Andrew searched the corpse's former possesions (at least the ones that were clean enough and not covered in vile blood or flesh leftovers), to find some ammunition for his trusty gun, a piece of bulletproof armor which he could use, and a very old and seemingly-broken tape recorder, like the one reporters use to interview someone.
He presses the rewind button to check if it works, and when, to his pleasure, he found it was alright, he let it like that for a bit, then pressed play.
*sounds, probably bad quality of the tape or data that has been corroded*
"Day 6. i have no idea what these things are. I've seen quite a lot of them. Everyone is locked inside their homes, the television says that it might be a virus that leads to loss of conciense and vast amounts of rage, that is also very contaminating. Being part of the army, i was enlisted to do some patroling with one of my friends from the squad, Nigel. We didn't find any of those "infected people", but i couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched...."
*end of recording*
"Day 8. Those things.. Whatever they are, they are not human.. not anymore.. we were chased, and we ran to some abandoned house. Their numbers are overwhelming! My AK ammo is nearly over, and there's no way i'm using that pistol unless there's a grand emergency. Even now, i can hear those things moaning.. it appears that they are hungry, and as paranoid as it sounds, i believe that they crave for human flesh.. God help us should we fall to the hands of one of them.."
*slight clicking noises, sound of gunfire, running, and a distand moan, composed of what sounds like several people. silence.*
"Oh my god they got Nigel.. They planted a bite on his arm, I barely saved him, I used the clip's last bullet to shoot that thing in the head to let Nigel go... It seems that those monsters can only be killed by a headshot, I've filled several of them with holes, and they didn't even slow down... Oh my god, what are we going to do.. the food supplies are looking pretty grim, and so is our ammunition, and Nigel is sitting in a corner of this ruined room and babbling something incoherent.."
*silence, next recording*
"Day 13. They moan. They eat, they moan, and they search for more prey.. They never stop. Never. The tv's off, it doesn't transmit anything. They must have eaten everyone in the channel's stations.. Those.. Soulless monsters... "
*concieled wimpering, then in the distance:*
"Hey man, got any more smokes? Nigel? Nigel are you listening to me? Oh.. no no. No! Nigel! No! Not you too, man! Oh my god no!"
*distant moaning*
" Stay back Nigel.. Stay back man, I don't wanna do this.. Nigel!"
*gunfire, some shouting, moaning stops, sound of something heavy falling down*
" Oh my god.. Nigel.. No... Those bastards..."
*sound corroded, tape approaches its end, and the most recent recording*
"*......*Never catch me alive! *..........*"
*gunfire, screaming.*
"*....* Go back to the hell that spawned you!"
*more gunfire*
*screaming, less gunfire, moan getting louder and closer until sounds of ripping and tearing of what sounds like skin is heard. More screaming, without big duration. More liquid-like sounds, more ripping sounds of some material.*
*end of recording*
With a shiver, and a tear running down Andrew's cheek, he placed the tape recorder in his backpack, making a mental note to keep a vocal diary himself. These will indeed be mankind's last days.
Τρίτη 22 Ιουλίου 2008
Blood And Thunder
"Johnathan, get me a vial of No. 53. Quick now, my boy."
The lab was well lit, all the little tubes and vials with liquids of different colors like a sick and twisted rainbow occupying most of the space above the many desks this lab contained.
A little man, quick by nature and precise by years of experience under the commands of his master, Dr. Bradshaw, remembered where the vial that was requested was -the process took no more than a second-, and went to fetch.
"Soon, my dear Johnathan.. Soon all of this will pay off.. We will be eternal, my boy. Eternal!"
Johnathan considered this. No master, we both know you want it for yourself because you are the impersonation of greed. We both know that you will keep this to your dear self, or sell it for billions and billions of dollars, so that you can actually live rich and famous.
"Do you understand? I will beat man's first and worst fear, death! Imagine a world with no death!"
And no insurances, Johnathan thought. Less money for the rest of the world, more for you. Also, the earth would really be over-populated. As if we don't have enough people rotting underground..
