bask in your glory and soak in the atmosphere for a moment. By the way, you smell like shit.”

Mr. Jefferson neatly stacked some of the papers on his desk, pretending to look busy at work.

“Who needs a contract these days, eh?” Rue asked, studying the family portraits on a shelf.

He walked around and examined certain details of the room. The blinds concealing the large, tinted windows hadn’t been cleaned in over two months now. Rue trailed his long finger over one of them and rubbed both his thumb and index fingers together. The blinds were all covered in dust, leaving a thick film behind. Rue sighed in disappointment and took out another wet wipe.

The silk, cushioned chairs looked faded and had stains on them.

“These are not Emory Maroon Velvet Chairs, are they?” Rue checked the tag on the seat cushion.

“Lovely! Made in China,” he said, dropping the cushion on the floor.

He massaged his temples in anger. “With the salary you’re making now, it wouldn’t kill you to pay a little extra on the furniture. My, my you are stingy with your money.”

Mr. Jefferson kept his mouth shut in fear of retaliation. Rue leaned over the dark, cherry desk. It had a couple of scratches along the surface, but it wasn’t obvious to Mr. Jefferson since he didn’t care. Rue used his long fingernails and marked the wood, creating an awful scratchy sound. Mr. Jefferson covered both his ears.

After Rue was done clawing the entire desk, he smiled at his nails and blew on them, because they were hot to the touch. Mr. Jefferson gulped, and yet he didn’t say a word. Rue noticed the numerous awards on the wall, displaying Motor Company Corporation as the number one car dealership in town. There were several shelves dedicated in Mr. Jefferson’s honor, including all his trophies for THE HALL OF FAME. However, one picture caught Rue’s eye in particular.

A young Mr. Jefferson from ten years ago. He was standing beside a black Jesus, which included a bible proverb: BY HUMILITY AND THE FEAR OF THE LORD ARE RICHES, HONOR AND LIFE, POVERBS 22:4. Rue rolled his eyes after reading this scripture, seeing as Mr. Jefferson couldn’t spell nor was he a follower of the commandment. He pulled up a clean chair and sat down.

Rue then folded his legs. “You do realize ‘proverbs’ is spelled incorrectly.” He couldn’t stop staring at the blatant error on the wall. It irritated him to no end.

Mr. Jefferson was sweating bullets, wiping his brow with a paper towel. “If it’s about the money that I owe you, Mr. Chang––you sir can have it. All of it.”

“I don’t want money, Mr. Jefferson. I want something from you that’s worth your weight in gold.”

“Just tell me anything––whatever it is, you can have.”

“What an attractive family you have––or should I say, ‘had?’ Such a waste really.” Rue noticed another family picture on Mr. Jefferson’s desk. “My what a handsome boy you have there. Doesn’t he go to that school down the road? What’s it called?”

“There must be something else you want that’s more valuable. My family has nothing to do with our business deals.”

“Ah, yes. Cougar High School. Now, I remember.”

“He’s a senior, who’s going to be a famous football or a basketball player one of these days––he’ll be more popular than Michael Bordan. You’ll see.”

“Really now? You must be so proud.”

“Someday, he’ll be rich and famous. He’s nothing like me.”

“Yes, I know. Unlike his Big Sugar Daddy.”

Rue was disenchanted with this statement, yawning ever so gracefully. He slanted his head to the side. “It’s such a tragedy he’s not yours anymore. He’s how old, again?”

“Uh, um…nineteen. He turned nineteen this year.”

“That’s wonderful news.” Rue said, forming his hands into a triangle. “What’s his new name?”

“Denzell.”

Rue narrowed his eyes. “Is he straight or gay? I’d like to know.”

“He’s um––” Mr. Jefferson paused with hesitation.

“You’d never raise a queer, now would you?”

“He’s straight. No, of course not!”

“Doesn’t he go by another name as well? Oh dear, what was it again?”

Mr. Jefferson couldn’t stop mumbling under his breath.

Rue interrupted his thoughts, leaning his head back over on the chair. “Oh, right! He calls himself Slim. He goes by that nickname, instead of that ridiculous name your wife gave him at birth. He does have a habit of cross-dressing as a girl––I wonder where he got that from, I suppose?”

Beads of perspiration rolled down Mr. Jefferson’s forehead.

“But he’s not living with you anymore, is he? How unfortunate indeed. He doesn’t have your last name either. Kind of like he wasn’t yours to begin with. Am I right?” Rue asked, pretending to look sad.

“No, no. My wife and I divorced years ago. He lives with his mother. She remarried,” Mr. Jefferson said. “His stepfather called him by that name.”

“I see…but does he know you’re still alive? And by the way, he fucking hates his stepfather. You wouldn’t know that, now would you?”

“No, I-I had no idea he didn’t like his stepfather. I hadn’t spoken to him in years––he never talked to me anyway.”

“How fantastic. Your drunken father abandoned you. You grow up and throw away your only son, selling him to the highest bidder. He’s adopted by his stepfather, who then changes the boy’s real name. Is that why you’re fucking your secretary?

By the way, isn’t she married? Did I mention she’s about two years older than your daughter? So, that would make you a pervert, who sleeps around with girls no matter who they are or what their age is. Does any of this ring a bell?”

Mr. Jefferson didn’t know how to reply. Rue filled in the blanks for him.

“Well, she’s technically engaged. But that doesn’t matter to you, now does it? You’ll fuck anything with two legs, isn’t that correct? If it had four legs you’d fuck that too. Please, feel free to respond.”

Mr. Jefferson placed his hands on the desk, fumbling with his fingers. “So, what brings you into my office, Mr. Chang?”

“Your time’s up.”

“I-I thought I had plenty of time.”

“You did. Until, you broke all the rules. The deal was quite clear––you are not allowed to go near Denzell, ever again. Don’t you dare go searching for him. Or did you forget about that as well?

You sold the boy in an auction, so try to forget about him and everyone you love. It’s quite easy to do. Humans are so fickle with their relationships, don’t you agree?”

Mr. Jefferson quickly rose out of his chair. “I don’t have what you need! Can’t we-we make another settlement?”

“Renegotiate?” Rue said, in a deep voice. “If you feel so strongly about it, so be it. Enlighten me.”

“I need more time. You can’t expect me to hand it over like that.”

“Then, I’ll just take what rightfully belongs to me.” Rue pointed to the picture in front of Mr. Jefferson. “How about that cutie over here? I want your son. Is that fucking clear?”

“You can’t do that! We had a pact, you and I!”

“Ah, yes…” Rue got up and then ambled toward the desk, approaching Mr. Jefferson. “How about this then. I’ll take that fine young man off your hands. It’s not like you have a conscience anyhow––” he said, picking up the portrait and touching the face tenderly, “after I have my way with him, then we can call it even. I’ll leave you alone to screw whomever you desire.”

