Tuesday, September 7, 2010
In The Shadow Of His Nemesis chapter eighty
In The Shadow Of His Nemesis
Chapter Eighty
By AL BRUNO III
Saturday, December 4th 1996
The Donnrup launched themselves through the trees. Despite their near human size they flew, their wings buzzing like empty madness, their carapaces shining dully. Their segmented eyes twitched this way and that, their gaping mandibles slavered. Their six limbs were frail-looking and their abdomens ended in blunt looking stingers. The Monarchs had evolved and designed these creatures in equal measure.
One by one they alighted upon Laurel House and began destroying it, windows were shattered, walls were torn away. A soundless, terrified scream worked its way up from the heart of Damiea’s Crucible. Laurel House shuddered and began to curl in upon itself.
The Drones surrounded the house, ready to capture anyone that tried to escape the Monarchs’ hunger. Piers Suano and Cheryl McGlade stood beside the gazebo and watched. Mr. Suano was standing straight, his arms crossed over his chest; Miss McGlade had her fingers steepled beneath her chin, every so often she would ask a question. “I can feel it crying out.” she said, “Can a god suffer?”
Piers Suano smiled, “Oh yes. I like to think they suffer more.”
“Why?”
“Because they don’t have faith to fall back on.”
Wood snapped, doors were torn away, shingles rained down onto the ground. The glass walls of the solarium splintered. The Donnrup clicked their mandibles with pleasure- obedience to their masters was the only joy they would ever know.
A figure leapt from the exposed upper floors and landed on the back of a Donnrup and tore at its wings. When that one began to plummet earthward the figure leapt to another. His long blonde hair streamed out from behind his head.
Mr. Suano drew his sidearm and waited until his target was in mid air again. He fired.
A streamer of blood erupted from Jack Waterford’s leg and he came down hard. The Drones- human looking, empty eyed and dressed in gray- were on him.
Wounded and unable to stand Jack Waterford fought back with the impossible strength that had been his birthright. His blows sent the Drones tumbling and left some too broken to stand.
Miss. McGlade drew her own pistol but Piers Sauno pushed her arm back down, “Wait.”
Screaming with pain Jack stood on one leg. The other was nothing but red from the knee down. A Drone tried to tackle him. Jack grabbed it by the throat and lifted.
A Donnrup slammed into Jack Waterford, its stinger tearing through the flesh of his back. A Donnrup dies after it stings but Jack died long before it. The toxins that had spilled into his body left his flesh smoldering from the inside.
Cheryl McGlade looked confused, “I thought we wanted them alive.”
“Not that one,” Mr. Sauno re-holstered his weapon, “we need knowledge and power to further our mission but the Monarchs don’t need the likes of Spring Heeled Jack.”
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Fifty Six
She said, “I can't understand why we're friends.”
“We're more than friends.” He replied.
“I can't understand that either.” she said
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Fifty Five
She quit being an exotic dancer to work in tech support, she went back to stripping to save her sense of self-esteem.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Fifty Four
Illness prevented him for being at Clown College for finals week, luckily he passed the make up exam.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Fifty Three
Abner Deggent liked to call himself a mercenary but anyone that hired him soon realized he was a soldier of misfortune.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Fifty Two
“Directives from corporate are like intestinal parasites, one is bad but when they come in groups everything gets backed up."
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Fifty One
Morbidly obese Special Agent Mario Krump hated hostage situations, they made the undersides of his man-boobs sweaty.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Fifty
He found blogging more efficient that submitting to magazines, because now he could be ignored by millions almost instantly.
And now the trailer for THE WICKER TREE!
The is the sequel to Robin Hardy's THE WICKER MAN. The real WICKER MAN- fuck the Neil Lanbute version.
Thanks to Horror Squad for the heads up.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Forty Nine
It was the dream of perverts everywhere, a vibrating Snuggie.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Sunday, September 5, 2010
(Recommended Reads) "Bearing Gifts" by Marisa Birns
I'm as ready as I'll ever be, Molly thought as she looked in the hall mirror and brushed back a strand of hair from her forehead. Although she had to beg, Charlie agreed to share a drink with her and was coming over..
Roadside Velvet part four
Price Breaks and Heartaches
A journal of retail and failed romance
Chapter Four
Roadside Velvet
part four
The search for fresh markets and suckers had us venturing further and further out from Albany as the summer wore on. By the third week of June we were doing business in Vermont. Sales were brisk and the drinking age was 18. Paul put us up in a motel rather than having us make a three hour drive all the way home each night. It was five of us; Paul, Athena, myself and two of the Casey brothers, Conrad and Lonnie. We had dinner at a little bar and grill the first night.
*
The lights were dim, the music had too much base and the restrooms were best avoided. There were too many of us for a booth so we sat at a table, our chairs crowding against one another.
