Sunday, January 5, 2014

The Land Out of Time

I lived in a land forgotten by all. A desert surrounded by mountains. A land without time. Without hunger or thirst. A land that had no ailments or disease. If you climbed a mountain you could see the never ending sunrise on one side of the world and the never ending sunset on the other. A land that truly strikes the sense of awe. But despite this unique beauty the land lacked something no man could live without. There was infinitely enough to keep one occupied for a thousand lifetimes. But there was one thing this land lacked. Companionship.

So giving up the gift of eternal life this land granted me. I went out in search of someone to share my one lifetime with. So I walked the land. Walked for years but never aged. I eventually came to something I had not seen before in this land. Water. Pools of water. Perfect shaped circles of water. In the confusion of this new spectacle I didn't realize how close I had gotten and I fell in. I gasped out of fear. But breathing in the water had not killed me. I kept going deeper into the water. Soon leaving the light behind. In the darkness I felt for anything. Anything other than water. The deeper I went the more I feared where I was. But with that more curiosity. Soon I felt something. Bubbles of air. I went deeper and deeper. Faster and faster.

Soon I found myself in a new world. After walking out of a forest I saw ruins from an ancient civilization scatter the land. A people that were no longer there. Had I, in my own private world, outlived humanity? Surely not. There must be someone alive. I thought. At that moment my stomach had growled. A sensation I had not felt before. I soon came across some fruits growing on vines against the ruins. I took a bite and the sweet taste filled my mouth. After I had eaten enough to maintain my hunger I continued searching the ruins. I had grown tiresome after a long while of searching. I found a place to lie, and fell into a short sleep.

When I had awoken I realized that the more time I spend in this world the more I showed the traits of a mortal. I knew I had to hurry with my search. I knew that I wanted to live with someone; not to die with someone. I had to take whomever I find back to the world I was from.

I had come across a set of ruins while aimlessly thinking to myself about the curiously aging subject of time. The ruins were of an old library. Upon entering the library a colorful book crossed my eye. Unlike the other books this one was without dust. I opened it and find it is an encyclopedia on various flora and fauna found in the region of the world I was in. I looked up after a period of reading and noticed a bird. I flip to the page where I noticed the bird and read the sound of its call before giving a burlesque impression of it. To my surprise it had called back briefly before it left.

I jumped at a cacophony of shattering glass and darted my eyes around the room. I quickly reserved my equanimity and in my native tongue, called out, "Who's there?" But with no reply I walked around.

After walking around I had quickly found what the glass was that had been shattered. A window! It was from a window! Not knowing where and when I learned the word I looked at the beauty of the other surviving windows. It was then that I noticed what had shattered the window. A rat was lying on the ground with a capricious twitching. It had fallen from a perch it made amongst a ledge on the outside of the building where it crashed through the fragile and thin glass.

I had taken the rat and bird as a good omen, that of life still thriving on this world. With this Elysian viewpoint forerunning my next actions I climbed to the roof of this tall structure. I yelled for the whole world to hear but it was to no avail. After my long fit of shouting that would have taken little to become a tirade I climbed down. It was dark by the time all this had gone down.

Tiredness had sunk in and I lost my sobriety. I tried to remain awake watching the rythmic dances of the fire I built. It was then, that I noticed my shadow, and she was beautiful. Watching me from the other side of the room. When she realized my intentions were not Svengali she began ogling me amorously. It was then that we began our tête-à-tête with the smoke of the fire wafting through the air.

Early in our conversation she seemed rather stoic but with time she began to smile. I could tell she was rather learned, that is, not boorish nor lowbrow. I told her of the world from which I came she was clearly engaged in what I had to say. After describing the gifts my world presents she gave my world a name; Panacea.