“You can’t do this to me. I love my son. I’ll do anything to stop you! If you harm him, I’ll call the––”

Rue grabbed Mr. Jefferson’s collar so fast, he didn’t know what hit him. “Go ahead and call the police. What are you going to say to them? That you made a deal with the Devil? You call anyone and I’ll kill you right where you stand. As of now, your son doesn’t belong to you anymore. He never existed! In fact, your wife never gave birth to him in this world.”

Mr. Jefferson pleaded with him. “Please, don’t hurt my boy.”

“I won’t hurt him much, besides I think you did enough damage to him already. Now, it’s your turn to help me. Do me a quick little favor, and I’ll think about sparing the life of your beautiful, green-eyed angel.”

“What do…you want…Mr. Chang?” Mr. Jefferson choked.

Rue dropped the pathetic man to the floor and brushed a hand through his fine, soft hair. He towered over Mr. Jefferson. Then, he smiled.

“I’ll tell you what I want in due time. So until then, be on your best behavior.”

Mr. Jefferson trembled as he began to weep in front of the shadowy figure before him. Rue’s yellow eyes reflected no light. He removed Denzell’s portrait from the picture frame and dropped what he didn’t need on the ground; his black shoes stepped on the glass, splintering what may be left of Mr. Jefferson’s weak heart.

Rue Chang strolled out of that room without a care in the world, whistling as he let the door slam shut behind him. His cheerful song could be heard throughout the entire building.

 

Copyright © 2001-2017 by W.D. Lady

Nightmarish Reaction – Projector

DISCLAIMER:

This book contains graphic and disturbing scenes. Content may be controversial in nature and may not be appropriate for younger readers; therefore, you must be eighteen or older. 

Point of views made by the characters in this story does not reflect the sole views of the author. The author and the publishing company shall have neither liability. Nor responsibility to any person or entity for any loss, damage caused or actions caused, or alleged to have been caused directly or indirectly, by the content contained in this book.

All rights are reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means (electronically, mechanically, photocopied, recorded, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.


 


PROJECTOR

 

In a dark, empty theater room Ikeda watched in silence as the scarlet curtains pulled back. Dressed in his finest, green business suit and shoes, he remained seated in the sixth row; Ikeda’s chin rested on his elevated hand as he crossed his legs. His long, red hair reached down to his waist. The projector started running by itself. A large, white screen began to flicker of random images, of people.

The black-and-white film appeared spotted, even grainy at times. A soft melody played in the background; it was the only sound in the entire room. There were no other instruments on stage except a lone, black piano in the center. It looked ancient and covered in dust. As the keys moved on their own, the sad music echoed throughout the darkness.

Ikeda saw their miserable lives, their unhappy memories plastered on the walls and ceilings; his expression was in awe throughout a series of moving pictures. Ikeda curled his lips in satisfaction as he tuned in for his favorite show. He saw a black man and a young boy in the park one day. The boy cried.

As their mouths moved, the scene cut to some dialogue; their words appeared on the black screen.

“I love you so much. Can’t you see it? Don’t you want me? Don’t you love anyone else besides God? Why won’t you try? Don’t you want to live a better life than this one?”

The old man lowered his head and sighed. He soon faded out.

“I can’t do those things. Now, I must leave. Go home, Zander.”

Samuel turned his back on Zander and left the boy to deal with the pain. Zander reached out to the old man as tears streamed down his face. His cries for help were all but ignored, until he keeled over. Hidden behind Old Bridget and tucked away in the shadows, Rue Chang leaned against wall, waiting patiently. The camera had a close-up of his mouth, grinning. He laughed to himself.

“Now, the boy’s heart is mine.”

Rue watched Zander practically go insane with grief. In the scheme of things, they weren’t the only ones Ikeda observed. He watched many others, who struggled on their own. They did the same routines, day in and day out. He saw them working at their lousy jobs for forty or fifty hours a week, just to bring in a meager paycheck. Ikeda didn’t feel empathy nor pity for the humans.

He wondered why any of them would want to spend the rest of their existence, surviving in such horrible conditions. This wasn’t living. They were barely getting by. A lucky few had their dream jobs, but then again, they were filthy rich. Either way, they were so oblivious to the imminent danger that surrounded them.

Ikeda laughed out loud. He watched a girl be beaten to death by her own peers. A metal bat cracked her skull in. The projector flashed bright red. Then, he saw a little boy with dreadlocks, sitting on the street corner, in the pouring rain. He’d been raped by his stepfather that night, and Ikeda happened to see all the disgusting acts the boy had to perform, in order to survive. Rue magically appeared on screen, in a puff of smoke, and extended his hand to the child.

Static erupted. The film rolled abruptly, in a constant loop. Stephan Fairbanks appeared from behind, wearing his white suit and pointed shoes. His left earlobe had been pierced and there was a tiny, diamond earring.

“Did you enjoy that horrible film, Little Brother?” Stephan asked as he strolled down the aisle.

Stephan’s right hand was stuffed inside his suit pocket as he made his way over. Ikeda rose from his seat and clapped slowly, now that the movie was over.

“I find it tantalizing. The suffering of humanity has always been amusing to me. Wouldn’t you agree, Stephan?”

“Why do you always presume such things? You hardly know me.”

Ikeda touched Stephan’s hair, moving his right hand through it. “Do you often hide in your room and masturbate? Oh dear, it must be so lonely for you in there.”

“Unlike you, Ikeda, I read books to expand my knowledge. Don’t patronize me,” Stephan said, slapping Ikeda’s hand away from him.

Ikeda gasped when he saw a red bruise on his smooth, pale skin.

“Why do always push me away? How awfully rude of you. And all I ever did was try to love you.” Ikeda had fake crocodile tears, but he quickly wiped his face with a napkin from his coat pocket.

“How could you be so cruel to your own kind, to your own Little Brother? Look at what you did to my beautiful hand,” he said.

Ikeda narrowed his eyes at Stephan, turned away, and kept his hands to himself.

Stephan had a blank expression on his face. “Unfortunately for swine such as yourself, you’ll survive.”

“Oh, is that a fact?” Ikeda said, putting his other hand next to his left ear. “Come closer, Stephan. I may be hard of hearing but I’m not a nitwit.”

Stephan sighed, shaking his head. “I never said that you were, but you sure act like one, Little Brother.”

“My word! If Big Brother could see the look on your face. He might say, ‘you’ve become too hard on me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I have no time for your shenanigans.”

Ikeda touched Stephan’s shoulder, and then trailed down his arm. “Dear Stephan, are you trying to settle a score? You would love to fight me one on one, wouldn’t you? We could take off our clothes and give it a whirl. Let’s see what happens if I win…will you put it in your mouth?”

“Not to be ostentatious, Little Brother. But kindly fuck off.”

“Touchy touchy. When did you learn such naughty words, Stephan?”