Have I described Paul DeSanti for you? He was a middle aged man with a middle aged gut and sly smile, the most noticeable thing about him was his toupee. It flew in the face of everything I thought toupees were for. Wasn’t a hairpiece supposed to make you look better? Paul’s toupee made him look like a homeless person that had gone rooting around in Burt Reynolds’s garbage.
Of course you already know about Lonnie’s Frankenstein-like proportions and Athena’s sheer unadulterated sexiness but let me bring you up to speed on Conrad. He was spindly with a spiky hairdo and eyes that seemed too large and watery for his face. He always looked like he was about to apologize for something.
“There were spiders all inside the crate of Rambo posters,” Conrad’s voice was quivery. “Someone else can unpack those things from now on. I’m allergic.”
Paul made a helpless gesture, “Then what are you going to do?”
“I could sell stuff and take the money. It doesn’t just have to be just Al.”
Paul leaned forward, “Speaking of Al, you enjoying that Long Island Ice Tea?”
“Yeah but it doesn’t taste much like tea at all.”
Paul gave me a nudge, “Hey Al that redhead you were checking out is here.”
“No way,” I gave a panicked look around.
“What’s this about?” Athena asked.
“Get this…” Paul began.
I groaned, “Oh no…”
“Al’s walking around while Lonnie and me are counting inventory. This girl starts looking at merchandise and you can see Al’s drooling.”
“I was not drooling!”
Athena gave me a playful wink, “Trust me Al, you drool.”
Paul continued, “So he’s checking this girl out, and she’s got this long red hair and an ass like a cherry. He walks up to her and asks her if she sees anything she wants.”
“Oh no…” Conrad tittered.
“Then she turns around and she looks like a shrunken apple head doll. Then she flashed him a grin and her front two teeth are missing!”
Everyone at the table laughed, even me. I explained, “Redheads are a weakness of mine.”
“Oh really?” Athena smiled. “I thought gentlemen preferred blondes.”
“As long as it’s the right blonde.” I smiled back at her and then tried to look serious, “If I feel like it.”
Paul said, “Well everyone has a kind of girl they like. I like girls with brown eyes myself.”
Lonnie nodded, “I like mongoloid girls.”
The table went dead silent, my Long Island ice tea almost slipped from my grip, “You… what?”
“You know Asian chicks.”
Athena’s voice took a gentle tone, “I don’t think… that‘s not really… I think you should just say Asian. I think that’s better.”
“Why?” Lonnie’s expression was confused and guileless.
“It’s just…” Athena searched for the words. She looked to Paul and Conrad but they were too busy convulsing and snickering
“More flattering,” I suggested.
“Yeah,” Athena agreed. “More flattering.”
Lonnie shook his head, “Oh.”
“And on that note,” Paul got up, “I’m gonna check on the truck one last time and then get us some rooms.”
“Lonnie and Conrad come on,” We all stood but Paul gestured for Athena and me to sit back down. “You kids finish your drinks. We’ll come and get you.”
He handed Athena a handful of bills, “You take care of the tab and keep the rest.”
Once they had left I turned to Athena, “So we’re alone at last… not that I give a damn or anything.”
“Are you ok?” She asked. “You’ve been acting a little weird today.”
“Must be my carefree attitude,” I said. “You know once we get settled in we should go for a walk. Well I’m going to go for a walk anyway but you may as well come along if you want, not that I need anyone to walk with.”
“Wow,” she shook her head. “I’m not even drunk and I have no idea what you’re saying.”
“I’m not sure I do either… but I’m not concerned about that kind of stuff.”
“I hate these road trips,” she took another swig of beer. “Uncle Paul’s too cheap to get private rooms so we have to double up.”
I had been feeling a pleasant buzz through most of the evening but I was suddenly sober, “Double up?”
“Yeah. Nothing worse than sharing a room with a guy,” she shook her head. “You’re all snorers and using the bathroom in the middle of the night is like taking your life in your hands.”
“You know,” I began. “I was raised by my mother, grandmother and great grandmother so I never leave the seat up. In fact I usually pee sitting down… I don’t know why did I said that … not that I don’t really care.”
“Besides,” Athena finished her beer. “I hate having to wear anything to bed but you can’t really do that when you’re…”
The glass holding the Long Island iced tea shattered in my hand.
Friday, September 3, 2010
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Forty Eight
The nude rapper liked to end his shows by yelling “Piece out!”
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Forty Seven
“It there's one thing I've learned it's never to trust a funeral parlor with a free buffet.”
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Forty Six
“Old super heroes never die,” Amoeba Man said, “they just keep getting revived in increasingly improbable ways.”
