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Join Date: Oct 2006
Posts: 2,289
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Leviathan |
Old shit in DEFAULT.
New shit in WHITE.
Edited shit in YELLOW.
Part 1: Monday Night
Dozens of serpentine heads plucked hapless villagers from the crowd and dragged them, kicking and screaming, to the main body. From within a crystalline shell, a hideous digestive tract emerged to digest victims alive. Clouds of hot steam rose in the cool night air, obscuring visibility. Elastic flesh stretched as desperate hands clawed from the inside. Faces emerged momentarily, their mouths a gap in torture, conducting a muffled symphony of tormented agony. Bones, stripped of their flesh, fell to the ground. The earth trembled with every movement the creature made. The running throngs could only watch in horror as the beast devoured those behind them, soaking the dirt in blood. Wet entrails doused lamp posts, bathing the village in complete darkness. Village guards proved helpless as the civilians. Arrows struck their target, causing the creature no harm. Instead, the creature grew aggravated, shattering wooden houses. The falling debris crushed the villagers below to bloodied pulp. The creature's eyes, malefic orbs black as midnight, followed prey with grim amusement. The leviathan was brutality incarnate; a living, breathing engine of hunger and rage.
Part 2: Of War and Whiskey
Medic Matthew Cross sipped his beer. His tour overseas ended last week. Though he never engaged in combat, he witnessed his fair share of carnage. Bullet and stab wounds, amputations, shrapnel removal, infections and burns; he had treated them all. They paled in comparison to what he would see today.
"Hey Al," Matt addressed the bar owner. "Your jukebox have anything from this century?"
"Sorry," Al coughed up cigarette smoke. "No Celine Dion here, son."
"Jokes," Matt laughed. "The man has jokes. Really, Al. Was Lincoln in office the last time you bought an album?"
"Smart ass," Al cleaned a glass. "You and Tommy both. Where is Tommy these days?"
Matt set his mug down on the counter.
"Haven't you heard," he sighed. "Tommy... isn't coming home...".
"Oh Matt," Al began. "Son...if I knew..."
"It's okay," Matt stood up. "You didn't know."
"How bout one on the house?"
"Thank you, but... I ought to be headin' home."
The entire bar shook. The lights above flickered and car alarms could be heard in the distance. People outside began running.
"What in God's name is that?" Al asked.
A bulbous mass slid against the window facing the street. Glass cracked and shattered as a mountain of dark gray flesh entered the bar. The mound expelled a quivering form; flesh clung loosely to dissolving bones. What was once a woman howled in agony, her lips sliding off her skull like tormented night crawlers. After several convulsions, she lie still. Al's cigarette fell from his mouth. Matt downed the remainder of his beer mug.
Part 3: The Laughs Stop
Jon the stand-up comic watched in helpless disbelief as a massive tentacle squashed his fiancée. Like a burst grape, her blood and gore splattered him, smearing him from head to toe. He stood quivering. Every fiber in his being screamed for him to run, but he instead stared at what the monster’s rising appendage left behind. The women he’d loved and planned to marry for three months had become a mashed pile of indecipherable meat and bone.
“S-Sarah,” He repeated over and over. A force pulled him from behind; a voice, as if underwater, urged him to run.
Sarah’s remains drew away from him. He was moving into an alley, but not of his own accord.
Matthew slammed the door shut behind him. Glancing briefly, he determined they had entered the backdoor of a small diner. He looked the blood covered man over.
“Jesus,” Al said. “He’s shaking like a Chihuahua in an earthquake.”
Matt shushed him. He grabbed the man’s head with two hands, trying to capture his attention.
“What’s your name?” Matt asked. “C’mon. Tell me your name.”
The man’s eyes finally met his. Matt had experienced the terror of war while treating grievous and fatal wounds. He had seen young men’s eyes well up with tears, heard them scream for their mothers, fathers, or gods until their voices grew raw. He’d seen bravery crumble to cowardice and fearlessness give way to agonizing horror. What he saw in this man’s eyes brought it all back.
“J-J-Jon,” he stammered.
“Jon,” Matt began. “We have to go.”
“But,” Jon struggled to explain. “S-Sarah.”
Matt watched as Jon’s hand fumbled on his shirt, pulling off a chunk of a skull. Dark brown hair still clung to it. Jon wailed. The piercing sound caused Al to wail too. Matt gave the bartender an annoyed look.
“We’re leaving now, Jon,” Matt yelled over the man’s painful cries. “Jon!”