“I have no grievances to settle. Logistics and logic is what keeps me equitable. Although, I do prefer if you left me alone and perhaps killed yourself—spare me this vexation. You and your debauchery…”

“I despise you and your big, fancy terms. Your vocabulary is so obtuse for such a modern time period. Please, desist and stop the charade. You’re always parading on about how delectable you are. Can I please have a little bite to eat?” Ikeda asked, fluttering his eyelids. “Just a nibble. You won’t even feel a thing.”

Stephan was not amused in the slightest. “Oh, how charming. Has your blood-thirsty cravings for all mankind’s misgivings, their insanity besieged you too? I will not repeat myself––the answer is no.”

“Don’t you dare lecture to me about the economics of wealth and suffering.” Ikeda shook his index finger in front of his brother.

Stephan could care less and moved away from his annoying, younger brother. “No need to elucidate your conjuring. You’ve already proven my point about how truly disgusting you are.”

“Stephan, I hope for your own sake that you don’t go out in public, because no one ever talks like you. Not that they wouldn’t understand. No offense––”

“None taken, cretin.”

“But no human in this world is carrying an encyclopedia around to figure out what the fuck you’re actually saying. You do love me, don’t you? Underneath that inexpressive exterior, you do have one fatal weakness.”

Stephan paced around Ikeda, keeping his distance. “Who would anticipate that the fate of the world was set in motion with a single picture? And no. I detest you and everything you stand for. Furthermore, I have no vulnerabilities. I’m not like you.”

Ikeda’s eyes glowed with passion as he kept his gaze at his brother’s stiff posture. He monitored Stephan’s behavior closely around the theater; Ikeda rushed toward him, blocking his path. He started breathing down the back of Stephan’s neck, which made him crave for something he knew he couldn’t have. If Ikeda could have a taste of his brother’s flesh, he’d be simply overjoyed.

“Are you seriously keeping a track of our time together? You have any crucial and juicy details you’d like to share with me?” Ikeda whispered. “Do you dream about me being on top?”

“Is sex all you ever think about? What more is there to say? You are an empty-headed fool,” Stephan said, frankly.

Ikeda suddenly realized something. “Oh my! Look at the time,” he said, staring down at his watch. “I have business to attend to.”

Ikeda almost lost track of everything––he didn’t want to be late. It was nearing 3:45 P.M. However, Ikeda stayed a little longer than expected and inhaled his brother’s sweet cologne.

“If you didn’t smell so fucking good, I’d rip out your throat.” Ikeda grabbed Stephan’s crotch and then licked his brother’s ear with his long tongue.

Stephan turned to the side and hinted at Ikeda to stop playing around; he removed his brother’s pale hand from between his legs. “I’m not interested in you, and I never will be.”

“We’ll have to finish our discussion at some point,” Ikeda said, eyeing his brother’s movements. “Always playing hard to get, but I know you’ll come around. Stephan, you poor bastard. You’ll be sucking my cock in no time.”

Taking out a handkerchief from his pocket, Stephan wiped his ear clean in disgust. “Never do that again. Your threats are shallow as you are—it is a pointless endeavor. Do you understand now? Should I spell it out for you––that you will soon die?”

“You’re so much like us, dear Brother. Don’t try to hide it, Stephan. Keeping your emotions suppressed all the time makes you quite cranky—you really need a good release. Ever thought about fucking? I could surely help you with that department, since you seem to be lacking.”

Stephan paid no attention to Ikeda; he ignored his brother just the same and sauntered out the door, holding his head high. He exited the room without making another sound.

Oh well, another day then…

Ikeda didn’t care about Stephan’s cold demeanor; his smile widened as he adjusted his cufflinks.


 

At Cougar High the last bell rang, reminding everyone that school was closed. Similar to the film Ikeda had seen, he monitored their daily lives, despite the fact that he was bored out of his mind. He knew everyone’s dirty secrets. All their thoughts, their desires, their feelings. Yes, even their fears and their insecurities.

He closely monitored Zander in the classroom and his daily activities. Ikeda spied on the students, the teachers, the bullies, even the press; he was invisible to those around him, especially to the reporters standing outside. No one saw him coming or going. Ikeda could do whatever he pleased.

Humans are so easy to read, he thought.

Everything they did depended on a circumstance and the environment they were raised in. Nurture versus nature or was it really nature over nurture? Yes, even their DNA was to blame for their stupidity too. Every human had unique traits, particular behaviors, and a set of movements that defined them separately; however, it would change based on every emotion they felt.

None of it made any sense to Ikeda. Although, he understood perfectly that humans needed basic requirements: food, water, and sex to survive. These humans were far more complicated than he originally thought. Ikeda yawned in boredom. Students ambled past him in straight lines and stayed within a large crowd; they were in the narrow hallway, going toward the bus station. Like a herd of mindless sheep, they each dragged their feet along with them.

Humans are cows for the slaughtering. At least someone’s gotta eat…

To Ikeda, it was another dreary fallout. Each day came to a bitter conclusion, only to begin anew.

Deja vu? some of them thought. And yet, no one would dare admit it to themselves that something didn’t feel quite right.

Ikeda peered into each of their thoughts, seeing static images materialize from their brains as if he was watching live TV. Some memories had more static than others, due to the constant firing of electrical impulses in their bodies. Ikeda could see their insides on the outside: all their nerves, their cells, their muscles, and their skeletal frames. If only he had a remote to pause, rewind, and reverse time itself.

Now, that would be something, he thought.

Ikeda pushed down one of the cameras, which was on a tripod, with the mere touch of his finger. The heavy and expensive equipment crashed to the ground; a news crew gathered behind him to pick up the pieces. Why stay in the shadows when not one person knew he was even there? Ikeda’s eyes glowed brighter than ever. He enjoyed stepping out in the sunlight; he wore a thick fur coat with six, Arctic fox heads.

Ikeda loved it that no one cared nor bothered him about how he dressed. He could walk around naked in plain view, if he wanted to, and still not be seen. The power he had was invincible. Ikeda could do or be whoever he desired.

As Ikeda studied the humans, he jotted notes about their lifestyles in a journal; he found some had to literally drag themselves out of bed. Ikeda could get as close to them while they ate, slept, and talked. And nothing would happen.

He sometimes would poke a human in the eye, hoping to witness a reaction of some kind. To see the look on their faces. It got to a point, where he was poking people just for the fun of it. It was the same weekday as always, except they were reliving it, in instant replay. As if someone rewound their actions.

Ikeda viewed the school from afar and knew everything inside it would remain stuck, forever. These humans he called fodder. They were trapped, or rather yet doomed to repeat certain events that would soon bring an end to them all.

 

Copyright © 2001-2017 by W.D. Lady

Nightmarish Reaction – The Storm

DISCLAIMER:

This book contains graphic and disturbing scenes. Content may be controversial in nature and may not be appropriate for younger readers; therefore, you must be eighteen or older. 

Point of views made by the characters in this story does not reflect the sole views of the author. The author and the publishing company shall have neither liability. Nor responsibility to any person or entity for any loss, damage caused or actions caused, or alleged to have been caused directly or indirectly, by the content contained in this book.