Johnathan didn't actually hate his master that much. He had come to help Dr. Raymond D. Bradshaw because he really wanted to put his knowledge to the test with this.. The man claimed he could achieve eternal life -he had done so for more than the 6 years that Johnathan helped him-, and that was no small thing to do. At first, John did what he did out of interest.. Curiosity.. Out of fear that the man could possibly do what he dreamed of.. And now..
"Our names will become legend among the people!"
John could already imagine a big, leatherbound book with the title 'Johnathan Shilling & Raymond D. Bradshaw: The ones that damned us by saving us'. He wasn't sure he liked it.. Still, he had to wait and see..
"4 vials of No. 13, 2 of No. 65, and one No.27. Quick."
Dr. Bradshaw was a simple man. He knew what he wanted, and soon, he learned how to get it. Nothing could get in his way. He would not allow such a thing. His plans were above the judgment of any other human. Only he and his faithful errand-boy were to be trusted with his projects. His obsession with life eternal was born when his parents died in a car accident, while he was at the young age of 14. He then decided that he could help science get omnipotent, beating death and the sorrow it brought to everyone. He became a famous doctor, until he confessed his ultimate project to the scientific community. He was instantly pushed over, shunned by everyone and called a "highly promising individual, yet severely mistaken".
But now he had done it. He had actually found the way to triumph over the Grim Reaper, Death, Uriel, the Otherside, and any other names the people have given to death over the ages..
It wasn't easy to pick up the ingredients. Not at all. when he tried to buy some of (Vial No. 56) at first, the pharmacist looked at him and asked him in a serious tone "Sir, what are you planning to do with this?". Of course he had replied he would use it in some experiments. Which was mostly true, after all. The pharmacist persisted "You do know that such a thing can cause..."
"Yes, yes, I've heard all about it, now if you would please give me what I kindly asked you." He had grinned while he said it.
And that was one of the better cases, some of the vials he had to fill in the houses of charlatans, mediums, spirit talkers, tomb-freaks, and other peculiar individuals he wouldn't want to associate with again, if he had the choice.
And the colors.. There was something of the colors in the little vials. They seemed to suck the light in them and a bit around them. Other substances just reflected the kind of light that signified their color and you could clearly see a hue of red, green, blue, etc etc.. These things.. they seemed to do the exact opposite of 'glow' or give off a color hue.. The particular one he was holding was a red so deep it reminded him of a painting he once saw at another scientists house. It's theme was Death, and it showed the end of a battle, and what remained of every body out there on that huge field.. That made the hair on the back of his head raise a bit, but he decided to ignore it.
"Are you listening to me, boy? Get me what I asked."
Johnathan was of course on the move, although the Dr. could not see that because he was too absorbed into his work and paraphernalia. He handed the vials to him.
Again, Dr. Bradshaw had that eerie feeling, and he mixed a little of this with that, then infused it with something else, while something was also burning above a bunsen burner, and a machine beside him was stirring a couple of other test tubes letting out a faint whizzing sound.
Sweat was forming on his wrinkled brow. Only a couple of minutes left before his dreams came true. He just had to do this and that, and all these years would finally pay off... And, really, what are a few years, compared to a whole infinity?
"Observe, my boy.. This is indeed a great, big leap for mankind, no matter what that little moon-man said back then. What you see, may well be..."
He raised the vial on his right hand.
"Evolution."
He let a single red drop fall in the larger test tube in his other hand.
The lab was well lit, all the little tubes and vials with liquids of different colors like a sick and twisted rainbow occupying most of the space above the many desks this lab contained.
A little man, quick by nature and precise by years of experience under the commands of his master, Dr. Bradshaw, remembered where the vial that was requested was -the process took no more than a second-, and went to fetch.
"Soon, my dear Johnathan.. Soon all of this will pay off.. We will be eternal, my boy. Eternal!"
Johnathan considered this. No master, we both know you want it for yourself because you are the impersonation of greed. We both know that you will keep this to your dear self, or sell it for billions and billions of dollars, so that you can actually live rich and famous.
"Do you understand? I will beat man's first and worst fear, death! Imagine a world with no death!"
And no insurances, Johnathan thought. Less money for the rest of the world, more for you. Also, the earth would really be over-populated. As if we don't have enough people rotting underground..