“S-Sarah,” Jon slurred. “Go, Go back for Sarah. Still a, still a chance, a chance, h-h-help her, yes, help her. We’ve got, we’ve gotta–”
Biting his lip, Matt slapped Jon across the face. The man blinked at him, his eyes narrowed.
“You bastard,” Jon spat. The terror had been replaced with intense anger. “I’ll kick your fucking ass!”
The diner shook violently. Inside, plates shattered while pots and pans clattered loudly against the tiled floor. Outside, a bloodcurdling scream cut off abruptly.
“Good, use your feet,” Matt yelled. “To run now and kick my ass later.”
Part 4: Survivors Apparant
The trio sprinted across the diner, searching for an exit. In their haste to escape, customers had abandoned their orders, leaving behind hamburgers, fries, coffee, and soups, to name a few. The exit was visible. They stepped over the flattened door, exiting the diner.
The leviathan’s recent passing had left ruin outside. Broken fire hydrants cast founts of water into the air. Fractured concrete, shattered glass, destroyed light posts and electrical lines filled the street. The stench of death assaulted them, the foul odor permeated by the scores of dead.
“This must be the most fucked up day I’ve ever had,” Al said. “Just wanna put that out there.”
“Noted,” Mathew replied, side-stepping a mangled baby carriage. “If we get out of this, remind me to take you up on that drink.”
They came upon an overturned police squad car. Behind it, they found a police officer and a wide-eyed boy of about 10. She trained her gun on them.
“Freeze,” she demanded.
“Don’t fire,” Matt held up his hands. “We mean no harm.”
The boy whispered something in her ear. She lowered the gun.
“Why haven’t you evacuated with the others?” she asked.
“Evacuated?” Al blurted. “There was no evacuation.”
“This thing caught us completely off guard,” she sighed. “2 am is a hell of a time for an alien invasion.”
“Alien?” Jon scoffed. “You think this is an alien? Lady, this is no alien. This is an abomination straight from hell, that’s what it is.”
“It’s not Lady, asshole,” she said. “It’s Officer Henderson to you. This is Tyler. What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Matt said. “Thought we’d set up some tables, maybe have a picnic, some nice music- what the fuck do you think we’re doing here?! We’re trying to escape this nightmare, that’s what we’re doing, officer.”
Part 5: Clark Street
“The military’s established a perimeter around the city,” Officer Henderson continued. “No one gets in.” She turned to face Matthew. “And no one gets out.”
“What do you mean no one gets out?” Al asked.
“They believe it to be viral,” she said. “First priority is containment.”
“Viral, she says,” Jon laughed. “I can understand the confusion there. People sneezing, runny noses, streets filled with gore. Yeah, totally understandable.”
“It wasn’t my call,” she said. “You think I want to be here?”
“Then why are you here?” Matt asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
Tyler squeezed her hand.
“My sister’s kid,” she explained. “Guess he’s my responsibility now that his mother…” Her voice trailed off.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “We’ve all lost someone today.”
They stopped walking and stood, as if in silent recognition.
“Well, I haven’t,” Al said.
“Shut up, Al,” Matt said somberly. They continued walking. “What’s the plan, officer?”
“Call me Jackie.”
“Can I?” Jon asked.
“No, still Officer Henderson to you.”
“The plan, Jackie?” Matt asked.
“I don’t know,” she continued. “To be honest, I didn’t think I’d live long enough to find Tyler, let alone any other survivors. Then again, it didn’t leave many did it?”
“Last I heard from it, the creature was heading east. I suggest we head west and put as much distance between us as possible.”
They turned onto Clark Street, usually one of the busiest in the city.
“Fuck me,” Al blurted. Tyler buried his face in Officer Jackie’s stomach. Jon turned a deeper shade of green. Matthew exhaled deeply.
Clark Street had become a slaughterhouse. A seemingly endless trail of human remains lined the street. Every footstep they took along the blood drenched concrete produced a grotesque squishing sound. Bones, some with sinew still clinging to them, piled into mounds. Half-digested faces held expressions contorted in indescribable agony. They passed the remnants of a firefighter. He clutched what may have been a young child in his skeletal arms, now a blanket wrapped hunk of meat.
His mouth hung open in sheer disbelief; Matthew hardly heard the sound of laughter coming from in front of them. An old man, his spine twisted by extensive age, clapped wrinkled hands more bone than flesh. Although a black hood hid his face, his lips were curled into an ecstatic grin.
“Beautiful,” he croaked in a deep voice. “Isn’t it? Paradise, at long last, is upon us.”
Last edited by Carnage; 07-02-2008 at 07:22 PM.
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