All rights are reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means (electronically, mechanically, photocopied, recorded, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.


 


THE STORM

 

It rained in Jupiter, Florida. A blue Mercedes-Benz parked in an empty lot. It was past midnight when Kasey Matthews shut off the engine; he leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and exhaled. The muscles in Kasey’s body started to relax as he savored this one moment to himself. He listened to the storm for several minutes, hoping it would clear his mind of such dreadful thoughts.

The things he had seen would never leave him be. Kasey stared at the rear-view mirror and scratched his scruffy beard, since he hadn’t shaved in weeks. He didn’t recognize himself––he was an absolute mess. There was a large gash on his forehead where some dried blood remained. His red hair wasn’t neatly combed, looking matted and untamed; he smelled of strong alcohol and hadn’t showered in days.

Kasey massaged his temples and then rubbed the weariness out from his bloodshot eyes. He’d driven on the highway for nearly four hours nonstop, without a single restroom break. Since Kasey was determined to reach his destination, he hadn’t stopped to eat nor rest at any of the interstate service stations in towns. Not even to wash his face. He stared at the digital clock on the dashboard in silence.

It suddenly changed to 2:30 A.M. Kasey’s sweaty hands gripped the steering wheel tight as he peered outside. He lifted his coat sleeve and quickly wiped the foggy windshield while the rain pitter-pattered on the glass in heavy clumps. The scent of the ocean, of salt water made his nostrils flare. A lingering presence hovered above Kasey’s car, despite the towering lampposts nearby; elongated shadows gave him a creepy vibe.

Like peaceful giants they stood forever motionless; their light guiding the path to enlightenment or to death. However, the closer he looked at these tall structures the more he saw. A silent, ominous threat. In the dark, these inanimate lights appeared to be staring down at any trespasser from above. Kasey noticed a beam flash over his car, brighter than all the others.

From below, as water cascaded over the concrete lighthouse, it resembled a Cyclops with its white eye glaring. Huge droplets of rain came down in sheets. Kasey could barely see through the perspiration that fogged the windows. When he was driving on the slippery roads, his wiper blades had been turned on at full speed, yet he still had low visibility.

Now that the car had stopped, he could see through the blurry windows. The beach was just a few yards away. Kasey knew nobody would be out and about at this time, especially with ongoing reports of severe thunderstorms in the area. Maybe somewhere a lone surfer might be crazy enough to ride a ferocious wave. But Kasey had his doubts. No one in their right mind would dare risk it.

Lightning streaked across the sky, in an array of displays. After all, Florida was known as the Lightning Capital of the World and no one was that foolish to disprove it. Kasey unlocked the door; he didn’t care that it was raining. Something had a strong hold over him––it compelled Kasey to step in to the cold, morning air. Fear had not kept him at bay, even though the danger was clearly there.

Kasey tried every logical reasoning to explain what he had seen, but nothing made a lick of sense. He had too many questions and safety was the last thing on his mind. Kasey had to step outside or he’d implode.

Suffering from some kind of mental break down, he couldn’t control himself. Was Kasey going to do something he’d regret?

Maybe, in some way, he wanted to end his life. No amount of rain could wash away the blood from his hands. He was unclean—the guilt he felt would never leave him.

The hell am I doing? he thought, curiously.

This was a mistake from the start. Kasey sighed. What had brought him here? Exactly what was he planning to do at a deserted beach, for that matter? But Kasey had to see it for himself.

It was the main reason why he was speeding on the road, on the Florida Turnpike, just to get to this spot. Someone once told him that this place was like no other. Thunder boomed overhead. Stepping out of the vehicle completely, he took his time. One foot after the other, Kasey ruined his shoes in a puddle of muddy water.

He checked his surroundings, and then grabbed his hat from inside. Kasey slammed the door shut, so the leather seats wouldn’t get wet. How odd he cared more about the condition of his vehicle than his own well being. Without any umbrella, not that it would’ve helped with all the wind, Kasey walked toward a large sign that had a map of the Blowing Rocks Preserve. It described the layout of the land in perfect detail.

Kasey couldn’t read the small letters nor the symbols, which showed him where to go. He decided that sticking to a path would be much easier for him. Kasey figured if he stayed along the coast, he wouldn’t get lost. His long, unkempt hair was hidden underneath his brownish hat. Overlooking the view, he maintained a safe distance from the water’s edge and watched the white waves crash against the jagged rocks.

The tide came in, hitting the twisted formations before him. Kasey saw what looked like soapy foam nearly six feet high. He noticed a red and white striped lighthouse not far from where he was standing. The bright light couldn’t perpetrate through the darkness, almost as if it were engulfed by the dark clouds itself. As Kasey lowered his gaze, he tried to heal the gaping hole in his chest, and yet he couldn’t repair his shattered heart.

He couldn’t remember what made him come to the beach in the first place. A soft voice called out to him. He didn’t know who or what it was. A strange feeling came over Kasey—one of sadness, of dread. It made him quite uneasy as he slogged through the sand, in the middle of a violent storm.

In perpetual thought, Kasey struggled to keep it together; he shoved both hands into his coat pockets. The images of red––a blood soaked petal. A bouquet of roses on a table, of bloody footsteps on the floorboards raced on. His fingers touched a hard, icy surface. It was entirely metal. Kasey took out a pistol, a .44 Magnum.

He felt somewhat at ease whenever he went to the beach; it was what Kasey did if he ever had a bad day at work. However, this moment in his life, things were very different––he was not the same person, who he used to be. His entire outlook had changed. Now, Kasey wanted nothing more than to stop these ongoing migraines, the frequent pounding in his head. He closed his eyes and thought about how it would feel to die.

It will be a quick, painless death, he thought, trying to rationalize it.

A strong gust of air blew his hat clean off, and Kasey turned around, watching it disappear into the black sky. He slowly lifted the gun, putting the barrel inside his mouth; the memories of the past made him relive the agony all over again. Everything he visualized was static, but vivid with color. Kasey imagined an orange sunset as it descended beyond the horizon.

The cool, calm waves on his bare feet as they walked together on the sunny beach. Her wide smile could brighten any time of day. Kasey recalled the red sunhat she always wore and her long, wavy brunette hair. The warm breeze blew gently against their skin; they watched the waters sparkle with such light.

In a split second, the roses he’d bought––the ones she had in her favorite vase, fell to the floor. It smashed to pieces like his fragmented mind. The blood on the walls. Abrupt static once more. Kasey drifted off, floating in space, the memories of a long corridor.

A hallway full of doors and blue pastel walls. He leaned over toward a hospital bed—sunlight came through the curtains, covering everything in white. An old woman lay motionless before him with big, wide eyes. Her lips trembled. He saw the tears rolling down her sunken cheeks, the pain on her wrinkled face. This woman had no name and was the only witness to an unusual case. She blinked once at Kasey, but she couldn’t move any part of her body.