Johnathan didn't actually hate his master that much. He had come to help Dr. Raymond D. Bradshaw because he really wanted to put his knowledge to the test with this.. The man claimed he could achieve eternal life -he had done so for more than the 6 years that Johnathan helped him-, and that was no small thing to do. At first, John did what he did out of interest.. Curiosity.. Out of fear that the man could possibly do what he dreamed of.. And now..
"Our names will become legend among the people!"
John could already imagine a big, leatherbound book with the title 'Johnathan Shilling & Raymond D. Bradshaw: The ones that damned us by saving us'. He wasn't sure he liked it.. Still, he had to wait and see..
"4 vials of No. 13, 2 of No. 65, and one No.27. Quick."
Dr. Bradshaw was a simple man. He knew what he wanted, and soon, he learned how to get it. Nothing could get in his way. He would not allow such a thing. His plans were above the judgment of any other human. Only he and his faithful errand-boy were to be trusted with his projects. His obsession with life eternal was born when his parents died in a car accident, while he was at the young age of 14. He then decided that he could help science get omnipotent, beating death and the sorrow it brought to everyone. He became a famous doctor, until he confessed his ultimate project to the scientific community. He was instantly pushed over, shunned by everyone and called a "highly promising individual, yet severely mistaken".
But now he had done it. He had actually found the way to triumph over the Grim Reaper, Death, Uriel, the Otherside, and any other names the people have given to death over the ages..
It wasn't easy to pick up the ingredients. Not at all. when he tried to buy some of (Vial No. 56) at first, the pharmacist looked at him and asked him in a serious tone "Sir, what are you planning to do with this?". Of course he had replied he would use it in some experiments. Which was mostly true, after all. The pharmacist persisted "You do know that such a thing can cause..."
"Yes, yes, I've heard all about it, now if you would please give me what I kindly asked you." He had grinned while he said it.
And that was one of the better cases, some of the vials he had to fill in the houses of charlatans, mediums, spirit talkers, tomb-freaks, and other peculiar individuals he wouldn't want to associate with again, if he had the choice.
And the colors.. There was something of the colors in the little vials. They seemed to suck the light in them and a bit around them. Other substances just reflected the kind of light that signified their color and you could clearly see a hue of red, green, blue, etc etc.. These things.. they seemed to do the exact opposite of 'glow' or give off a color hue.. The particular one he was holding was a red so deep it reminded him of a painting he once saw at another scientists house. It's theme was Death, and it showed the end of a battle, and what remained of every body out there on that huge field.. That made the hair on the back of his head raise a bit, but he decided to ignore it.
"Are you listening to me, boy? Get me what I asked."
Johnathan was of course on the move, although the Dr. could not see that because he was too absorbed into his work and paraphernalia. He handed the vials to him.
Again, Dr. Bradshaw had that eerie feeling, and he mixed a little of this with that, then infused it with something else, while something was also burning above a bunsen burner, and a machine beside him was stirring a couple of other test tubes letting out a faint whizzing sound.
Sweat was forming on his wrinkled brow. Only a couple of minutes left before his dreams came true. He just had to do this and that, and all these years would finally pay off... And, really, what are a few years, compared to a whole infinity?
"Observe, my boy.. This is indeed a great, big leap for mankind, no matter what that little moon-man said back then. What you see, may well be..."
He raised the vial on his right hand.
"Evolution."
He let a single red drop fall in the larger test tube in his other hand.
Παρασκευή 11 Ιουλίου 2008
November Night
"I have... But one... Heart..This heart i bring you..
I have but one heart.. To share with you..."
I blow a puff of smoke from my pipe. That's one of my favorite records playing. A special record. But this is a special night..
My name is Adamantios, and though fate has been too kind to let it show, I'm in my mid thirties... I am... Not your ordinary man in his middle thirties. Indeed, I am not an untamed beast, and I'm not a brainless klutz that goes about in flashy cars, or with stylish models..
Old fashioned, some people call me. Some just call me weird, or demented, or whatever they like. I just smile and blow another puff of smoke..
"You are.. My one.. Love.. My life I live for you..."
I'm sitting in front of the fireplace, in this cold winter night, and my only friends are this pipe, my Cabernet Sauvignon from my own cellar and ol' Frankie's voice. Oh, here comes the napolitano bit, I always liked that part.
