|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| OT: Add to this story [message #50445] |
Sat, 04 October 2003 10:12   |
 |
Walrus
Messages: 382
Registered: February 2003
Location: Good old England
Karma: 0
|
Commander |
|
|
His thoughts dwell back to game last night. He couldn’t sleep with the racket next door - who could, some times he felt like going and smashing the old woman’s face in, why the hell did she need so many dogs, why did she keep them out night after night! So he had gone down stairs and turned on the PC. The bright monitor glare filled the dark room the only sound was the buzz of the speakers and offset case fan that needed cleaning. The game had been zama, all part of some fucked up mod that had been released for ren - it looked promising and he looked forward to playing it more. Any thing to make this game last longer, anything to keep it alive. That’s when the first message came, right in the middle of the game just as a group of hinds came swooping low over the river. The blue writing of a private message from out side the game.
- It all began to get interesting.
C4lizzy:He's here, he's watching.
The messages continued when..
One Last Time
"England expects that every man will do his duty"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| OT: Add to this story [message #50519] |
Mon, 06 October 2003 02:48 |
|
Walrus
Messages: 382
Registered: February 2003
Location: Good old England
Karma: 0
|
Commander |
|
|
The game ended there and then. He didn’t bother shutting down the PC, he had enough time to press the power button then impulse took over. By the time the fan stopped spinning he was already out side. He fell out the front door still pulling on a pair of jeans he had grabbed on his way out. Outside it was cold and dark. This was the time of insomniacs and night shifters, people who were decent enough to work at night, but too poor to work by day. He’d been one of these people.
Alice. That was her name. Alice what though he wasn’t sure. They had met a few times but he had never caught her last name. Now she was there. She was the one screaming at the top of her lungs for some one to call an ambulance. At first he didn’t see the body and thought that something had happened to Alice. He was wrong. He ran over bare foot, when he was close enough he realized what had happened.
Alice was ok. Alice wasn’t the one who got hit by the car…
One Last Time
"England expects that every man will do his duty"
|
|
|
|
| OT: Add to this story [message #50523] |
Mon, 06 October 2003 04:09 |
|
Walrus
Messages: 382
Registered: February 2003
Location: Good old England
Karma: 0
|
Commander |
|
|
She needed an ambulance. Not that it would helped.
-You see it on TV every day. You watch ER and any number of poorly acted, ill researched medical dramas (,really Mr Crichton has a lot to answer for:) They show you all the detail, every broken arm, every split wrist, operations and infections. Its all there. Just for your entrainment. You would be surprised by people’s reaction in real life. When he got there all he could do was pull away and bolt his guts on the sidewalk. Nothing had prepared him for this. Not one thing had prepared him for seeing that woman lying there twisted and torn up side of the road. He saw it and was stunned, he felt it deep inside starting at the back of his neck and running all the down to his stomach. It was a feeling of pure disgust and loathing for what he’d seen. He couldn’t help it.
While he was bent over he saw martin. Martin was a friend from across the street, although not a close one, they worked for the same firm. Martin was a tall guy who towered over every one else, and right now he was stud in the doorway of his house smoking a cigarette, still wearing his PJ’s and a pair of the ugliest slippers you ever did see. Martin had his phone with him and was already talking to the 911 operators. At least some one was doing something right.
One Last Time
"England expects that every man will do his duty"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| OT: Add to this story [message #50550] |
Mon, 06 October 2003 09:20 |
|
Walrus
Messages: 382
Registered: February 2003
Location: Good old England
Karma: 0
|
Commander |
|
|
- When he finally pulled him self together he walked over and stud by Alice’s side, he couldn’t get the taste of bile out of his mouth, or the aching in his stomach from having nearly spilled his guts, that oven ready pizza was fine were it was.
- It was a sorry sight indeed, sobering not because something bad had happened but because that was another person lying there, it was the woman who takes your order at the restaurant, or your own sister. It didn’t matter who it was, the symbolism was the same. The feeling does pass though. Know that it washes over you and leaves you cold, so that at the time you can at least do something even is it’s just standing in the middle of the street watching it all happen. Of course it comes back, it always does, and no fancy headshrinker will be able to help. Late at night these people come in to your room and remind you of that moment that changed your whole out look on this wonderful fun filled plain of existence called life. And then what happens? You sit there in your bed, wide awake, because sooner or latter you have to go to the same place they went to, and you don’t know if your method of getting there is a car traveling 60mph late one night.