She was paralyzed from the waist down, and as he moved toward her, she became more frightened. Kasey didn’t understand what she was mumbling about, but it didn’t sound good. The old woman’s soft voice looped in his ears, giving him no peace of mind.

“It started on the brink. It was utterly dark. The light shined bright on to me, but I could not turn. I could not turn…” She closed her eyes and never opened them again.

Back at the beach, his wife’s snowy skin touched his; her complexion was not much lighter than his. Hand-in-hand they were happily married––a new beginning for them both. The darkness returned. Their life was short lived. The redness burned Kasey’s eyes. The Volkswagen collided head on into a speeding train.

The metal crumbled inward and tore it to bits. The streets flashed red and blue lights; police, paramedics, and firefighters were everywhere. Parts of her were left on the side of the road. Kasey soon heard faint singing and realized he wasn’t alone. Someone else was with him, lurking within the depths of the ocean.

It waited and watched over him. Kasey removed the .44 Magnum from his mouth, lowering his hand; he quickly concealed it in his pocket. A reddish, glowing light caught his eye. Dots of red emerged from beneath the turbulent currents. It glided across the water with such speed and accuracy as if it was riding on the waves.

The lights in the sky merged as one; it was unbelievably radiant, almost blinding Kasey. He partially covered his face. Then, it dissipated. A figure was standing on top of a cliff to his left side. Initially, Kasey didn’t think any of this was real.

Was it an illusion? Maybe a dream of some kind? Kasey took his hands out of his pockets and ran toward the angelic being, who was so close to the edge of those rolling, black waves. They resembled the jaws of a shark that would swallow anyone who ventured too close to the edge. Once Kasey stepped closer, his feet were stuck in place.

He noticed a little girl in a red dress. Both her arms were outstretched before her as if she would jump. She gazed at the water with such keen interest. Was she thinking of diving in?

“Hey, little girl,” he shouted, waving wildly at her.

She put down her hands and turned to face Kasey––looked him straight in the eye. At that moment, he knew something was not right with her. Her youthful appearance and red eyes made her quite beautiful, even enigmatic. Kasey sensed the sadness deep in his heart. Something was very wrong, and yet he couldn’t make out what he truly felt.

Was it fear? Anxiety? He swallowed and approached her just the same.

“Don’t do it. Whatever you’re thinking…whatever you’re going through, it will be all right,” Kasey yelled, trying to speak through the howling wind and rain. “I can help you.”

She didn’t move and continued staring at him with a blank expression on her doll-like face.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m a cop,” he stated, quite loudly.

He climbed over on one of the rocks, but then slipped and fell backwards hard. His right hand was now covered in blood; the inside of his palm had been sliced open. Kasey’s trench coat was drenched and covered in sand. He winced in pain, but he got up—he wouldn’t dilly-dally again.

Kasey tore the side of his coat with all this strength and wrapped the fabric tightly around his hand. He attempted a second try and carefully watched where he positioned his hands. Taking baby steps on top of a boulder, he staggered around and tried to maintain his balance. Kasey cursed himself for not being quick enough.

I’m getting too old for this shit.

He was only thirty-nine. Kasey was sweating profusely under his clothes, despite the rain beating down on his face. There came a point where there was a breach in the rock. He was too afraid to jump, so he stretched his left hand to her instead.

“Here, take my hand,” Kasey said.

The girl backed away from him, on the verge of jumping in.

“What’s your name?” he asked her.

She looked as if she didn’t understand a word he said. Kasey spoke to her in Spanish, hoping that she’d respond.

“Stay right there. I’ll come to you,” he shouted.

Kasey stepped back, held his breath, and then hopped over the large rift that separated them from the ocean. He almost got hit by a moving wave as it came toward him; mist sprayed Kasey’s face, stinging his eyes with salt water. He shook his face as best as he could, struggling not to give in.

Even in the dark, he paid close attention to where his footing was. His black crew socks and the one-hundred dollar leather slip-on shoes from KENT COLES were soaked to the bone. At least he kept his balance as he made his way forward. Kasey leaned over so close to the girl, and yet she wouldn’t grab his hand.

“I have many names,” she stated, sounding somewhat annoyed by him.

The weather wouldn’t let up; it seemed as if it didn’t want to stop. A sickening feeling came to Kasey, in the pit of his stomach, as he soon realized that the girl’s dress was the color of blood. However, she wasn’t soaked to the bone, like Kasey was. She had not a drop on her. Despite the fact that the girl’s feet were caked in mud, her tanned skin gave off an unnatural eerie glow.

Kasey stared down at her bare toes and wondered why the mud wasn’t washing away. She stood there in a calmly frigid manner, gazing at him. She didn’t blink whatsoever. Lightning struck the ocean, not far from where they were standing.

“I’d give anything for this storm to go away,” Kasey hollered, not knowing what else to say. “Just so we can talk.”

“As you wish,” she whispered.

In that instant, it stopped pouring. The cumulonimbus clouds rolled backward as the thunderstorm died down; it passed above them and tiny streaks of lightning diminished across the sky. Moonlight shined through the scattered remnants and her dress shimmered with such a heavenly light.

Kasey smiled nervously. “Okay. So is there a name you prefer?” he asked.

“They call me Sin,” Sin said as she looked over her shoulder.

That’s an odd name for a girl, he thought.

“You don’t have to do this, Sin.” Kasey offered his left hand to her, the one that wasn’t injured, hoping that she’d eventually take it. If only she would step away from the ledge and come with him, where it was safer.

“Don’t kill yourself,” he said.

Sin smiled and then giggled. “I don’t exist. I’m not part of your world.”

“Where are you from?” Kasey asked.

Sin pointed upward, using her index finger. “We live all around you, Detective Kasey. In the sky, in the ocean…even beneath your feet.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I know everything about this planet, including men like you.”

Kasey shook his head in frustration. “What are you doing here? Don’t you know how late it is? You shouldn’t be by yourself––wait, have we met before?”

“How many times have you wept, Detective?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you remember me when you close your eyes?”

“Listen, I’ve never seen you in my life. You’re coming with me, okay?”

“I was born in the deepest, darkest part of your subconscious mind, Detective. I am hatred––the coldness that sweeps over you. I have no boundaries. The apprehension you feel is your own selfish guilt. Perception is the rose-colored glasses you wear. Your mere existence is a lie—try and hide as much as you like, Detective. Concealing yourself brings you closer to the edge. Even now, the darkness still follows you.”

“The darkness? Little girl, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you feel it, Detective? Can’t you see them? We haunt you every night––we prey and feed on your soft flesh. You’re the one who considers us an illusion. Is your reality the only truth you seek? Such a foolish man. You have little faith in me––still don’t believe in what you see? Not unless you can prove it otherwise. In due course, the self-deception within yourself will gradually tear you and your world apart.”

“What the hell do you want from me, little girl?”

