Post by Isabela on Aug 30, 2008 9:36:53 GMT -6
This was a birthday gift for a friend.
Please let me know what you think after you read.
“Quietly and quickly,” his cloth mouth mumbled as he passed through the gaping door. Voices were coming from the living room, loud and annoying, must be male he mused. A grin formed across his fabric lips, displaying his tiny, yet jagged choppers. He focused on keeping his composure, though hiding under the sofa, pretending to be a stuffed doll seemed too conspicuous, his appearance was alarming to even the simplest of minds. A doll, no larger then a foot, deformed from many years of hells fire. He resembled what one might have thought Satan's child to look like. A thin layer of cloth covering bloody muscle, black sunken eyes, claws a yellowish hue, and teeth that refused to stay hidden beneath purple lips.
On many occasions, Cristhian lurked in the shadows of an abandoned house, hoping innocent fools would stumble upon his existence. He prided himself on choosing his own name, Cristhian, a religiously acceptable name given to such a soulless monster. Though his master had lost him many years ago, he found that the free life, outside the walls of hell, was rather pleasing to him.
Sliding beneath the sofa, his small frame remained hidden from the oblivious newcomers.
“Oh come on Nick, don’t be such a pansy,” the first one said, a wicked smile playing across his lips. The adventurous ones are always the best tasting, Cristhian though, remembering the mouth-watering taste of human flesh. He forced control over the fighting temptation, patience was the key to murder. No not murder, survival, eat or be eaten, they were his prey. He mulled over the thoughts, waiting for the second one to appear.
Nick was slightly taller than the adventurous one, he was larger as well, not fat just well fed. Cristhian cursed his dissatisfaction, disappointed that the taller Mexican was skin and bones. Still he had Nick to feast upon, though the large hoodie hid his body, the little rag doll could sense the waiting feast beneath it.
“Don’t call me a pansy Armando, I hate it when you call me that, “ Nick grunted, he kicked the dusty sofa with a sigh.
As the boys lingered about Cristhian weighed his options, Armando the thinner, seemingly sick one, or Nick the juicer one.
His meals had been reduced to rats and roaches since the family that lived there before went missing. To the outside world they were missing, only did little Cristhian know where they had gone to. Their screams and cries still made him smile, though it happened so many years ago. In fact, they were his first subjects, he studied their habits and learned much about humans. Of course the situation was odd, six females living in one home on the outskirts of the city. Their names had been something like, Abril, Mina, Ana, Sharan, Megen, and Alivia. The English language was still foreign to his tongue, not like the language of hell. At present time he was able to understand better, still he had fun killing those useless humans. He remembered how he was able to take all six down in the same day, so easy in fact he couldn’t help but play a game just for kicks.
But those were females, thought to be the lesser of the human race. Males could be much more dangerous, not as smart as the females, but supposedly stronger. He tapped his little foot against the floor, tossing his options in his head.
“I’m just messing with you. This place is a little creepy huh,” Armando twirled a lampshade, glancing around the living room.
“Yeah, it’s like something you’d see off the twilight zone.” Nick poked his head into the kitchen, “Hey dude, look.” On the kitchen floor lay the scattered remains of Cristhian’s latest meals, tidiness wasn’t something he practiced.
“Some while animal, or maybe it’s a monster that lives in the walls waiting for people to come so he can eat them,” Armando shrugged. If Cristhian had a heart it would have skipped a beat, the boy didn’t know how close to the truth that was. He had to clamp his mouth shut, to keep from bellowing a bark of laughter.
“Yeah and I’m a princess,” Nick chuckled, sliding to the ajar door, which Cristhian had been in only moments ago.
“A princess?” Armando asked, giving Nick a questionable look. “Man dude, sometimes you’re just… out there,” an awkward silence fell between the two. At that moment Cristhian decided to eliminate Nick first. Though his appearance was quite stronger than Armando, his mind was weaker and unsure.
“Yeah… um… I’m gonna go out back and have a smoke,” he stepped through the kitchen archway and pushed through the back door.
“Sure dude,” Armando turned his back to the kitchen, allowing Cristhian an opportunity to follow.
The backyard was larger, no fence due to the fact that it was already isolated from the city. Large trees loomed high above, blocking most of the winter wind. The untouched snow crunched under Nicks heavy boots, a cloud of smoke following as he walked to the tree-line.
“Creepy place alright,” he mumbled, taking a long drag of his smoke.
Cristhian waited in the shadow of the trees, Nick was approaching rather quickly. He scratched his claws at that bark, taming his excitement, an attack too soon would ruin his chance of a weeks worth of food.