She told me the small group of people she was with had died out years prior to my arrival from a disease she, luckily, did not recieve. We soon drifted off into a blissful slumber. When we had awoken we began traversing towards the pool which had given me access to this world. While walking we noticed a flock of birds going the opposite direction as us, not unlike a raft traveling upstream. She mentioned this happens before the temperature rises every year. Upon hearing this I remembered something from where it came, I know not. It is around spring and we are in an area not far north of the equator. When she saw me thinking she muttered an esoteric phrase that nearly flew by my head. "Having fun in your cloud?" I responded simply yes watching her smile. She was a quintessent example of happiness, despite the state the world was in.

We walked close to a large forest containing myriads of trees. When she realized I planned to walk into it she was enraptured with fear and dismal feelings. I told her the pool was not far ahead in this forest. I could tell this did not assuage her fears so I sat down on a rock and asked her to explain why she did not want to enter the forest. She responded quickly with "the beasts will get us." It was not hard to realize she was not being facetious so I asked "what beasts?"

She told me of a creature I had not come across in the books I found in the library. They had green scales like a lizard, but it stood on strong supporting legs like a wolf or large feline. They had claws that had suction pads under them like a gecko but because of their size they were also supported with strong and sharp piercing claws. Normally they climbed and jumped from the different tree branches hunting for birds or smaller reptiles. Their tales were also strong with supporting muscles that allowed them to sleep hanging from branches or lower themselves onto an unsuspecting rodent. They normally do not bother men because they avoid leaving the forest, but are an unfortionate demise for those who wander into the brush.

Living out of the forest seemed purely unnatural to my ideals. But to some tribes wearing clothes seemed an unnatural appurtenance when our thoughts of their nudity would seem the same, like how she and I view the forest differently. I conjured my most glib tone and persuaded her to come into the forest with me. I told her the distance to the pool was not far, nearly an infinitesimal distance if you were to look at it from the clouds.

After a short walk we saw the pool with some things drinking out of it. Those things were the beasts! We hide behind a bush where we see one, slightly larger than the rest, approaching the pool slowely and most ostentatiously. The beast reveled at how the others moved for him to drink. But one of them did not move and the proud beast had an unrequited response by picking up the smaller one by the neck and tossing him out of the way. The smaller one whipped his tail at the beast who caught it in his mouth and while being moved around a fair amount a large piece of the tail had been bitten off. Another of the smaller beasts helped their leader and bit the leg of the turncoat. Now limping as he was ostracized by the group a few of the beasts who had missed their last meal jumped at the opportunity and took a bite as he lands at the edge of the pool, and they received very little struggle. As this happened she screamed alerting our presence to the beasts. They began climbing trees and jumping to branches above us. We raced towards the pool but one of the beasts jumped at her. It bit her leg and I kicked it off. We keep running towards the pool where we dive in before the beasts catch us. They are biting below the surface of the water and one knocks in the injured beast and it falls nearly without life above us. As we swim down further her leg began to sting and she cried out in pain emptying her lungs in a few large bubbles. I looked back and saw this and began pulling her down with me. At that moment she seemed to slip out of life and I knew it was hopeless to continue further. I then saw the injured beast begin to struggle as it sunk past us. I grab it and swim down with it to the world from which I came. My recent loss had made my decisions rash.

I made it to a point where I just seemed to float up to what became the surface of my home world. With the beast in my hands, it was kicking with new life and I thought about the dire thing that I had just done. I set it down fearing what it would do I backed away but it just stood there all calm and tame as though a trained house dog. It seemed that saving the life of this beast earned me a new friendship. Quid pro quo. For an eternity this would - will have to do.

But I'll never forget her. On our first night during our conversation she told me her name, Callele.  Callele asked me my name before and I told her I knew not if I had a name. She dubbed me Neo, which is now the name I will always call myself now while living in my home world which seems almost new to me now. Callele will always be in my heart. I think of her sometimes while the beast, now named Dinsee, runs vehemently with great energy and pride through the mountains of this world.