“To take back what is rightfully mine—what was stolen from me,” Sin explained. “The Earth you know is coming to an end. It will be no more. Like the sand moving under your feet, it will soon give way. On the night of the blood moon, you will hear the sirens of death. The trumpets of fallen angels—they’ll call out to you. Don’t you see the signals in the sky? Humanity is nearing the final stage. Everyone here will soon disappear.”

When the moon turns red? Kasey was completely out of it.

“Near the last days, you will have to pick a side, Detective. Choose wisely. For there are no second chances. What is right and wrong when the lines are blurred together? Will you bow down to me?”

“Come again?” Kasey slowly backed away from her as if he was trying to avoid a bite from a venomous snake. “You want me to worship you? Not on your life.”

“Those who are loyal and follow me shall turn. Those who don’t comply will be destroyed. We eat the ones we kill. That is the law.”

“What the hell…?” Kasey said, in utter shock.

Sin grabbed his injured hand and squeezed it tenderly; her touch cold as ice. She spoke to Kasey, but not in her usual sweet tone. Sin’s voice became garbled, deeper than a man’s, and yet creepier than any little girl Kasey had ever heard.

“CoMe aNd PlAy WiTh Me, DeTeCtIvE. I’lL mAkE yOu sTrOnG.”

Holy fuck! Beads of sweat poured down Kasey’s face as his entire body trembled in horror. Sin removed the fabric around his bloodied hand and showed him the truth.

Kasey held his right hand close to his face, seeing no such wound. “This can’t be…”

Sin’s tone reverted back to normal—that of an innocent angel. “Shall I bring back the one you loved so dearly? Fifteen years. Your wife’s birthday is on the 23rd of May, the day she took her last breath. Her name was Yolanda, wasn’t it?

How tragic her loyalty wasn’t with you. Never faithful, always cheating. I ate her soul as she passed through the threshold––she reeked of infidelity, and somehow you knew. Wasn’t it you, Detective, who had wished for her untimely death?”

“No, no. That’s not true. This can’t be real––you’re not real!”

“I’ll grant you any wish you desire, if you give me what I want. Her essence may still survive in that hellish abyss. That fatal accident will cease to exist. Maybe her love will ring true once more. You and her may have kids. Don’t you want to grow old together?”

“Leave me alone. I don’t know you.”

Kasey clutched onto his .44 Magnum, inside his pocket, and then took it out. He held it up to Sin’s forehead.

Sin beamed with joy. “Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted, Detective? A family of your very own? All you have to do is take my hand. Everything you’ve ever wanted, anything you’ve ever dreamed of will be yours for the taking.

Trust in me. Have faith and you will be greatly rewarded. No more suffering. All your sorrows will be reversed. No need for bullets. Besides, you don’t have any left.”

Kasey pulled the trigger, but the chamber was empty. “Why are you doing this to me? WHAT ARE YOU?”
Sin revealed what was hiding behind her back; Kasey watched as she extended her small hand out to him, which was in a tight fist. She slowly opened it. Sin giggled, dropping three bullets from the palm of her hand.

“You already know the answer, Detective. I’m the monster that lies under your bed—the one that lives inside your head. I’ll never leave you until you’re dead.”

The images of his wife’s corpse returned with terrifying results. Kasey saw the blue blouse she wore that day—it was covered in blood. Her torso had been ripped in half, including her face. She was lying face down on the road with her intestines, spilling over. Kasey struggled to block out the past, but he ultimately gave in.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Sin’s smile grew wider as her nose, mouth, and eyes started to overflow with black blood. Kasey dropped the Magnum and fell to his knees; the gun bounced off the rocks, falling right in the ocean. It sunk like a rock. Kasey’s screams could be heard for miles.

He was hysterical as Sin skipped by him, singing a cheerful tune. Lost in a hellish nightmare, he soon heard music playing in the background. It sounded like an organ. Along with flutes, bells, and pipes. He looked up and saw an abandoned carnival beside them.

Lights flashed on brightly from the old, amusement park and lit up the night sky with colorful arrangements. There were shops, empty booths, and dirty stuffed animals. A Ferris wheel was crooked and tilted, leaning on one side. It was entirely covered in rust as it made screeching metallic noises. The park literally rose from out of the ocean.

Portions of it fell in decay, crashing onto the coast with a thunderous sound. Kasey tried to protect his face as large pieces of twisted metal came tumbling all around him. Gigantic waves splashed him from every angle and the ground shook beneath him. The shore drastically changed into a maze, a distorted junkyard. After everything settled down, there was nothing but dead silence.

Kasey opened one eye and felt a sharp, stinging sensation in his left arm. Blood seeped through Kasey’s coat and that was when he noticed a rod sticking out of his chest. Kasey collapsed to his knees, unable to cope with what he had seen. It became harder for Kasey to breath. The atmosphere felt different here; it seemed to be crushing his lungs altogether.

The oxygen burned his skin like fire and it intensified as if electricity was in the air. Kasey glanced over his shoulder nervously, hoping to find the red and white lighthouse behind him; the one that had shined so radiant before. But it was nowhere in sight. He was near a mountainous terrain covered with enormous, red thorns that seemed to reach for the sky.

This couldn’t be Florida, he thought. The climate was much colder than he realized, dropping nearly fifty degrees. Even the sand on the beach had turned red; the environment had altered itself right before his very eyes. It wasn’t familiar anymore. Once he looked upward, he spotted six red moons above him.

It was a strange and foreign landscape. Kasey had a feeling he was nowhere on Earth and when he turned his head, Sin disappeared. Kasey leaned over the edge, thinking she had fallen in, and yet there were no signs she was there at all. No indication that Sin had even jumped into the ocean, which was now blood red. He had heard no loud sounds of splashing.

Only the echoes of shrieks and howls from bizarre, alien life forms. As the wind died down, so too did the carnival music in the background. The dim lights on the Ferris wheel died out. Trapped by fallen debris, the amusement park vanished within the fog, leaving Kasey alone to his suffer his eternal fate.

Copyright © 2001-2017 by W.D. Lady

Nightmarish Reaction – Red Thorns

I’ve decided to officially post Nightmarish Reaction (Volume 3) on WordPress and DA. If you haven’t read both Nightmarish Reality (Vol. 1) and Nightmarish Revelations (Vol. 2), you can always buy my books on Amazon.

Sigh...

They will be up there for all time. Please read them for yourself, before continuing any further.

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Be warned. If you decide to carry on, you will be very confused. There will be no chapter numbers whatsoever. I will try to post once or twice a week. These chapters may jump around a lot, since nothing is set in stone.

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Please bear with me if you see any spelling and grammatical errors. If I ever decide to publish, I’ll go back and revise everything. Unfortunately, I just don’t have the time right now. I’m doing this for my beloved readers/fans. Maybe for myself as well, so I can get back in the habit of writing again.

Pole Dancing is Fun!

Feel free to comment on anything you like. 

Please DO NOT send me harassing comments/emails asking me when I’ll be publishing NR3 or if I’ll finish the series. I DO NOT know when I’ll publish Nightmarish Reaction. Maybe in the next few years or maybe never. If you spam me to read/edit your story, I will ignore you completely. I DO NOT have the time to read nor edit anyone’s story.