I once dedicated this song to her. I wonder if she even remembers it..
"Ca u mare parla e na' carezza, Ma a tia la brezza, fina murir..."
I smile a bitter smile. I know she doesn't. She never understood, how much she meant to me. Can't really blame her, I guess, it's in the nature of human to forget, or so someone said. Might as well blame someone for having two eyes, right?
I drink some more wine, savoring its taste little by little, like my life hangs from it. Then I turn my attention to the space above the mantelpiece, where her portrait is. I painted that one, long ago. I was never good at painting, or copying faces on the canvas and that sort of thing. But after I lost her, her image was stuck so deep in my heart and my mind, that I eventually learned to paint, only to do her own portrait, from memory. And this was it. The only thing I ever did that I was a little proud of.
Another smile forms on my cold lips. And I did you good, didn't I? Dearest? A toast. I raise my glass. To your beauty. And my love for you.
I drink all the wine that's left in the glass all at once. It's snowing outside. Why does it happen so that it always snows on this day? Maybe up there, you still remember, and cry with me.. My tears are measured with drops of wine, and yours with snowfall.. Each gust of wind that takes the snowflakes with it is another one of your dances, so mystifying and dreamlike, like the gliding of an angel in the sky.
I remember you.
Always.
But this day is special, like I said. This is the day you left me. Alas, I know you didn't want to. I guess it was the mysterious touch of fate that took you from me, that dark November night, when you were hit by that train. And to think you were coming to visit me, after such a long time of working abroad. It was our one chance, to see each other again, like we promised.
My smile remains bitter.
What has fate wrought..
Tonight is your night. Our night. Tonight, you dance for me and I drink to bear the pain of watching you but being unable to embrace you once again.
"More wine sir?" A soft, known voice asks behind me.
Samantha, my maid. You would have liked her. She too plays the piano and loves to listen to songs we like. She also keeps your flowers from dying. She' a good woman, but quite stubborn at times. It's alright though, it's all in the set, as my father used to say.
Yes, please, Samantha. She has the bottle and asks me to fill my glass. I guess she thinks she's taking care of me that way. As if i couldn't order her to just give me the bottle whenever i wanted. But it's alright too, it's better that way.
She fills my glass and then patiently takes two steps backwards, standing there, waiting for my next order.
How many times do I have to tell you, Sam, you can always sit somewhere, we have many sofas, lots of couches, and even more chairs. All those years and still you feel as if standing there and tiring yourself is your duty?
"Well, it is, sir."
That again. My name is not sir, never was, and will never be. Adamantios, or Adam, if you prefer. I think 6 years are enough for you to be able to call me by my first name..
"But, sir!-"
I raise an index finger. Ah, ah! What did I just tell you about that?..
"Yes si- Adam.."
I smile again. Stubborn Samantha. Always the same. Your heart is kind and you restrain it.
"Do you want me to change the record or play it again, sir?"
I let a little sore laugh. Sir. Again. No, I tell Sam. I didn't even realise it'd ended. It's alright, I will be returning to my reading soon, anyway. You know I can't read while listening to music.. I don't know which one demands more attention from me.
She smiles.
"Yes, sir. Do you need anything else?"
No, I believe this night is already at its end. I'm getting weary.. You are not free to take the rest of the night of, but also encouraged to. Another smile.
"Goodnight, Adam."
Goodnight, Samanta. And sweet dreams. May fate smile upon you.
"You know I don't believe in fate, Adam."
Neither do I, Sam. Neither do I. Now off you go.
She nods, and leaves.
Goodnight, Samantha. And good night to you, my dear.
I have but one heart.. To share with you..."
I blow a puff of smoke from my pipe. That's one of my favorite records playing. A special record. But this is a special night..
My name is Adamantios, and though fate has been too kind to let it show, I'm in my mid thirties... I am... Not your ordinary man in his middle thirties. Indeed, I am not an untamed beast, and I'm not a brainless klutz that goes about in flashy cars, or with stylish models..
Old fashioned, some people call me. Some just call me weird, or demented, or whatever they like. I just smile and blow another puff of smoke..
"You are.. My one.. Love.. My life I live for you..."