By: Kylan Walker

Saturday, August 3, 2013

The 50 Dollars or Less Antique Shop

Eric and his girlfriend Mary had always known about the 50 Dollars or Less Antique Shop that was in the older end of town but they had never been in it. Today they finally decided to look into it when they heard some of the stuff is worth a lot more than what it’s sold for. They went in and looked around. Not a lot out of the ordinary. But this antique doll set that Mary was eyeing eventually caught Eric’s attention too. She told him that it was worth a couple hundred bucks so they decided to buy it and resell it. They take a few pictures and then post it online for selling.

The next day a man from the next town over comes by and pays $250 for it. They give him the dolls and he drives off. For two days everything seemed normal. But then he came back and gave them the dolls and told them to keep the money. He then drove off as fast as he could. Confused Mary and Eric look at each other. Then later they post it again.

Another person buys it but two days later the same thing happens. They ask him why he wanted to return it and he frantically said “I don’t want it anymore, just keep those away from me!” He runs over to his car and they ask him to wait but it’s too late. He drove off in a hurry.  They decide to just put the dolls in one of the storage garages. They go home and wonder what made them want to return the dolls.

In the morning they turn on the radio in the car while heading down to the store; when they hear something tragic. The owner of the storage complex had hung himself late in the night. They look at each other and then drive to get the dolls. As soon as they get home they put the dolls in the basement and get out their camera. They set it up to tape all night and they go to sleep.

When they wake up they go down and switch out the memory card. He turns on his laptop and they watch the video together. Nothing happens so they fast forward the video. They slow down right before midnight. At the time-stamp for midnight he could have sworn the largest doll blinked. Eric pauses the video and rewinds it; this time nothing.  Had he just imagined it? Surely not he reassured himself as they watch the rest of the video.

Mary goes out for a walk while Eric stays and researches different types of spirits. The spirit that seemed different than the rest was the one awaked by blood of a relative. These were said to be so rare that there’s no known way of getting rid of them. They were different than most other types of spirits. Most spirits haunted an area or an item. These would exist only where the blood relatives of the person who died had lived at one point. He read a story someone said about a spirit trapped in her apartment that left when the previous resident came to tell her how to fix the issue with the faucet. He read other stories similar to this one and was so caught up in reading them that he didn’t hear the front door shut.

Mary had come home. She asked if he had found anything of interest where he replied “no, not something believable.” They went to make some dinner and discussed what might have happened with the dolls. When they were going to bed the temperature in five rooms of the house were colder than the rest. Five. There were five dolls too.

In the morning they wake up and check on the dolls. They weren’t where they had left them. They go to make breakfast and to their surprise; the dolls were sitting in each of the five chairs at the table. They quickly pick up the dolls and drive them to the dump. They were truly in shock now. Their previous disbelief had disappeared. They went to the antique shop in search of answers.

The owner was the oldest person in town. They asked about the previous owners of the doll. He looked with a smile “why you were.” Mary looking shocked asks “me?” And the shop owner nods. Eric asks “what are you talking about?” The shop owner says “this shop burned down nearly fifty years ago. Killing me along with it. The things in here were items the towns’ people had sold to me over the years. But now the dead come for vessels to the world of the living. The dolls you bought seemed to be possessed by the family in ‘your’ house. When really you were the intruders in the house.” Both Eric and Mary asked at the same time “how did we die?” The shop owner replied “you died together in a car crash. Haven’t you ever noticed that you’re together almost all the time?”

Then at that moment a pale skinned little girl with a flower in her hair walks in through the door holding one of the antique dolls. The shop owner says “the flu has had many tolls this year.” 

By: Kylan Walker

Thursday, June 27, 2013

Hell's Night

Why do people do bad things? Is it because they get some kind of gain from it... or do they just do it because they feel like it? Everyone does bad things for some reason or another. But when someone does something bad enough will it not impress the devil himself?

On a warm night a prisoner lays in his cell tossing and turning. He is not aware of the fate that Hell has planned for him. He awakens from his frightful slumber breathing heavy. He pulls a picture of his daughter from under his pillow. Staring at it he remembers her funeral. The family he knew for years who were the liveliest of folks seemed like strangers in their dark mood. When they were to finally bury his daughter he closed his eyes wishing that when he opened them he would be back at home, admiring a finger painting she had just made. But he knew that when he opened them she would still be dead.