I only posted this, because I felt bad that I wasn’t able to finish it. To my readers, who’ve bought and read the previous two novels, I’d like to thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you would like to know what happens next in the series, please continue.

I haven’t made up my mind whether I’ll post the entire story or half of it. We’ll see how it goes. 

front

DISCLAIMER:

This book contains graphic and disturbing scenes. Content may be controversial in nature and may not be appropriate for younger readers; therefore, you must be eighteen or older. 

Point of views made by the characters in this story does not reflect the sole views of the author. The author and the publishing company shall have neither liability. Nor responsibility to any person or entity for any loss, damage caused or actions caused, or alleged to have been caused directly or indirectly, by the content contained in this book.

All rights are reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means (electronically, mechanically, photocopied, recorded, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.


PART VI.


RED THORNS

Its brown and slender, swift legs ran through the bushes as it fled. Its feet leaped over small ponds with such ease, avoiding the water altogether as it ran deep into the swamps. A loud gunshot erupted from the trees. Nosh poked his head out of the underbrush and saw the white-tailed deer immediately go down on all fours.

His brown Fedora hat and camouflage coat helped him blend in with the dry environment. As a skilled hunter, he had made a fine kill today; Nosh removed his hat and fanned himself with it. The heat was thick as a dense fog.

Even at his age, his eyesight was still sharp as any old hawk and fast were his reflexes, for he had noticed the white-tailed deer prancing in front of his path. Something had spooked the animal out of its hiding place. Slowly, he crept toward his most beloved prize. The shotgun was still loaded and posed in both hands, ready to fire again. Nosh knelt down.

He lowered the shotgun, crouching on his hands and knees to get a closer look of his kill. A stain of blood dripped from the doe’s chest. One bullet went straight to the heart and killed it instantly. Born a Seminole Indian, Nosh had lived most of his adult life in Southern Florida with his family, far away from the Indian Reservation and his tribe. Whether it was his tradition or not, Nosh respected all life on the planet.

Before cutting up his kill, he thanked the ancient spirits for his good fortune. Nosh spoke in his native tongue, Mikasuki, which originated from the Eastern Muskogean family languages. He also knew Creek due to his life on the Indian Reservation, during his brief childhood.

Nosh said a prayer of thanks and slapped his hands together like a Christian saying grace. “Thank you brothers and sisters for providing me with such a feast. Thank you ancestors for this holy sacrifice.”

Using a military knife, Nosh cut through the skin and peeled the flesh off the young doe. He detached two leg thighs, the heart, liver, and a few ribs. He learned how to do this quickly from his father and grandfather, knowing all the techniques without making such a mess, despite the blood on his hands. He took out a large, brown wool sack from out of his backpack, stuffing all the meats inside it.

Nosh held onto his shotgun in his right hand and took only what he could carry; he heaved the sack over his broad shoulders. Nosh left the rest of the carcass for the other predators in the forest to feast on. He did this as a peace offering to the ancient spirits. When he was younger, he could lug so much meat for himself and his family. But now he was an old man, Nosh wasn’t as strong as before. His hands ached more so than ever due to the Arthritis pain, and so did his back; he could still hold a shotgun in his grip, but not for very long.

Since he used the best parts of the deer, there would be enough food to last him for at least two weeks tops. After his wife died many years ago and his children now old enough to raise their own families, he lived alone. Times were getting tough in this economy and money was tighter than ever, especially for his little grocery store, Poppa’s Shop. So, Nosh did what he could and spent his days hunting deer, since he had a gun permit.

During every hunting season he’d save a little money on the meat. He wouldn’t have to buy at the local groceries and Samuel, his best friend, often offered fresh vegetables from his home garden. He saved a lot of money just thinking wisely and living the good, simple life. As Nosh carefully stepped over fallen tree branches that crackled under his feet, he suddenly came to a stop.

The wind had died down and he felt an icy chill run up his leg. Nosh stared directly at his heavy boots, only yards away from a reddish thorn bush. He lifted his right foot and took one step back. The man had come across a forbidden landscape full of thorn bushes; Nosh heard no chirping of birds above him in the trees, which was unusual.

His ears listened closely for any signs of trouble. There were no buzzing of insects, no sounds of frogs and no crickets. Nothing, but dead silence. Nosh clutched tightly to the brown sack of meat and retraced his steps, backing away calmly. He made sure not to step on any of the reddish plant life––it was foreign in his eyes.

When the man had some distance between him and the misshaped thorn bushes, he sighed in relief. Nosh envisioned himself back at the Indian Reservation as a young boy. He sat by the camp fire and listened to his father’s deep voice. Hearing his father speak in the Mikasuki language, Nosh would often close his eyes and imagine how his ancestors used to live.

However, this tale was different than all the others, for his father had a way of explaining certain events in simple terms that only he could understand. Sometimes, fear would show itself deep within his eyes; it warned Nosh that this was no mystical folktale.

“My Micco…” Nokosi said, before he paused to gaze at the stars above.

His long, black braided hair had a tint of gray as the moonlight hit his shoulders; Nokosi returned his attention to the fire that crackled and popped beside him. The flames seemed to taunt him, dancing before his eyes in quick rapid movements. Nokosi took a deep breath and then stared at his large, swollen hands, now wrinkled and aged over time. His hands trembled slightly as he held them near the fire, seeking the warmth of the flames.

“Micco,” Nokosi replied again. “Never forgot what I’ve said to you. On this day, under these stars. This unholy night.”

“Unholy night?”

“Yes Micco. Tomorrow will be the Unholy Day. A day our people will not dare speak of…”

Nosh remembered how he hated hearing his real name spoken out, even though it was his birth name. At the time of his youth, Nosh didn’t protest to being called ‘chief’ in public. Until, he married his wife who spoke three languages, Mikasuki, Creek, and Algonquian. She eventually nicknamed him Nosh, meaning ‘father,’ after their first daughter was born. Nosh preferred his new name over his real one, and had wished from the start that Nokosi, his father, had passed down a stronger title onto him.

Nokosi’s name symbolized the power and spirit of the bear, and that was a true name for a man, Nosh thought.

Nokosi’ voice interrupted his thoughts. “Micco, when I was your age, I too heard my father’s wise tales…’bout the accursed land. Time does not exist in such a wicked place.”

“Why doesn’t time exist there, Father?” Nosh replied eagerly. “What accursed land?”

“The land where only blood thorn bushes grow, deep in the swamps.”

“Father, why do our people fear such a place? No one ever goes in there.”

“Once…there was a young girl named Chechoter. She a year or two younger than you are. My great grandfather spoke to my father of how the sky seemed different that day. How the moon turned blood red.”

“Blood red?” Nosh asked with such keen interest.