At the first tree, Nick kicked it, knocking the snow from the bottom of his boots. He spotted what looked like cloth, snatching the damp doll from the ground he smirked. It was a hideously deformed thing, sort of reminded him of Chucky for it had a badly mangled face and such.
Before Nick could toss him, Cristhian lurched forward. His teeth, similar to that of a small great white shark, sank into the soft tissue of his victims neck.
On first instinct Nick fell backwards, desperately trying to rip the rag doll away. His stiff fingers clamped around the dolls legs, pulling with as much force as he could. Confusion clouded his mind, his limbs worked, though his mind struggled to send electrical signals to each nerve, controlling the normal functions seemed to be a challenge.
Cristhian locked his jaw, with each pull from the human a bit of flesh ripped with his hold. Blood slipped from the gaping wounds, staining the snow around them a deep maroon. With a sharp jump backwards, Cristhian pulled the flesh and muscle from it’s resting. Nick’s vocals had already been crushed with the dolls first grasping bite, he only gurgled and choked on his own blood.
The rag doll looked at the heap of meat convulsing in front of him, the want or need to feed on this soon to be carcass was over whelming. He figured he could take all the organs while they were still warm and his meal still alive.
Then he remembered the other one, Armando, still within the house prowling and poking about.
“Don’t you go anywhere Nick, I’ll be back soon.” Nicks eyes stared at the doll, the life draining from his neck as he slowly began to die.
That one was too quick, he though, perhaps I’ll have my fun now. Methods of torture flooded his mind, yet torture wasn’t what he wanted. Yes his teeth were sharp, claws could kill too, but he liked the classic touch. A knife, steel blade, sharp edge slicing through the very being of a man. The warmth of his life stealing away with each drop of carefully drawn blood. His soul trickling down the tool of an artist, whose art could only be seen by the eyes of the unfortunate. Though they should feel honor and pride for being chosen as a piece to add to his collection. Of course pain would be the only catch, but since when was pain not worth honor? Cristhian frowned, modern day beliefs were not like they were back then. He tried to picture the religious act of sacrificing a life to please the gods, but conjuring up the whole image of Ahuitzotl cutting thousands of people and eating their hearts made him want to rush and swiftly kill Armando.
“Aztec,” he sighed, “such a wonderful civilization gone to waste for these menageries.” He climbed through the gutter to the roof were he dropped into the house from a hole beneath a few shingles.
All the while, Armando stalked through the house, becoming increasingly bored. At a certain point the began talking to himself, but he didn’t answer back to his own questions, only crazy people do that.
While walking through the living room, his shoe got caught on a protruding floorboard. His hand caught the small table, but his shoulder knocked over the lamp. Yellow glass sprayed the floor, bouncing a few seconds after the initial crash. Armando stood silent before bursting into a fit of laughter. He found a couple of dishes from the kitchen cabinet and began to throw them against the ground, still laughing as he did so.
Cristhian watched bewildered, strange behavior, especially when he thought this one was the mentally strong one. While Armando continued his rampage, the rag doll crawled through a molded wall in the room to the kitchen. In the drawer beneath the oven he kept a few necessities from the previous occupants. A knife, few matches, simple things of that sort. With gentle care he removed the knife, caressing the blade as if his touch was to reassure it that its purpose was more than mindless killing.
“What…” Armando gazed at the doll carrying the kitchen knife, his left hand bled from a small scratch. Cristhian tilted his head and grinned, prey meets predator. “What are you?” he asked, more curious than scared. His voice wavered slightly, yet he didn’t move, Armando just stood like a deer caught in headlights.
“I’m a little of this, a little of that, more of that than this.” Armando furrowed his brows, not only did that not answer his question, but it confused him a bit.
Scrambling quickly, Cristhian leaped towards Armando, his knife stabbing through the thin veil of skin covering the shin. He tried to shake the rag doll off, flailing his arms at him, kicking the sofa. He cried out in pain, losing his balance as he brought his leg up to cradle it. Cristhian sliced and thrust the knife in at random, killing the screams but keeping the subject alive. The artist created a masterpiece, designs etched so meticulously that even Cristhian felt proud of his creation.
He left the corpse lying in the living room, Nick’s body still lay on the snow near the trees, he pondered on how he would get the body back into the house. But soon decided to cover it with snow, as if freezing it for future use.
Back inside he sat with his knife picking squares of flesh from Armando’s stomach, his feast lasted well into the night, until he was too full to go on. He curled up in the hallow of the corpse’s stomach, drifting off into a sweet slumber.