I'm sitting in front of the fireplace, in this cold winter night, and my only friends are this pipe, my Cabernet Sauvignon from my own cellar and ol' Frankie's voice. Oh, here comes the napolitano bit, I always liked that part.
I once dedicated this song to her. I wonder if she even remembers it..
"Ca u mare parla e na' carezza, Ma a tia la brezza, fina murir..."
I smile a bitter smile. I know she doesn't. She never understood, how much she meant to me. Can't really blame her, I guess, it's in the nature of human to forget, or so someone said. Might as well blame someone for having two eyes, right?
I drink some more wine, savoring its taste little by little, like my life hangs from it. Then I turn my attention to the space above the mantelpiece, where her portrait is. I painted that one, long ago. I was never good at painting, or copying faces on the canvas and that sort of thing. But after I lost her, her image was stuck so deep in my heart and my mind, that I eventually learned to paint, only to do her own portrait, from memory. And this was it. The only thing I ever did that I was a little proud of.
Another smile forms on my cold lips. And I did you good, didn't I? Dearest? A toast. I raise my glass. To your beauty. And my love for you.
I drink all the wine that's left in the glass all at once. It's snowing outside. Why does it happen so that it always snows on this day? Maybe up there, you still remember, and cry with me.. My tears are measured with drops of wine, and yours with snowfall.. Each gust of wind that takes the snowflakes with it is another one of your dances, so mystifying and dreamlike, like the gliding of an angel in the sky.
I remember you.
Always.
But this day is special, like I said. This is the day you left me. Alas, I know you didn't want to. I guess it was the mysterious touch of fate that took you from me, that dark November night, when you were hit by that train. And to think you were coming to visit me, after such a long time of working abroad. It was our one chance, to see each other again, like we promised.
My smile remains bitter.
What has fate wrought..
Tonight is your night. Our night. Tonight, you dance for me and I drink to bear the pain of watching you but being unable to embrace you once again.
"More wine sir?" A soft, known voice asks behind me.
Samantha, my maid. You would have liked her. She too plays the piano and loves to listen to songs we like. She also keeps your flowers from dying. She' a good woman, but quite stubborn at times. It's alright though, it's all in the set, as my father used to say.
Yes, please, Samantha. She has the bottle and asks me to fill my glass. I guess she thinks she's taking care of me that way. As if i couldn't order her to just give me the bottle whenever i wanted. But it's alright too, it's better that way.
She fills my glass and then patiently takes two steps backwards, standing there, waiting for my next order.
How many times do I have to tell you, Sam, you can always sit somewhere, we have many sofas, lots of couches, and even more chairs. All those years and still you feel as if standing there and tiring yourself is your duty?
"Well, it is, sir."
That again. My name is not sir, never was, and will never be. Adamantios, or Adam, if you prefer. I think 6 years are enough for you to be able to call me by my first name..
"But, sir!-"
I raise an index finger. Ah, ah! What did I just tell you about that?..
"Yes si- Adam.."
I smile again. Stubborn Samantha. Always the same. Your heart is kind and you restrain it.
"Do you want me to change the record or play it again, sir?"
I let a little sore laugh. Sir. Again. No, I tell Sam. I didn't even realise it'd ended. It's alright, I will be returning to my reading soon, anyway. You know I can't read while listening to music.. I don't know which one demands more attention from me.
She smiles.
"Yes, sir. Do you need anything else?"
No, I believe this night is already at its end. I'm getting weary.. You are not free to take the rest of the night of, but also encouraged to. Another smile.
"Goodnight, Adam."
Goodnight, Samanta. And sweet dreams. May fate smile upon you.
"You know I don't believe in fate, Adam."
Neither do I, Sam. Neither do I. Now off you go.
She nods, and leaves.
Goodnight, Samantha. And good night to you, my dear.
Τρίτη 1 Ιουλίου 2008
ABC...
Another fine day, if i may say so.
Bees, trees, birds and all that.
Commonly, that's what you get anyway.
Death is all that lives here though.
Extremely peculiar, that.
For death to live somewhere, that is.
Gods know how one land can be ruled by death.
Hundreds of years, it's been like this.
I've only lived here for 30 years or so.
Just enough to know nothing about the place.