A tear drops from his eye onto the picture of her, he wipes it off quickly so as not to damage it. He tries to go back to sleep but the prison guard knocks on his cell.
“Hey Freddy you having trouble sleeping?”
He responds “Yeah”
The guard takes out a yellow pill container and pops out two small pills.
“Here’s some Benadryl it should help.”
He holds out his hands and catches the pills, taking one at a time.
“Why did you help me?” He asks.
The guard responds with “Well – you don’t fight with the other prisoners and you seem like a good person at heart.”
“I killed my pregnant wife because I was afraid I’d lose another child.” The guard looks down and then walks away.

As Freddy drifts into a deep slumber he begins dreaming again. In time his dream ends but he does not awaken. Instead he finds himself surrounded by fire. “What hell was this? Or is this Hell?” He says loudly. He begins walking forward into a darker cavern where to his surprise he sees movement other than the flames dancing high above him. “Hello?” He shouts. Then being greeted by a thundering voice saying only this: “Follow me.” Freddy knew he had no choice but to follow this tall shadowy being.

After some time has passed and many caverns traversed he begins to realize this being that he is following is Lucifer himself.
Freddy then stops and asks “Why do you want me?”
“Because you possess the evil I desire.”
Freddy then confused says “But I regret killing my wife, I feel guilty about it!”
The being then makes a hollowing laugh. “We both know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t enjoy what you did. Take a look around it’s your home now, destroy the souls of whomever you desire.”
They come up to a door with the words pyro-masochist written along it and Freddy touches it and shrilly jumps away from the heat. The being then pushes the door open revealing a long corridor of metal caskets along the walls with fire surrounding them giving some edges a red hot glow. Each casket having three holes; two for the eyes and one for the mouth.

Freddy then looks closer at a few caskets seeing that the lips and eyelids of every soul in the caskets had been burnt off. Revealing long yellow teeth and piercing eyes. Throughout the corridor a psychotic laughter could be heard out of nearly every mouth accounted for. Freddy then notices one that is not laughing. He is intrigued with this and walks closer. “Why are you not laughing?”
He coughs for a second then says in a raspy voice “Sometimes we enjoy pain because it reminds us of our last happy moments.”

Freddy then walks out and meets back with the being. The being says “Guilt is a type of pain.”
Confused for a second he asks “Why does that matter?”
The being walks past him and says “You felt guilt when you couldn’t save your daughter from pneumonia. Seeing her alive was your last happy moment.”

The next morning a coroner packs Freddy’s body into a body bag and wheels him away on a cart. One of the paramedics says “He died of a heart attack in his sleep.” While writing it onto his report. After finishing his report he finds the picture of Freddy’s daughter in the corner of the pillow and picks it up. One of the cops looks over his shoulder and says “That was his daughter, when his wife got pregnant again he was afraid he would lose his next child so he killed them both. A half hour later came to the station and confessed.” After the cell is cleaned up the few police officers and paramedics leave for their respective duties.

By Kylan Walker 

Monday, June 24, 2013

The Seven Murders of Markus Flair

One stormy evening a young man sits at the side of his mother’s bed weeping. His worst fears become true as he checks her heartbeat – nothing. She was dead, her age and sickness had caught up to her. The young man Markus calls the paramedics and they confirm that she is gone. He drives back to his apartment. He finds his girlfriend Sarah waiting for him drenched by the rain. Markus greeted her and invited her in. “I can’t.” she said. “I just wanted to let you know its over.” She added. As his heart sank all he could ask is “why?” She responds with “you were too attached to your mother; you were never there for me!” She then walked off in fury.

A year later Markus wakes in his room drenched with sweat and his face pale. He says “it’s only a dream Markus, calm down.” He looks over at a picture of his dead mother and begins to weep. “Today’s the day.” He says in despair. He then gets up and proceeds to get dressed. When he’s done he stares at the picture of his mother with worry.

