The Opium Kicks In (and others merged)

The horde of swarthy rodents swarmed the town.
Families sat on the roofs of their houses as they watched the clamourous small horrors gallop across their yards. And gallop it was, becuase you could heard the audible, vehement sound of small rat feet pounding across the grass. These families watched as they're neighbors fought rats on the rooftops, trying to keep them from climbing up the walls.
The rats swam across more of their species in undulant motions. Looking down into the pestilent plague of blackness, Stewart Feckman noticed these creatures had only a semblance of actual rats. These monstrosities where rudimentary of sorts, for they looked like half developed ginea pigs, but they lacked the gentleness. The black pool of raw skin and dark was interrupted by the glowing incandescent eyes of yellow fierocity which bleed in and out of the shadows.
Upon hearing a noise, Stewart turned around to spot one of the creatures furtively creeping towards him. This creature seemed to be the king of the rats, for It was a great deal larger than the others. As a matter of fact,
it was the size of a labrador retriever.
The rat poised itself upon it's hind legs and stood aggressively.
........................................................................................................

The blasphemous creature dived into Stewart, with it's eyes fixed on his throat. Stewart pressed his thumbs in between the jawbones of it's lower mouth, and stood back up while keeping a good grip of the monster. Using the jawbone as handles, Stewart pressed the creature onto it's back, while he sat atop of it's rib cage. With it's back flat against the ground, our beloved hero repeatedly beat the creature's head against the gritted roof shingles. He continued slamming the soft furry head into the roof until after a few endless moments, he found himself flooded in a rythm of padded skulls beating against leather drumskins. Stewart, in his horrific frenzy, was enveloped in drumbeats and brutal music of such a cacophony that he hardly knew what he was hearing.
The eyes of the creature grew faint, and warm, living blood flowed in a tiny river down the slope of the roof. It took him a few seconds to return to the horror of that night, and when he did, he saw the creature lying as if in a twisted nightmare of unspeakable images. Taking a deep breath, he looked down at his hands which were covered in the creatures saliva and short hair that was pulled loose in the fight.
Stewart heard the drums very faintly in the distance, coming closer and closer, as if the drummers were on a train, aimed straight towards his head. It became so loud that he could swear the drums were right above his head, and it got worse. For after a few minutes of being swept away in the submersive chaos, the drums entered inside his head, no longer playing on the outside. His eyes grew maddenly yellow while his vision became darker and darker.
This is the time that Stweart experienced death f the most awful kind, for he had lost his life to the maddeness, but he continued a new life, as a small black creature, resembling a rat with missing patches of fur and amber glowing eyes.
Stewart, or rather what Stewart had become, looked across the street at the neighbors still in fear, beating rats off their roof. He slid off the roof and into the teeming river of creatures all in motion. He needed nourishment, and perhaps the neighbors would fullfill his hunger.



Criticism Please, Constructive Criticism.
I wrote this with Lovecraft's vocabulary in mind.

 

That ghastly creature, looking into my humble domain with It's vaporous face pressed hard against the smooth glass of the window.

It's delicate eyes searching for the tenants, including I, who have stumbled into the shadows to hide from the malignant gaze of the fiendish ghoul.
The foul eidolon, with It's frigid glance, at one moment was in the darkness of the night, but after an eternal moment, was in the safety of my own victorian-styled house.
The demon, I'm sure, knew fully where I was hidden, underneath my beloved desk of creative inspiration than only an artist could love. The monstrosity ignored my position in the room heavily, and seemed rather involved in what seemed to be a swaying dance.
As it was acting out this shamanic dance, I noticed as the seconds went by that the intensity of the motions increased rapidly. I was caught by shock when the ethereal being with it's cat-like eys made a transformation from dance to seizure.
I swear, to the most inward corners of my heart, that this friend of the devil had begun to convulse uncontrollably. It's arms were raised towards either the heavens or my ceiling fan. Its deathly spasms brought all the horror that I ever had out into the open, and I could feel the creature actually absorbing my fears away from me, Until I was in a state of unfearing bliss.
My hands grew cold and happy, I felt completely fullfilled, But I knew it was for my best to stay hidden away from the beast. His dance slowed to a halt, and seeming to be without any other motives, the demon left, through the same place it came, the window in my writer's den.
I watched peacefully as this angel of the undead floated away into the darkness of the cool summer night.
"Annie, Call 911! Hurry!" my wife said as she shook me viciously by the shoulders.
"Mommy, What happened to Papa?" My dearest daughter asked innocently.
I stood behind my loving wife, looking into my former shell, and I placed my hand on her shoulder, tears of demons running down my face.
"ANNIE! BRING ME THE PHONE!" Her livid red face screamed in my direction, bursting with tears meant for loved ones.

Constructive Criticism Pleaseoso.

