Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Subject: Arthur Penkins - Part Two

Arthur woke up from his tormenting memories. Twenty years since that horrible episode. Since his father mutilated and killed his mother. At least that's what the cops said. That's what he had been telling himself since then.
He got up and went to take a shower. He had a good life. Writer, successful, an amazing apartment on a skyscraper in New York, a different girl each night, loads of money...Dream life.
But nightmares inside. Arthur, due to trauma, didn't remember what happened, except the darkness. His house, had the lights on every hour, with spare generators, and a closet full of lamps. He learned to sleep under bright lights. No, he would never fall asleep in the dark. But as a consequence, he would see the same darkness forever. No light could put it out.
He entered the shower and put it in massage mode. Sandra, the girl from last night, or at least he thought her name was Sandra, had left already. He had been seeing her for a while. But their relation was practically over, they only saw each other at night, and their relation was...mostly physical. He didn't care, he didn't loved her, and she didn't love him. They mutually despised each other, yet staid together like two sheep who were separated from the flock. He, with his paranoia, and her....well, he didn't know her reasons, but he really didn't care. Perhaps he would be considered a bastard, but he also didn't care. The famous writer with his Light House, or at least what the paper called it. " The one point on earth were there it's never night" said the Times Magazine, and they were right. But Arthur didn't care.
Half an hour later, Arthur was walking to his brand new black BMW. All shinning, and waxed. with brown leather, soft, silky, simply delicious. That car was the perfect way to ensure the manliness of any man. That car transpired masculinity. Arthur sat on his terrific car and started his terrific motor. He looked at the mirror just to stare back at his green eyes. Boy, ain't I lucky? He asked himself that question several times a...What was that?
While admiring himself, he saw something on the back through the review mirror, outside the car. "It's nothing, calm down". But he couldn't avoid grabbing his arm, were several years ago his father, supposedly, broke his arm and partially ripped a muscle.
"I'd better check"
He got out, slowly, and rounded the car. Behind the car, right under the license plate, was a dark burnt like spot, as if someone had lit a fire there. Maybe some teen vandals. "Stupid kids, unnecessary, expensive and useless bags of meat! If they ever lay a finger in his BMW...". Arthur finally drove off to the magazine, were he wrote a certain chronic called "Urban Pathfinder" for fun.
No traffic. How could this day get any better?
He arrived, parked in his reserved spot, grabbed his suitcase and with his chin pointing the sky and a smile at the corner of his mouth. The big building was essentially white and glass.
When Arthur went to reach the door, his heart stopped a beat.
A "do not cross" yellow strip was blocking the entrance...

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Subject: Arthur Penkins - Part One

He got up from bed. Someone was at his door. "Mom?" No answer. Scratching. "Is that you Mom?". A deep and fainted voice answered. "Arthur" It was weak, but it was obviously his mother. "You scared me Mommy."
"Arthur..."
"What are you doing?"
"Arthur don't..." and the scratching started again.
He slowly opened the door. At first he only saw darkness, but as he lowered his sight he saw his mother on the floor. At least the upper half. The once soft brown floor was now in a deep shade of red. His mother's legs were ripped off from her, and no were to be seen. A huge wave of panic flowed from his stomach and was reaching his mouth.
"Don't....Scream...." mumbled his dying mother.
Down the hall, at the end of a blood trail was something. A living thing. Breathing. Chewing. Slurping. He didn't make a sound. Suddenly this nauseating smell of blood, sweat, and perhaps urine came to his nose, and he couldn't avoid throwing up. As soon as he recomposed himself he noted something different. The silence. The thing wasn't at the end of the hall anymore. Glued to the wall he tried not to breath. Were was it? Scanning the hallway he found it, and his heart missed a beat. It was at the left corner of the ceiling. A dark mass, quiet, static. Looking with tiny red dots at him. They stared each other for minutes. He couldn't keep it anymore. He screamed and it jumped. He felt an excruciating pain on his arm and the lights were turned on. His father was staring at the madness in the hall, still holding the interrupter. His arm was bleeding, and the thing wasn't there anymore. His father in shock, screamed. Twenty years later, a twenty-seven year old Arthur woke up from this nightmare....