Sunday, August 22, 2021

Presenting my new podcast CHANNEL AB3!

 

On 9/6/21 the first episode of my new podcast will explode meekly across the Internet!

 

Channel Ab3 will feature stories that have already appeared here and on other websites. It will also have my movie recommendations, stories from public domain and some classic old time radio shows. 


Here is a mini-episode to give you a taste.

 


To subscribe or become a supporter stop by our Anchor FM page or ChannelAb3.com.

 

Do you have any comments or questions? Email us at Ab3@channelAb3.com or follow us on Twitter @ChannelAb3com. You can even leave us a voicemail!


Did you know we have a webpage? Stop by ChannelAb3.com to learn more!






Friday, August 20, 2021

Classic Story: A Man Called Corpse

 

A Man Called Corpse
by
Al Bruno III

There was no accident. Those things did it and they'll do it again. Even now I can still hear those scratchy little voices saying, “Meat. Meat.”

You know the story from the papers; cross country bus blows a tire and goes crashing into a ravine in the Arizona desert, thirty-seven dead or vanished and one survivor.

Some of you might think this is an appropriate punishment. At the time fleeing from New York to Los Angeles seemed like my only option. Did I think about Claire waiting at the altar in front of an audience of her family and friends? No, not at all.

It happened about an hour after we crossed the state line. What I remember is the bus swerving and pitching over. Everyone was thrown against the ceiling then back to the floor. We rolled seven times in all. I struck the roof of the bus head first, there was a loud crack that I felt and heard.

I'm not sure how long I was out, long enough for the bus to stop rolling but not much more than that. All around me people were sobbing and groaning, some were calling 911, the pale light from their cell phones casting an ugly glow over everything. The bus had landed on its side, a pair of seats had torn loose from the floor and I was pinned beneath them. Only my head and left arm were free but I couldn’t move them. I couldn’t even feel them. I was right beside a dead man, he was staring at me with a surprised expression. 

The things came crawling in through the shattered windshield. I thought they were children at first but the light of the cell phones revealed they were naked, gray skinned Things. The people near the front of the bus started screaming. Groups of the things surrounded each survivor and started chanting “Meat. Meat!” before dragging them away. Whenever those things came upon someone that had died they would prod and sniff at the body experimentally. Once were sure of it they would hiss “Corpse.” and move on.

Most of the survivors were too injured to move, those that did try to run or fight didn't make it far.

I knew what I had to do, I laid perfectly still in the blood and the broken glass with my eyes closed and my breathing shallow. Be dead. I thought to myself, Be dead.

“Meat! Meat!”

Corpse!”

I listened to them toy with the dead body beside me, lifting its head up and dropping it back down on the broken glass. “Corpse.” The thing sounded disappointed, “Corpse.”

Maybe you would have screamed by now. How long could you have held your breath? How long could you have laid still? There is no doubt in my mind that being hidden under a pile of twisted metal and fabric is one of the things that saved my life.

Just one of them.

The things began sniffing at me, their breath smelled of rot and reptiles. I imagined my skin prickling with revulsion. I was sure Those things would notice, I was sure that any moment They would take me like the others.

“Corpse?”

One of Them took an experimental bite out of my arm. I only noticed because of the warm spray that hit my face. There was the sound of thoughtful chewing.

Corpse.”

Then they left.

Where did Those Things take the survivors? And  why didn’t the police and paramedics find any footprints or drag marks in the desert sand?  The authorities are blaming coyotes but they’ve seen the teeth marks on me. No coyote leaves a wound like that. 

The police just won’t believe me. They roll their eyes and tell me I was unconscious and dreaming the whole time.

I’ve given up trying to make them listen. I just want to go home, I want to get out of this hospital and out of this state but the doctors say it isn’t safe to do that. They say I have a long recovery ahead before travel becomes an option. Internal decapitation is what they call it. When my head hit on the roof of the bus my spine separated from my skull. I’m paralyzed from the neck down, I can’t feel anything; not my legs or my arms, not even a bite on the shoulder. That’s what saved me.

My parents and brother are coming to see me. They couldn’t afford a flight from New York, we’re not wealthy people, so they’re driving here. Dad called a couple of times from the road to check in. He even called to let me know they when they were crossing the Arizona border.

Thing is I haven’t heard from them since, and that was two days ago.

Thursday, August 19, 2021

Guess who's back. Back Again.

 Hey folks. I am back with a new podcast. It will feature my stories and works from the public domain.

 


Please enjoy and subscribe!

Saturday, February 3, 2018

THE BINDER OF SHAME - totally true made up gaming stories



The RPG.net Rants
Uncensored, Unforgettable and Uncorrected

2002 was the year I first started to post stories for the amusement of others. (Aside from that shameful X-FILES fan fiction of course.) I began with these gaming anecdotes that I shared on the forums of RPG.net, a relatively safe haven for me at the time. They were strange little tales told in a kind of screenplay format that I used when I sketched out story dialogue.

The first one was pretty simple but as they went on they became more and more grandiose but they were raw and fun little bits of humor. I never bothered to proofread the things or set up any real kind of coherence or internal continuity- although snippets of these tales do show up in PRICE BEAKS AND HEARTACHES.

I'm posting them to the blog so I can add them to version of THE BINDER OF SHAME I keep here. I will do the first two today and then set up one a week until they're all there.

I've moved on a lot since I first created them but many of the folks that first came to know me through them are still reading my work now and they still keep finding new readers all the time.

If you have no idea what I am talking about prepare to be amazed, amused and offended.

And be warned these stories appear exactly as I did when I posted them on the forums. I haven't tried to edit them for fear of diluting their raw power.

Also I'm pretty damn lazy...






The Binder of Shame 
The Second Edition