Mascot "Kumi" © 2005 Chastain & Fan Works Inc. All Rights Reserved. Mascot "Kumi" © 2005 Chastain & Fan Works Inc. All Rights Reserved.
 
Memorial - In Loving Memory of Chester Gregorich, 1981-2005
Home | Directory | Help & Tools | Just In! | [Search]
[Log In | Join]
Original Fiction >> Science Fiction

The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

 

[View Printer Friendly Version]

Hell on Earth
By Gai

 


It was an ordinary day that year. Perhaps it wasn't the most beautiful day, but still, not a terribly unpleasant one. It was just an ordinary little neighborhood in the suburbs as well, filled with ordinary residents. The weather was normal, and the only one seen outside was a child or two playing harmless games.

And a not so ordinary looking man dressed in a dark overcoat. He carried a rather large suitcase, which only added to the overall ominous sight of his appearance. Perhaps if one was more suspicious, they'd take the time to look at him more closely. One glance would tell he wasn't quite right. His hair was an unkempt mess, which suggested he saw little importance in grooming himself. He also walked in a rather odd fashion, seeming to be in a hurry, despite feeling the need to walk to his destination, whatever it may be. And his eyes were a bigger clue as to his unusual nature than anything about him. They showed in them a look of unbridled paranoia, only accentuated by their need to constantly dart in all directions at once. As for the said case, which he seemed to carry so determinedly...or perhaps 'clung to' would be a better description. He held onto the suitcase with an iron grip, as if it was the most valued treasure in his life. Or the only thing that could protect it.

And so it was that this very unusual man on a very normal day in a very normal part of town walked onward, unnoticed by the children who frolicked amongst themselves, onto whatever important task it seemed he had to carry out. That is until an errant ball thrown by a nearby adolescent happened to cross his path. It was a small, light ball, of no threat to one but perhaps a mere bug, though the stranger seemed to think otherwise, as one could tell by the way he jumped at the near collision he had with it. So wound up, he seemed, that a simple child's plaything would appear to be threatening to him. After realizing that the ball which came upon him was of no danger, a friendly and yet somehow unsettling smile crept across his face. Bending over, while still holding fast to his suitcase, the man picked up the ball, throwing it back playfully at the appreciative child, who was too content with receiving his beloved toy to notice the oddity of the fellow who returned it.

Thus the man continued on his way, before eventually coming to where it was that he had been heading. A simple house, of an ordinary nature. It was a small, cozy looking home, with a cheerful yellow color, giving it a warm and welcoming atmosphere to all who might step inside. That is, all except it's current visitor.

Just an ordinary house, in an ordinary neighborhood, on an ordinary day. All might seem quite ordinary in itself, if not for the man who stood before it, a stranger who most certainly was not ordinary. The man stared fearfully at this warm looking house, before determinedly heading inside. It must be noted that while the stranger invited himself in, he was by no means invited by the owner.

"Who the hell are you?" shouted the host who sat comfortably in his chair before being rudely interrupted by this odd fellow who barged into his home. The man whose privacy had been invaded wasn't particularly intimidating, being a portly sort, and at five feet tall, by no means a massive fellow. He was dressed quite professionally, especially for a man in his leisurely hours, with a respectable suit and tie.

Without a moment's delay, the stranger opened the case he had so tightly held, revealing a sight that immediately silenced the man whose house had been invaded.

Pistols, revolvers, submachine guns, grenades...it seemed the stranger who stood there was ready to wage war against a nation. Yet no army, not even a platoon, was what lay before him, just a harmless looking man dressed in a nicely pressed suit.

"What is this?" he fearfully cried, cowering behind the chair he had until recently been resting in.

"Don't play games with me, I know you're one of them!" the stranger finally said, or rather shrieked, as he raised a firearm in the poor fellow's direction. "You're all just waiting to take over, thinking you've fooled the others! They may have fallen for your disguise, but I know better!" During this whole proclamation, his aim never faltered from his target, focused on the space just between the man's eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about, you're insane!" the terrified man shouted, trying desperately to calm his visitor down.

"Oh, I know that you know that I know what you are, so there's no point in trying to trick me with your freaky mind games!" the stranger managed to sputter out, though not without confusing even himself in the process.

"Get out!" the other shouted in what was meant to be a firm manner, which failed as a result of the quaver in his voice. "Or I'll call the-"

However, before another word was uttered, a bullet was fired directly into the man's skull, causing him to fall to the floor, dropping his body behind the chair to which he had previously clung. The stranger simply stared in disbelief, slowly approaching with his gun still defensively raised. Blood ran from behind the chair, and yet the gun toting man remained on guard. Checking to see the remains of the unfortunate man, he peered over the chair.

Only to find a deformed claw clutched tightly around his throat. Thrashing violently, he tried desperately to pull himself up, staring in fear down at the terrifying, nightmarish creature that lay beneath him. The beast was more mouth than anything else, a frightening maw that threatened to consume the man as it pulled him in closer. Large, razor sharp teeth, each longer than a railroad spike, lined that huge mouth, and large, piercing eyes that looked as if they could have belonged to the devil himself locked upon it's intended prey.

Out of desperation, the man fired blindly at the monster, causing it to let out a shriek as a bullet punctured one of it's eyes, causing the vice-like grip it held on him to loosen. The man shot up and over the chair back onto the floor, staring up at the creature that pulled it's massive form over the piece of furniture. He fired another series of shots, only succeeding in angering the beast, which continued dragging itself further to it's target. Out of ammo, the man threw aside the gun, scrambling over to the small arsenal he had brought. Grabbing two submachine guns, he fired an endless barrage at the horrific thing, but in it's rage it simply shook off the assault, and grabbed the man by the ankle, knocking him down and pulling the surely doomed stranger to it's endless row of teeth. Searching desperately for a weapon as the beast reeled him in, the man's hand happened to graze across a grenade, and without hesitance he quickly pulled out the pin and tossed it into the monster's mouth. The creature began making a horrible choking noise of some sort, perhaps trying to vomit up the device that had gotten lodged in it's throat, shortly before promptly exploding into a splattered mess of various organs.

Covered in blood, intestines, and...other miscelleneous things, the man merely lay where he rested on the floor, staring in a state of shock at the creature's remains as it seemed to almost immediately begin decomposing.

"I...I can't believe it..." he simply said, "...he really was one of them!"

End of Chapter 1

 

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

[Return to Top]

TOS  |  Privacy Policy  |  Questions/Comments?  |  Found a bug?  |  Report violations of the TOS
Powered by E-FanWorks v3.9.9b © Null Referrence Software 2003-2006