 

The perfect sunset exhaled itself across the sleepy sea. Lawrence gazed in a quiet contentment, floating in those lazy comforts of daydreams that flourish somewhere in between the beginning of chilled nights and the ending of sunny days.

Inspired by this scene that whispered a word of satisfaction into his wrinkled ear, he slowly lifted his notebook off of the bench that he was seated in. He opened the book to a dull, empty page and searched his mind for words to create his poem. He began twisting the end of his four inch long grey beard with his forefinger and thumb, with a pencil held in between his fingers. A newborn turtle poked out of the sand and laid just outside the hole for a moment of rest. Lawrence couldn't help himself from smiling, his cheery face blushing red. He placed the pen and notebook back on the bench and leaned into
the seat, feeling the chill of dark orange sky slide across his bald head.

He watched as the frail sea turtle took off on it's historic journey into the great unknown of the sea. For the first time in it's life, the turtle met the ocean, and Howard watched as the merciful waves gently swept the ambitious creature away as if it were the animal's mother.

"Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature. It will never fail you."
Frank Lloyd Wright

 

Matthew managed to keep up with his friends as they sped across the deserted city park. The wheels of his wheelchair gave off a soft clicking noise as he sailed across the brick patterned ground.

"Man, why don't they put a basketball court closer to our side of the city," Ronald complained,"All this walking is making me tired."

"Maybe if you stopped eating all those hot pockets," Chad commented as he patted Ronald's stomach jokingly.

"Man, It's not my fault that I have fat genetics." Ronald said as he looked down at his belly.

"Yeah, If genetics are in anyway related to eating 3 hot pockets in one sitting." Chad laughed.

Ronald frowned and crossed his arms defensively. He felt guilty for letting himself get so big.

"Matt, How come your so quiet?" Chad asked, peering over his shoulder to see Matt quietly following.

"I'm just thinking of all the fun things I can't do anymore." Matt replied as he kept his gaze on the ground, watching the bricks as he passed by them.

"Ahh, You mean because of the wheelchair?" Chad said, "It's not good to think like that."

Chad stopped walking and let the other two pass him, he grabbed the handles of Matthew's chair and took off running in circles.

"And I take it this isn't exactly fun either, right?" Chad exclaimed as he pushed down on the handles, tilting Matt onto his back.

"How come we are going to the basketball court without a basketball?" Ronald asked, watching as Chad finished his wheelchair escapade with a final spin.

"We're not really going to the basketball court. I just didn't want all your parents freaking out by telling them where I am taking you. I want to show you guys this cool cave I found in the woods," Chad said,"Although it will take a long time to get there, I'm sure that we'll be home before dark."

"But I told my mom we were only going to the basketball court, What if she finds out?" Ronald cried, clearly upset.

"Chill out," Matt said,"I'll be fun to go exploring for once."

"Come on, you know it's dangerous! That's where all those 12th graders go to smoke drugs," Ronald shouted, "I don't want to get beat up!"

"Don't be such a baby!" Chad replied.

It was a quiet stroll towards the woodland path that laid hidden in high grass behind the basketball court. The three boys were silent with fear and anticipation. Ronald was huffing and puffing from what could be the longest walk he has been on in a month.

Upon reaching the beginning of the path, they all looked up at each other.

"Don't worry Matt, I've been through here before and the path is definately wide enough for you," Chad assured,"I think Ronald will fit too."

"Ok, Let's go!" Matt declared as he tried to stop laughing.

Ronald, too breathless to talk, followed behind Matt as Chad led them both into the unknown.

 

The daylight faded to a deep orange as the sun sank behind the massive evergreens. During the entire march through the woods, Chad had to push Matthew's wheelchair from behind to help lift him over the ancient tree roots that laid acrossed path. Ronald made sure to remind them that they had been walking for over an hour, and he keep glancing at his watch every hundred steps.

"I promise you guys we'll be there in just a few more minutes," Chad assured as he wiped the sweat off his forehead,"See those birch trees up there?"

"I need to sit down." Ronald moaned, putting every ounce his weight on a walking stick he discovered.

"I hope your right Chad, My arms feel like rubber." Matthew complained.

The path ended awkwardly, shifting from wild grass and dark soil to dry red clay. A tall mound of red dirt stood a few paces away from Ronald, who was already looking for a stump to sit on.

"The entrance is on this side, come on!" chad exclaimed, already running to the other side of the mound.

Ronald and Matthew, on the verge of collapsing, followed with their heads bobbing tiresomely.
They stood at the entrance, peering into the small mouth of the spacious shelter. Chad stepped into the cavern first, with Ronald and Matthew pacing cautiously behind.

"Check this out," Chad said as he pulled a lighter from his pocket and began setting fire to an object that sat atop a waist-high shelf of clay, "This cave is filled with candles."

"Let me light one!" Begged Matthew.

"You guys shouldn't be playing with candles.." Ronald warned as he watched Chad toss the lighter to Matthew.