He walks out of his apartment, walking down the road, until he sees a yard with a mother and child. He watches them for a while. His sadness and pain turns to anger. He walks up to the mother where she asks “can I help you?” He just stares at her for a minute then pulls out a knife he had concealed and he slits her throat. The son begins to cry and he stabs him. Markus walks out of the yard in a hurry.

Markus had walked down to the diner his mother took him to every Sunday when he was a child. He looked inside, staring at the table with the seat that faced the paintings. This is the seat he had always sat at. The young girl sitting in the seat had no idea he was watching her. He waits until she steps into the restroom; he walks in after her. As she’s about to close the stall door he forces his way in and chokes her; his grip firm and sturdy.

Upon leaving the diner he notices a couple holding hands. He follows them at a distance. After a few blocks travelled they stop. They begin to kiss. Markus catches up to them and stabs the boy. While the girl is in shock he covers her mouth and stabs her. He runs away quickly as he hears voices coming. A scream pierces the air and Markus looks around and runs in worry.

As he gains distance from the body he walks to his ex-girlfriend’s apartment. He sees her with another man. As they kiss each other goodbye and the man walks away Markus bumps into him in the parking lot. He stabs him but misses any fatal parts of his body. He takes a swing at Markus and they wrestle to the ground. Markus quickly grabs the handle of the knife and pulls upward. Blood rushes out as he dies. Markus gets up to go after Sarah. Now dizzy and weary.

He takes the spare key under the mat of Sarah’s apartment and unlocks the door. She turns around seeing Markus covered in blood; she drops her food and screams. As Markus runs toward her she runs into the kitchen and grabs a knife. He runs at her and takes a stab. They both stare into each other’s eyes shocked for a second. Then Markus looks down and sees Sarah’s knife in his stomach. He falls over and with his last breath says “I’m so sorry.”

By Kylan Walker

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Letters From Lady Death

August 6, 1987
My dear Will,
I know it has been some time since your passing. Just past two years. I often stare at the night sky wondering if one of those glimmering stars is you staring back. Have I not seen the change of the moon more than twenty four times? I often think of you while staring at it. Some nights the white of the moon is the same as that in your eyes. Others it resembles the tan of your skin. Oh how I miss our talks. The way you would go on about the most pointless of things; yet I still listened.
I no longer listen to music for it is not the same as your singing. I miss you dearly. May my heart find comfort I knowing we will be together soon?

August 10, 1987
Dear William,
I know not why I feel your presence around me like my very shadow following me.  I visited the place of our first encounter today. The tear trickling down my cheek dried off quickly in the warm summer’s heat. I wish I could write more, but I must stop in fear of crying myself into an eternal slumber.

August 11, 1987
Dear Will,
I would assume you think it silly that I write to you though you are no longer living. But I feel that someday we will be together out in the stars somewhere that we know not of yet; at least in the living world. And maybe if you are not watching me, then at least you may get my letters I wrote for you. I just want you to know that I am alright and that you are still a part of my life. I hope wherever you are, that you are safe my dear Will.

August 12, 1987
Dear Will,
Today marks four years since we first met; that day I instantly knew I was in love. I saw a happy couple today they reminded me of us, at least until your passing. But seeing them happy saddened me with jealousy. Is that wrong of me to do? I just wish that was us, I wish they were the ones who had to suffer from loss. I guess that is wrong of me to do. But I suppose we all have done something like that in our lives haven’t we?

August 13, 1987
Dear Will,
I don’t think I can take it anymore. I wish there was a way I could see you again. I’m afraid of dying but I want to be with you so bad, wrapped in your arms again. It angers me that I can’t be with you. It angers me that others don’t have to feel our tragedy. Take care Will I hope wherever you are that you find happiness without me.

August, 16 1987
Dear Will,
I’m sorry for taking so long to write this letter, but I had to take care of some stuff. I know you’ll forgive me. I’m crying as I write this though. I got so angry that I, I, killed someone. I did it for you Will! For us! I had to. I couldn’t bear letting them have what we don’t – life. I needed to do this Will. You’ll forgive me though, won’t you?