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Five Hundred and Forty Five
It wasn't until her fifth marriage in six years that she realized she was addicted to wedding cakes.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
CORPSE WARS: The Fandom Menaced episode four
Corpse Wars by Jorge Prieto
Corpse Wars:
The Fandom Menaced
episode four
By
Al Bruno III
The front door of the house crashed open, Mark let the rake go so he could glare at Alec, “Well I hope you’re happy because –”
Except it wasn’t Alec standing there, it was a dead woman with blood all over her and one of her eyes dangling loosely from the socket. Snarling she shambled towards Mark. The zombie in the car was gnawing eagerly on the rake.
“Alec?” Mark said, “Alec?”
A cluster of ten of the things rounded the corner, their voices a mumble of misery and hunger.
Mark thought, Oh fuck. Fuck this!
Mark dove for the ten speed bicycle and started pedaling. In less then a minute he was back on the deserted street, he angled the bicycle so he was heading for Central Avenue and let himself coast for a moment. He couldn’t stop wondering what had happened to Alec in that house.
Mark felt a twinge of remorse at the thought. What if Alec wasn’t dead? What if he was trapped and waiting for rescue?
Then he would have shouted. He would have said something. The man can… The man could scream.
Central Avenue was a maze of wrecked cars and shattered storefronts, there was broken glass everywhere. Mark steer the bicycle onto the sidewalk.
A minivan lay toppled on its side, its empty window frames gaped, the child protective seats lying tattered and broken nearby. The internal DVD player was still something shifted inside the minivan.
Mark said to himself, “It looks like they’re all heading in the same direction, northeast.They’re going deeper into the suburban neighborhoods, by now they might have reached… home.”
Mark started pedaling faster. In his mind's eye he could already see his parents’ house. The front door battered down, his parents retreating against the scores of hungry dead. He imagined them blundering further and further back into the house until finally they found themselves cornered in his room. Mark flinched away from the vision of his parents being torn limb from limb, their precious lifeblood forever staining his Star Wars collector plates and action figures.
No!
The edge of his Jedi robe snagged in the spokes of the bicycle's rear wheels dragging him backwards off the seat. The bicycle flipped over. Mark's head hit the pavement with a resounding crack, stars flashed before his eyes.
Then the bicycle landed on his crotch and the stars made the leap to hyperspace.
Blinking back tears Mark tried to stand but everything hurt too much. This would never had happened if he had worn his Storm Trooper outfit. If only he could have found that damn codpiece! Hissing with pain he brought himself to his knees and realized he had an audience.
There were at least ten of the zombies, milling characteristically around the entrance of a pet store, their hands dripping with the remains of gerbils and wiener dogs. They watched Mark gasping and struggling to his feet with detached fascination.
He started trying to back away only to spy a trio of zombies flanking him. The fat fanboy in Leia’s metal bikini was among the walking dead; his flesh was scored with lacerations, bite marks and electrical burns. When it raised its arms and shambled forward the bottom half of its costume fell away.
“Oh God. Oh my God...” Mark tried to break into a run but only ended up tripping over the bicycle again.
The zombies standing in front of the pet store let their half-eaten meals slip from their hands and moved as one towards him.
A thought stopped Mark in mid-cringe.
Why not? What do I have to lose?
Mark tried to calm himself, tried to become one with the mysterious, germ-carried universal power that bound and controlled the all living things. He raised his hand and tried to push the zombies away with the very force of his will.
The zombies were drawing closer. Mark closed his eyes and tried to let go of his feelings.
A spark seemed to flare inside him, a sensation that even in the midst of this nightmare there was something more, there was someone watching over him.
I think I can really feel it. And I can almost hear Alec’s voice.
“-I said what the Hell are you doing? Get your head down!”
“What?” Mark opened his eyes to see a red escort parked nearby, Alec was leaning out the driver’s side window with a shotgun. Mark ducked. Alec fired again and again. Zombies toppled like dominoes. Blood and splinters of bone filled the air.
“Ok. All clear.”
Slowly, Mark stood on wobbly legs. He tried to flick the gore off his clothes and out of his hair but there was too much of it. “And I thought these things smelled bad on the outside.”
Alec got out of the car, reloading and watching the alleyways, “And I thought I told you to stay put.”
“The basement to that house was the mother-freaking-load my boy. Foodstuffs, weaponry and enough porno to choke a horse.” Alec opened the door for him, “We’re all set.”
“So what now?” Mark sat down, he couldn’t stop shaking.
“The radio says the army has a refugee center set up at the Watervliet Arsenal, we could head there.” Alec got behind the steering wheel, handed the shotgun to Mark and started fiddling with the seat, “I can never get these things right…”
“Let’s just get out of here.”
“Sure. Sure.” Alec put the car in drive.
The red escort started moving down the street, weaving between the wrecked cars and upended garbage bins.
“So…” Alec asked, “What were you doing back there when I showed up?”
“I was just- I panicked… I don’t know what I was doing.”
The older man cracked a wicked grin, “It looked to me like you were trying to use the Force. Didn’t work did it? You’re damn lucky I saved you, damn lucky.”
Mark turned to glare at him, “What do you want? A medal?”
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