Sir, we are hunters

Several shafts of light approached Erik as he stood behind the steel shelf.

“Sir, don’t be frightened we will not hurt you.” The Frenchman added.

“I’m not frightened you idiot. I don’t want you here in my shelter.” Erik shot back.

“Maybe we should just leave him… no then he would bitch too much. Let’s just kill him.”

“No Sean,” said the Frenchman. “Sir, my name is Jean Claude Anacius, hunter of monsters. My companions Sean and Andrew Baker are also hunters.

Erik’s ankles throbbed. He attempted to lift the plywood trap but the space between him and the wall restricted his movements. Erik watched as the cones of light came closer. The light highlighting an image of Erik within a nearby mirror.

“You know they are after you,” said his doppleganger. They are hunters. They are looking for Erik, the horrible.”

“I did not do what they accused me of,” Erik shouts back. The image disappears.

“Hey, bro… We ain’t judging you,” said Sean, the younger brother. “They got us too. Hell if it was trumped up.”

“Ha…” laughed his brother.

“Just help me,” Erik pleaded.

The trio of flashlights converged on Erik revealing a fifty year old disheveled man. Half of Erik’s face was covered in curly gray and black hair, his head revealed patches of pale baldness.

Presumptive end of Chapter 1

Advertisements

Out of Nowhere

The aluminum sheet sliced into the soft tissue just above the zombie’s rotten shoulder. It fell forward forcing the sheet of aluminum through its rotten arteries, severing any life the zombie had in it. The creature fell forward into Erik. Its black putrid blood drenched Erik’s twice washed shirt. Erik screams.

“God, please don’t let me touch the blood… dont… no… please God.”

The zombie grabs Erik’s shirt. Erik twists and turns to free himself. The creature bleeds a thick putrid liquid. Erik shoved the creature forward. It lost its footing and fell. The sheet of aluminum slips from the wound and thunders to the ground.

Erik stumbles backward. He removes his shirt and pants. He skirts back and hides within the darkness. He stares at the motionless creature till his eyes become heavy and he falls asleep.

The sound of hammers, multiple hammers wakes Erik from his sleep. Voices echo.

“This is a stupid place to hide. Have you seen the large picture windows. Dude, find some large sheets of wood or something.”

“Shut up yo.. This is the only thing close we could find. Don’t criticize.”

“Get out!” Erik shouted from the darkness.

“What the hell was that,” said one of the voices.

“There is someone in here, you idiot.” Replied the other.

“Settle it down,” commanded another. The voice is foreign with a heavy French accent.

“It’s likely a survivor.”

“Get out!” Erik repeated forcefully.

“We are not here to harm you, brother. We are here for shelter. We were captured and tossed into the walls of the city. This is the closest safe shelter, replied the French man.

“You’ll see how safe it is when you fall into my traps,” Erik replied.

“What traps,” replied one of others. “Those stupid-ass wires we cut with the weights?”

Erik shoved a sheet of plywood forward. It slipped under the metal shelves, then slid into his ankles. He swore and found himself trapped against the back wall.

Fri May 18 – The Black Bleeder

The aluminum sheet sliced into the soft tissue just above the zombie’s rotten shoulder. It fell forward forcing the sheet of aluminum through its rotten arteries, severing any life the zombie had in it. The creature fell forward into Erik. Its black putrid blood drenched Erik’s twice washed shirt. Erik screams.

“God, please don’t let me touch the blood… dont… no… please God.”

The zombie grabs Erik’s shirt. Erik twists and turns to free himself. The creature bleeds a thick putrid liquid. Erik shoved the creature forward. It lost its footing and fell. The sheet of aluminum slips from the wound and thunders to the ground.

Erik stumbles backward. He removes his shirt and pants. He skirts back and hides within the darkness.

Freewriting Journal Entry May 10th

Heart pacemaker thing installed on my wife or for my wife to keep her from passing out.

It’s a pretty rough thought, knowing there is a device installed… a foreign object in my wife’s shoulder.

Imagine all the object we can now install on our bodies… in our bodies. Robo-humans. Arms, legs, hearts so much.

You know… I heard there are people that have surgery to look like elves. Really…

How about surgery to look like a boxer after a Mike Tyson fight… where the boxer bites your ear?

“Hey, what happened to your ear?”

“Oh nothing it’s supposed to hang down like that.”

“Really? It’s supposed to barely hang like that.. looks disgusting.”

“Well that rude… this is art, man what I do with my body is my business.”

“Sure is,” says the man walking away.

… are you asking for trouble when you do stuff like that? Tattooed face, weird ears… hey look at me!

