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.”
“Thanks.”
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 
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