August 17, 1987
Dear Will,
I thank you for forgiving me. While I was waiting for your reply I went out of the house to the town. No one even knows the couple I killed is missing. And thank you for visiting me last night. I know it was just a dream but I know it was you trying to speak to me… and the love we made was just like it was when you were alive. But anyways that’s beside the point. I found who I will kill next. Their happiness is an issue for us.

August 18, 1987
Dear Will,
Tonight I will redeem our life, at least in the short term. I know you will enjoy it. It gives you a thrill when I take a life doesn’t it? Otherwise you wouldn’t reward me with such passionate love after I do it. That is the reward I seek after each kill; your love and your bodily presence.

August 19, 1987
Dear Will,
I’m so sorry. I can’t handle the guilt of taking a life even if the reward is you. I will take my life tonight so you can’t make me kill anymore. I just need you to know I’m sorry.

August 20, 1987
Dear Will,
I’m sorry I tried to take my life; I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m nearly drowning in my tears Will! I’m sorry! I’ll kill for you again. Just please don’t hurt me.

August 21, 1987
Dear Will,
I could not clean the evidence thoroughly. For there was someone knocking on the door. I’m confident we will not be caught though. The love you gave me last night was amazing. I’ll kill again for you tomorrow morning

August 22, 1987
Dear Will,
Please visit me again. I killed for you again. Please give me the love I require to be happy. I’ll continue writing this after I see who is knocking on the door.

*The previous letters were found at Mariam Brennans’ house on August 22, the following is a police report describing what happened.*

On August 22 the police were questioning everyone who came into contact with the victims preceding their death. After a collection of data and stories we went to visit Mariam Brennan’s house to ask her about the people she might have seen with both victims. One of the officers knocked on the door and she opened up revealing a ghastly pale face. She ran back inside grabbing a kitchen knife and swinging it furiously. We went in and carefully detained her, and called for backup. She was detained as one of the officers opened a door revealing a room with the preserved dead body of a William Thatcher who was reported missing two years ago. The letters in the evidence file depict what appears to be an imaginary life she had with the body. After an extensive background check we learn Mariam had been institutionalized as a teenager for necrophilia and strange delusions which she was supposedly cured of. In the drawers we find the preserved and stuffed genitalia of multiple missing men over the past few years. 

By: Kylan Walker 

Saturday, May 18, 2013

The Bust

Awake I lay
I hear the guns go off
The situation so fray
As the bullets begin to spray

Awake I lay
Lost in the sound of sirens
Only at the beginning of the day
Stuck in my home I must stay

Awake I lay
Chaos outside my home
The gunshots bray
A lone bullet gone astray

Awake I lay
A sound like a whip
For my safety I pray
But with my life; I pay

By: Kylan Walker

Sunday, April 28, 2013

From Under My Bed

Strangers under my bed
I was told they were all in my head
Darkness comes
Out of the silence –hums
Coming from the visitors under my bed

I rest in a place of thought
Somewhere between my dreams
Somewhere I am alone
But yet feel so at home

I arise from my partial slumber
My thoughts a bit humbler
I then hear a sound
And I look around

It was my clock
That infernal tick-tock
But something deeper
Like a deadly reaper

An utter silence I hear
A sound that brings me fear
That near-silent hum
Of the strangers under my bed
I knew they were not real
But it’s like they knew what I feel
Their hums crawling into my skin
Like they could reach through the cloth of my bed -- that was so thin

…Just waiting for the moment
To finish their torment
To end my life in an instant
The only thing protecting me was the tick of my clock that was so distant

I hide under my covers
Wrapped up over me so fast
You’d think it was two lovers
And still the hum of my visitors amassed

I looked into the shadows
Dark eyes aglow
The form of a face I see
That oddly looked like me

(And at that moment) I realized that the monsters under the bed
That I thought were in my head
Were really me instead
A part of me I thought was dead

By: Kylan Walker
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