Please let me know what you think after you read.
“Quietly and quickly,” his cloth mouth mumbled as he passed through the gaping door. Voices were coming from the living room, loud and annoying, must be male he mused. A grin formed across his fabric lips, displaying his tiny, yet jagged choppers. He focused on keeping his composure, though hiding under the sofa, pretending to be a stuffed doll seemed too conspicuous, his appearance was alarming to even the simplest of minds. A doll, no larger then a foot, deformed from many years of hells fire. He resembled what one might have thought Satan's child to look like. A thin layer of cloth covering bloody muscle, black sunken eyes, claws a yellowish hue, and teeth that refused to stay hidden beneath purple lips.
On many occasions, Cristhian lurked in the shadows of an abandoned house, hoping innocent fools would stumble upon his existence. He prided himself on choosing his own name, Cristhian, a religiously acceptable name given to such a soulless monster. Though his master had lost him many years ago, he found that the free life, outside the walls of hell, was rather pleasing to him.
Sliding beneath the sofa, his small frame remained hidden from the oblivious newcomers.
“Oh come on Nick, don’t be such a pansy,” the first one said, a wicked smile playing across his lips. The adventurous ones are always the best tasting, Cristhian though, remembering the mouth-watering taste of human flesh. He forced control over the fighting temptation, patience was the key to murder. No not murder, survival, eat or be eaten, they were his prey. He mulled over the thoughts, waiting for the second one to appear.
Nick was slightly taller than the adventurous one, he was larger as well, not fat just well fed. Cristhian cursed his dissatisfaction, disappointed that the taller Mexican was skin and bones. Still he had Nick to feast upon, though the large hoodie hid his body, the little rag doll could sense the waiting feast beneath it.
“Don’t call me a pansy Armando, I hate it when you call me that, “ Nick grunted, he kicked the dusty sofa with a sigh.
As the boys lingered about Cristhian weighed his options, Armando the thinner, seemingly sick one, or Nick the juicer one.
His meals had been reduced to rats and roaches since the family that lived there before went missing. To the outside world they were missing, only did little Cristhian know where they had gone to. Their screams and cries still made him smile, though it happened so many years ago. In fact, they were his first subjects, he studied their habits and learned much about humans. Of course the situation was odd, six females living in one home on the outskirts of the city. Their names had been something like, Abril, Mina, Ana, Sharan, Megen, and Alivia. The English language was still foreign to his tongue, not like the language of hell. At present time he was able to understand better, still he had fun killing those useless humans. He remembered how he was able to take all six down in the same day, so easy in fact he couldn’t help but play a game just for kicks.
But those were females, thought to be the lesser of the human race. Males could be much more dangerous, not as smart as the females, but supposedly stronger. He tapped his little foot against the floor, tossing his options in his head.
“I’m just messing with you. This place is a little creepy huh,” Armando twirled a lampshade, glancing around the living room.
“Yeah, it’s like something you’d see off the twilight zone.” Nick poked his head into the kitchen, “Hey dude, look.” On the kitchen floor lay the scattered remains of Cristhian’s latest meals, tidiness wasn’t something he practiced.
“Some while animal, or maybe it’s a monster that lives in the walls waiting for people to come so he can eat them,” Armando shrugged. If Cristhian had a heart it would have skipped a beat, the boy didn’t know how close to the truth that was. He had to clamp his mouth shut, to keep from bellowing a bark of laughter.
“Yeah and I’m a princess,” Nick chuckled, sliding to the ajar door, which Cristhian had been in only moments ago.
“A princess?” Armando asked, giving Nick a questionable look. “Man dude, sometimes you’re just… out there,” an awkward silence fell between the two. At that moment Cristhian decided to eliminate Nick first. Though his appearance was quite stronger than Armando, his mind was weaker and unsure.
“Yeah… um… I’m gonna go out back and have a smoke,” he stepped through the kitchen archway and pushed through the back door.
“Sure dude,” Armando turned his back to the kitchen, allowing Cristhian an opportunity to follow.
The backyard was larger, no fence due to the fact that it was already isolated from the city. Large trees loomed high above, blocking most of the winter wind. The untouched snow crunched under Nicks heavy boots, a cloud of smoke following as he walked to the tree-line.
“Creepy place alright,” he mumbled, taking a long drag of his smoke.
Cristhian waited in the shadow of the trees, Nick was approaching rather quickly. He scratched his claws at that bark, taming his excitement, an attack too soon would ruin his chance of a weeks worth of food.