“He fled with his family to safety when they saw pieces of the sky fall down upon them. Chechoter was curious, unlike her father, who was very afraid of the strange lights in the great beyond. Chechoter’s father quickly ran away into the swamps to hide with the others. But Chechoter did not show fear and followed the bright fireball of light. It was larger than the other pieces of light and she chased it to where the dead spirits don’t dare speak its name.”

“What happened to her, Father? Did she die?”

“Chechoter was never seen again once the light touched the ground. When her father came rushing out to try to find her, he saw that the reddish light had all but faded away…he saw Chechoter being taken away in a chariot of fire. He never spoke of what he saw to anyone. Until on his deathbed. He told his only eldest son the truth about what happened to Chechoter.”

Nokosi talked about the ancient curse and how the swamps there had an evil spirit after the young girl’s disappearance. Eventually, the tale grew widespread, and over the years it had evolved and changed. Some of the peaceful Christian settlers, who had lived in the Everglades side-by-side with the Seminole Indians, believed it was an evil witch. Her tragic and untimely death had withered the land, since her body was never found.

Rumors and fear among the villagers had overtaken local towns as more people, who wandered into the swamp, vanished without a single trace. Darkness covered the town and drove the local residents out.

Nokosi’s sad, wrinkled eyes faced Nosh. “Soon after, wars broke out amongst our people as the white man took over our lands. We were then forced out of our homes and had to live on the reserve. I’ve never been back there since…”

Nokosi believed that the superstitions had become rampant like a deadly disease. What people couldn’t understand, they feared. It was soon blamed on the Seminole tribes. Nokosi mentioned that since the settlers couldn’t locate and properly dispose of the alleged witch’s remains, they soon gave up their search in vain. And so never having a Christian burial, her evil soul was left to wander the swamps, forever haunting those who crossed into her territory. This cursed land was called the House of Red Thorns.

Nosh didn’t know what to believe in, but he was smart enough to heed his father’s tale. The House of Red Thorns was a part of the swamp that had the deadliest reputation, for it was deep in the Everglades, an uncharted area that no man dared entered. No explorer would venture in this unnatural terrain, because of its dark aura. Nosh’s tribe knew the House of Red Thorns had taken the lives of many young Indians, many of whom were hunters.

Those brave souls might have accidentally followed a deer too far into the red underbrush and had gotten lost. Forever. Trapped for all time. The swamp was no stranger to even naive Christian settlers, who trespassed over the border for centuries. Any traveler who entered there would never return––they’d find themselves stuck in a sinking black sandpit.

At first, settlers had named it the Valley of Thorns, except that Florida had no valleys, for it was the flattest terrain ever. The old name had gave the impression that it was less threatening. Some daredevils believed it was just a walk in a park. When the truth eventually came out, by those who were lucky enough to survive the horrors, there were stories of giant thorns wrapping around trees. That the vines choked the life out of anything in its path.

Nosh gazed at the dead, wilting tree branches that looked like claws reaching outwards for him. He remembered the old wise shaman tales his father once told him on the Indian Reservation. These were ancient stories passed down from generation to the next. From his father, and to his children and so forth. They had been handed down unto him.

His father, Nokosi, told him about the existence of ancestral beings; many of them were heroic, legendary warriors. Then there were others, who suffered great tragedies. This was how the House of Red Thorns thrived. It fed off the suffering and pain of others. Nosh recalled that the red thorns grew very quickly that they blocked out the sunlight. There were no flowers in the House of Red Thorns.

No green plant life and certainly no wildlife could survive there. The images of Nosh’s father slowly faded away and so too did the fire as if everything he’d seen was just a mirage. The heat around Nosh, however, did not dissipate. Nosh saw the reddish thorns far away from him; he wiped his brow, relieved he hadn’t crossed that invisible border. If he had stepped over with one foot, he actually believed he’d be dead by now.

That’s how real his father’s warnings were to him. The fear kept people at bay and there was a good reason why. If Nosh had continued walking he’d be in another dimension by now, a dark void of oblivion. Even in broad daylight, it was pitch black in the House of Red Thorns. Nosh had seen it for himself.

He saw how the thorns wrapped around every living thing. The deer carcass was gone. Why did the vines wrap itself onto everything? As a whole they somewhat resembled a cottage, hence the name. Nosh decided it was best to stay clear from this area, for only the ancient spirits knew what real dangers lay in that forbidden black hole.

Nosh had an abrupt thought. He hadn’t seen Samuel Gates in quite some time. He missed talking to his old friend; as Nosh walked in the opposite direction he heard the distant howl of the wind, calling out to him.

“It is not my time to die,” Nosh said, looking up at the sky. “Not today, my friend. Not today…”

A sorrowful voice echoed from that eerie place. Nosh ignored it, for he knew how the House of Red Thorns lured its victims, those weak-minded fools. Many of them had went willingly into its gaping jaws of death.

Copyright © 2001-2017 by W.D. Lady

Rereading Nightmarish Reaction – Here Are My Thoughts On The 3rd Book…

The good news is… I’m on chapter 31 right now so I’m almost done reading NR 3.

The bad news…

Noooo!

I hate the book.

I’m not happy with what I’ve read so far.

Don’t get me wrong the first half is actually really good, but that middle part is driving me off the wall. It needs a complete overhaul.

Work!

Maybe I will change my mind after I do another million rewrites.

There’s a bunch of editing guidelines in my bedroom right now and I’m surrounded by How-to-Grammar, Structure, and Plot. However, some of the chapters have left me with a bitter taste in my mouth and I’m thinking I should just delete them and start all over again…

Smashing-computer-GIFI basically feel like I’m repeating the same stuff over and over again. Which is not a good sign whatsoever. The characters are still interesting and compelling; however, my dates and timelines are still a bit messy. I’ll be going back and fixing every last one of them. 

I may have to rearrange the chapters in another order and maybe add in a few new chapters as well, because it seems as if I’m rushing through some parts and I get this feeling that I should slow down. However, I don’t want to drag it for too long, because the book is already big enough. Something is bugging me a lot and I can’t pinpoint what. Editing and rewriting is the hardest thing ever.

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Will This 4th Book End The Series…?

I’m going to finish the last book of my NR series. Will I be able to end everything in a neat package, folks? Only time will tell. Is this going to be a much larger book at 500-600 pages?

I’m already at 461 pages with no ending in sight… 

This doesn’t look good.

Noooo!

I still have lots of writing, rewriting, revisions, reading, and editing to do. Gotta make sure everything’s perfect, before I ever decide on printing out a paperback copy.

writing

Hopefully, I can pull it off.

Don’t know when I’ll be able to complete everything.

Hero Time!

There’s really no set date. It may take me another year or so, which kind of sucks. However, I just don’t want to rush anything at the moment. I’d rather reflect on it and focus on a few chapters here or there, especially the timelines.

I’ll do little by little and take it one day at a time. The graphic novel was shipped yesterday, so I’m looking forward to that as well. I should have it by next week or so. I’m excited that things are getting done. Now, if I can get everything in order and just do what I need to do, I should be good to go.