The only experience I have is wearing fedoras or my custom tshirts. Speaking of that.. I have to run through all my artwork @ http://www.brokenstickstudio.com and add detailed descriptions. Sell it. It’s on my procrastination list.

Should of killed Gary

A bloody spectre of Erik appeared. A doppleganger of the Butcher of Ransom. “You should of killed him,” said his doppleganger.

“I should of done many things, killing Gary will not bring them back.”

“This creature killed your daughter, in front of you… and your wife… she became infected as you did nothing.”

“I was trying to cure the disease. I was doing something. What were you doing creating a weapon?”

Erik turned toward the doppelganger and shoved a shelf full of milk. The gallons of milk fell with a thud and exploded. A zombie growled in the darkness. The doppelganger disappeared as Erik fumed.

“Now I have to wrangle up another zombie and in the dark. Erik looked to his left. He found Gary struggling to stand with a long piece of aluminum thrust through his thin chest. He stumbled into the darkness of the warehouse. The whiskey left his feet huge and heavy. The zombie growled. It’s heavy breath coming closer.

“Light switch… Light switch.. where did I put you,” Erik sang.

The zombie approached. A string struck Erik’s face. He paused, smiled and pulled. A sheet of aluminum fell from the ceiling. Erik leapt forward. His shoulder struck a large steel shelf leg. Pain screamed from his shoulder to his hands. The sheet of aluminum rocked within the stale air of the warehouse. Light from a skylight flooded a small section of the darkness.

Erik rolled to his back, holding his shoulder. He watched as the thin silver sheet struck the black steel shelf, causing it to ring. The sheet then fell forward and into a small zombie woman approaching.

Perfect Teeth

“Move slowly,” Erik told himself as he stared into the pale eyes of the zombie. His right arm was outstretched. His hand holding the glass door open. The zombie’s leathery nose flared as Erik slowly moved his hand backward. The zombie took in a deep breath and reveal it’s rotten… no perfect teeth. It lunged forward. Erik paused for a moment, he saw the teeth polished and healthy.

“What the hell,” Erik shouted as he withdrew his hand. The zombie shoved the door into the adjacent door and the glass shattered. The creature squared it’s body with the frame of the open doorway and bared it’s teeth.

“Gary!” Erik shouted. “Gary, have you been brushing your teeth? I lost my teeth six months into this tragedy and you have thirty-some tighty-whities two years later. What the hell… I thought we were friends. You know we can’t be friends anymore… liar.”

Erik dropped the bottle of whiskey from his left hand and grabbed the left side if the zombies head. He attempted to push it sideways. The creature resisted as Erik’s hand began to sink into the rot on its face. The zombie turned it’s face and Erik’s arm came within intches of those perfect teeth.

“My god, Gary,” Erik shouted then shoved the zombie backward with his foot. The zombie fell backward into a stove shelf. The dusty products cascading to the floor. The noise echoing of the walls. Another zombie growled or was it a delightful squeal? It stumbled through the darkness of the warehouse.

Whiskey

“Bah..ba…bam.. I don’t want to doubt you… wishing I could run..” Erik sings parts of Love You Madly. A song long past it’s prime. The thought of life when the music flowed through the Internet… Erik brushed it away and swallowed the rest of the whiskey he found.

He watched a zombie stumble through the aisles of the abandoned grocery.

“Gary!” Erik shouted, opening the glass doors of the defunct refrigerator.

Startled, the zombie leapt, but soon returned to it’s aimless search for the living.

Erik reached for a gallon of solidified milk, he opened the door wide and threw the jug at the zombie.

“Hey, stink-face. Eat me.”

The jug exploded against a store aisle. The solidified milk burst from the jug, covering the zombie in white.

Erik laughed… coughed… then laughed again.

The zombie turned and growled. It then marched toward Erik.

“Gary is mad.. Gary is mad…” Erik taunted between fits of laughter. “Ha…”

A noise within the dark store warehouse changed his mood.

Did he lock the back door? Did someone figure out his traps and walk inside?

A crash from within the darkness confirms Erik’s fear. He curses and attempts the close the glass door but it will not move.

“Holy crap,”

Am I back?

I want to take this moment, while I’m on the throne to ponder whether I am back to writing and this blog. I’ve been thinking a out it a lot.

What have I been doing? You say?

Well, working and growing my artistic talents mainly. I’ve been working really hard on something that I feel will get me somewhere. Writing, while I love it.. is just not do it that. Sorry, writing muse.. but…

I am back on this blog and I am posting so… Am I back?