At the first tree, Nick kicked it, knocking the snow from the bottom of his boots. He spotted what looked like cloth, snatching the damp doll from the ground he smirked. It was a hideously deformed thing, sort of reminded him of Chucky for it had a badly mangled face and such.
Before Nick could toss him, Cristhian lurched forward. His teeth, similar to that of a small great white shark, sank into the soft tissue of his victims neck.
On first instinct Nick fell backwards, desperately trying to rip the rag doll away. His stiff fingers clamped around the dolls legs, pulling with as much force as he could. Confusion clouded his mind, his limbs worked, though his mind struggled to send electrical signals to each nerve, controlling the normal functions seemed to be a challenge.
Cristhian locked his jaw, with each pull from the human a bit of flesh ripped with his hold. Blood slipped from the gaping wounds, staining the snow around them a deep maroon. With a sharp jump backwards, Cristhian pulled the flesh and muscle from it’s resting. Nick’s vocals had already been crushed with the dolls first grasping bite, he only gurgled and choked on his own blood.
The rag doll looked at the heap of meat convulsing in front of him, the want or need to feed on this soon to be carcass was over whelming. He figured he could take all the organs while they were still warm and his meal still alive.
Then he remembered the other one, Armando, still within the house prowling and poking about.
“Don’t you go anywhere Nick, I’ll be back soon.” Nicks eyes stared at the doll, the life draining from his neck as he slowly began to die.
That one was too quick, he though, perhaps I’ll have my fun now. Methods of torture flooded his mind, yet torture wasn’t what he wanted. Yes his teeth were sharp, claws could kill too, but he liked the classic touch. A knife, steel blade, sharp edge slicing through the very being of a man. The warmth of his life stealing away with each drop of carefully drawn blood. His soul trickling down the tool of an artist, whose art could only be seen by the eyes of the unfortunate. Though they should feel honor and pride for being chosen as a piece to add to his collection. Of course pain would be the only catch, but since when was pain not worth honor? Cristhian frowned, modern day beliefs were not like they were back then. He tried to picture the religious act of sacrificing a life to please the gods, but conjuring up the whole image of Ahuitzotl cutting thousands of people and eating their hearts made him want to rush and swiftly kill Armando.
“Aztec,” he sighed, “such a wonderful civilization gone to waste for these menageries.” He climbed through the gutter to the roof were he dropped into the house from a hole beneath a few shingles.
All the while, Armando stalked through the house, becoming increasingly bored. At a certain point the began talking to himself, but he didn’t answer back to his own questions, only crazy people do that.
While walking through the living room, his shoe got caught on a protruding floorboard. His hand caught the small table, but his shoulder knocked over the lamp. Yellow glass sprayed the floor, bouncing a few seconds after the initial crash. Armando stood silent before bursting into a fit of laughter. He found a couple of dishes from the kitchen cabinet and began to throw them against the ground, still laughing as he did so.
Cristhian watched bewildered, strange behavior, especially when he thought this one was the mentally strong one. While Armando continued his rampage, the rag doll crawled through a molded wall in the room to the kitchen. In the drawer beneath the oven he kept a few necessities from the previous occupants. A knife, few matches, simple things of that sort. With gentle care he removed the knife, caressing the blade as if his touch was to reassure it that its purpose was more than mindless killing.
“What…” Armando gazed at the doll carrying the kitchen knife, his left hand bled from a small scratch. Cristhian tilted his head and grinned, prey meets predator. “What are you?” he asked, more curious than scared. His voice wavered slightly, yet he didn’t move, Armando just stood like a deer caught in headlights.
“I’m a little of this, a little of that, more of that than this.” Armando furrowed his brows, not only did that not answer his question, but it confused him a bit.
Scrambling quickly, Cristhian leaped towards Armando, his knife stabbing through the thin veil of skin covering the shin. He tried to shake the rag doll off, flailing his arms at him, kicking the sofa. He cried out in pain, losing his balance as he brought his leg up to cradle it. Cristhian sliced and thrust the knife in at random, killing the screams but keeping the subject alive. The artist created a masterpiece, designs etched so meticulously that even Cristhian felt proud of his creation.
He left the corpse lying in the living room, Nick’s body still lay on the snow near the trees, he pondered on how he would get the body back into the house. But soon decided to cover it with snow, as if freezing it for future use.
Back inside he sat with his knife picking squares of flesh from Armando’s stomach, his feast lasted well into the night, until he was too full to go on. He curled up in the hallow of the corpse’s stomach, drifting off into a sweet slumber.