Keeps its secrets to itself, the land does.
Like it has a mind of its own, bugger it.
More than that, there's that tower up there,
No one knows who built it or when,
Presumably, it has always been there..
Quite so, I'm afraid, it seems like it watches us all the time..
Reality seems twisted around it.
Stare at it, and it stares back.
Turn your gaze, and feel it behind you, ready to stab you..
Undeniably there, Undeniably ominous.
Vast, burned land, and the king that watches over it.
Why? no one knows. There is no door to it.
Xenophobia keeps people from teaming up and entering it somehow.
Yonder, yonder... The ubiquitous watcher.
Zombies we are, and we work for it unknowing.
Bees, trees, birds and all that.
Commonly, that's what you get anyway.
Death is all that lives here though.
Extremely peculiar, that.
For death to live somewhere, that is.
Gods know how one land can be ruled by death.
Hundreds of years, it's been like this.
I've only lived here for 30 years or so.
Just enough to know nothing about the place.
Keeps its secrets to itself, the land does.
Like it has a mind of its own, bugger it.
More than that, there's that tower up there,
No one knows who built it or when,
Presumably, it has always been there..
Quite so, I'm afraid, it seems like it watches us all the time..
Reality seems twisted around it.
Stare at it, and it stares back.
Turn your gaze, and feel it behind you, ready to stab you..
Undeniably there, Undeniably ominous.
Vast, burned land, and the king that watches over it.
Why? no one knows. There is no door to it.
Xenophobia keeps people from teaming up and entering it somehow.
Yonder, yonder... The ubiquitous watcher.
Zombies we are, and we work for it unknowing.
One.
I want to be....
The hand that will catch you when you fall,
The arm that you will grip should you fall again,
The shoulder you can cry on and let it all go,
The ear you can talk to and unburden your chest,
The mouth that you will hear the most precious words of,
The lips you will kiss whenever you need it,
The chest you can rest your head on when you're tired,
The eyes that you can look into when you need to feel secure,
The heart that you will hear skipping a beat whenever you touch it,
The embrace you will have when you need a sanctuary from everything.
I want to be..
Everything for you..
For if you are content, then I am fulfilled.
If you are happy, then I am ecstatic.
If you need me, then I can't do anything without you.
If you love me, then I adore you the most.
And I want us to be one..
The hand that will catch you when you fall,
The arm that you will grip should you fall again,
The shoulder you can cry on and let it all go,
The ear you can talk to and unburden your chest,
The mouth that you will hear the most precious words of,
The lips you will kiss whenever you need it,
The chest you can rest your head on when you're tired,
The eyes that you can look into when you need to feel secure,
The heart that you will hear skipping a beat whenever you touch it,
The embrace you will have when you need a sanctuary from everything.
I want to be..
Everything for you..
For if you are content, then I am fulfilled.
If you are happy, then I am ecstatic.
If you need me, then I can't do anything without you.
If you love me, then I adore you the most.
And I want us to be one..
A Child Of Malkav Speaks
A frenzy of care and hate,
a passionate breath on the neck of one dead November,
a ship lost in the clouds of thought,
a mad wizard who has ran out of spells,
the frog that never became a prince,
the lost kiss of a tree in the desert that once prospered,
a beggar that laughs at the rude,
a man who died in love,
a step towards the fall,
the milk of the mother sea,
the carefree fauns in the bushes,
the dream of a blind traveler,
a swim in the fantasy of an adolescent rush,
the dream of a limp climber.
O, summer night, so full of magic, lust, love and conjurations,
wherefore are the adoration, the starts, the dreams, they have all turned to ashes..
a passionate breath on the neck of one dead November,
a ship lost in the clouds of thought,
a mad wizard who has ran out of spells,
the frog that never became a prince,
the lost kiss of a tree in the desert that once prospered,
a beggar that laughs at the rude,
a man who died in love,
a step towards the fall,
the milk of the mother sea,
the carefree fauns in the bushes,
the dream of a blind traveler,
a swim in the fantasy of an adolescent rush,
the dream of a limp climber.
O, summer night, so full of magic, lust, love and conjurations,
wherefore are the adoration, the starts, the dreams, they have all turned to ashes..
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