"Have a seat Ron." Chad said as he pulled two dusty couch cushions out from the other side of the earthy den and dropped them down near Matthew, who was having the time of his life lighting all the candles on the shelf that surrounded the entire cave.

The stale air was old and intrusive, causing Ronald, to wrinkle his nose. Matthew finished lighting the encircling wall of candles.
Ronald sat down on one of the cushions and tried to relax as he wiped his hands on his pants.

"Well, I hope you guys are comfortable," Chad said, pointing towards the three foot diameter circular entrance,"It's starting to rain."

 

The stars were hidden away behind a thick blanket of storm clouds. The heavy raindrops plopped loudly into the mud outside of the cave. The moon was absent from the sky, leaving the forest shrouded in darkness.


"The wind keeps blowing in," Ronald complained,"Can't we put something up to cover the entrance?"

"Good idea!" Chad said as he stood up and walked quickly out into the eerie blackness of the woods.

Matthew looked over at the entrance, and then over to Ronald, who looked as if he was going to cry.

"Matt," Ronald whimpered," I want to go home."

"Don't worry, nothing bad will happen," Matthew assured,"Just pretend we're camping."

Chad showed up in the doorway carrying a dirty blue piece of tarp and dripping wet.

"Sorry for leaving," Chad apologized as he pointed outside of the cave,"I had to go get this tarp from woods, there is a pile of trash over that way."

By digging two small holes above the entrance, and using 2 broken candle sticks, Chad melted two holes into the tarp and used the candle sticks as stakes to keep the tarp
held over the entrance.

"That's better," Ronald said,"Now we won't freeze."

Chad sat back down on his dusty cushion and looked at Matthew.

"Matt, how exactly did you end up in a wheel chair?" Chad asked out of the blue.

Matthew looked at the other two, they knew this was a sensitive question. He hesitated for a few seconds, listening to the rain outside.

"Well, you guys are my friends, and It would probably help to get it off my chest," he paused.

 

"I remember it was New Year's Eve, and I was at my friend's house, His name was Sam. Sam's parents invited my mom over to celebrate the new year, so she brought me along. Sam had a few new videogames, so we played them in the dark until our thumbs were sore.

"I win!" Sam shouted, his eyes sparkled in a reflection of the glowing tv screen.

"No you didn't, you cheated!" Matthew accused playfully,"Let's try again, but don't use the same moves all the time."

"Just don't cry when I beat you for the fourth time in a row." Sam replied, as he watched the next match load onto the screen.

Looking up, we both watched as my mom stumbled into the doorway and turned the lights on. She must have gone a bit overboard on the drinking becuase she was holding onto the doorframe for support.

"Hurry up," she slurred,"It's time to go home."

After telling Sam that I would see him next week, I went out to the front door to put my sneakers on. My mom stumble along behind me, bumping into the kitchen chairs. With worried faces, Sam's parents asked my mom to come into the living room with them. Sam's father put his hand on my mom's shoulder and asked her if she could make it home. After exchanging a few words, she brushed his hand away from her.

"I can get home just fine!"

After swinging open the front door, she grabbed me by the wrist.

"Let's go." she commanded, her face was so red that when I squinted my eyes she looked like an angry lobster.

We ran to car, trying to escape the massive rain storm. I nearly drowned trying to get to the car. She didn't have any problems pulling out of the driveway, or driving on the road. It was a very quiet drive, she just kept her stare on the road up ahead. I don't know how she could see where the road was, becuase the windshield wipers weren't even on . Her eyes were wet, It could have been either tears or rain.

She kept struggling to keep herself from nodding off to sleep. It didn't take long for her to hit that perfect nod, with her chin against her chest and her eyes closed with no signs of opening up. I tried shaking her shirt sleeve to wake her up, She wouldn't snap out of it. I heard a deafening honk, and looked up to blinded by lights as bright as the sun.

My mom survived with only a few scratches and cuts, but the young couple in the other car weren't as lucky. I saw the guy belted into the driver's seat painted with his own blood, the first death I've ever witnessed. His girlfriend didn't wear her seatbelt, she was 10 feet behind our car, ground into the black tar and lying in a pool of water.

I was terrified knowing that I was the first person to witness this tragedy. My lower back ached with pain, it felt as if my spine had been kicked in.

I saw sleepy blue and red lights approaching, slowly sending me off into dreamland. I slipped off into that empty comfort that you feel when you've stayed up all night.


"Where does it hurt?"

"Don't move your head, Ok?"

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Call dispatch to get another ambulance for the woman."

"He's comatose."

I woke up in a hospital bed only to see my mother holding my hand with tears rolling down her eyes. An important looking doctor walked in and spoke to me with a vocabulary that seemed so alien to me, I couldn't quite catch what he was saying.

"Unfortunately, physical therapy isn't an option. The damage is permanent." he said, glaring at my mother with cold eyes.

That was the only part that I understood.

-Constructive Criticism please?-