And she lay there bleeding.
-Alice had been the first one there and had regretted it. Her white blouse was stained and streaked dark brown. Alice wasn’t even talking now, when she saw him standing there her eyes were wide and shocked, did she even see him at all? Or had he become part of the landscape? The truth was, Alice wanted to be anywhere but here. She wished that she had never come out. No one, least of all her wanted to see the warm and fuzzy layers of reality stripped away. No one wanted to know that people could die like this. No one wanted to hold the hand of dieing stranger.
-All he could do was stand there and bare whiteness to this woman’s last moments on earth…
One Last Time
"England expects that every man will do his duty"
|
|
|
|
| OT: Add to this story [message #50611] |
Tue, 07 October 2003 02:15 |
|
Walrus
Messages: 382
Registered: February 2003
Location: Good old England
Karma: 0
|
Commander |
|
|
-She had to have been crossing the road, he thought, it was the only way. Just like that dog. It had been one of the old ladies. A whippet called Bengy. He had gotten loose and had come bounding out on to the road. Bengy didn’t get far, he got out just in time to meet a car on its way to work. A blow of a horn, a yelp and the sound of car breaking heavily and it was over. All there was to do was look out side and see the smoke from the radiator, and maybe have a chat with the neighbors. It’s always good to keep up appearances.
The damd thing got bounced clean across the road right up on to the curb. That driver had to stop. He had pulled up a little further along the street from they were now. It wasn’t because he had just run over some ones beloved pet and wanted to apologize, but because Little Bengy had put a big fucking dent in the car and smashed the radiator. Even if the car had been fine, he wasn’t. The driver hadn’t been wearing his seat belt and the classic Buick he was driving hadn’t got an air bag. Back when it was built such things didn’t exist, and the driver had wanted to keep his ol car just the way he’d bought it. Even at a relatively low speed the impact was just enough (,especial when combined with the heart stopping moment were he jammed on the breaks,) to send him face first in to the steering wheel.
That car hadn’t been going that fast. What ever had done this had…
One Last Time
"England expects that every man will do his duty"
|
|
|
|
| OT: Add to this story [message #50612] |
Tue, 07 October 2003 02:33 |
|
Walrus
Messages: 382
Registered: February 2003
Location: Good old England
Karma: 0
|
Commander |
|
|
"Are you still day dreaming!" His boss was standing in the doorway. Every time she came in it was the same thing, he would be sat there in a world of his own. Martin had told her what happened, she shouldn’t even had let him come in today. It was surprising he had come in at all.
"I'm sorry, I was just-"
"Go home and get some rest, I will get a temp to cover."
He would have argued but he was too tired. He finished filing the papers and when he was done he went home...
One Last Time
"England expects that every man will do his duty"
|
|
|
|
|
|
| OT: Add to this story [message #50682] |
Tue, 07 October 2003 17:43 |
|
Walrus
Messages: 382
Registered: February 2003
Location: Good old England
Karma: 0
|
Commander |
|
|
Gone now. Nothing left of those last few moments. Just a body. A shell. Who ever said that the dead have the face of one sleeping was lying. No one who ever died went willingly, not every one who killed had a reason. If a hand was thrust threw the black veil of death, and that hand was salvation, almost any one would take it. And the cost?
He lay there slumped back over the coffee table, the impact had torn the back of his head leaving streaks of blood running down one leg and pooling on the carpet, one of gods own creations left dead and cold with a knife still sticking out of his groin. A mixture of blood and mucus had welled up in his throat, it was that what killed him and not the final cut. He lay there in the front room eyes focused ahead seeing something that no one else but the dieing could see could see. The last moment of martins life was compounded by the dull pain and the knife thrust forward. He had tried to breath threw the mess in his throat, but his strength ebbed away. All he could do was watch.
The killer moved.
One Last Time
"England expects that every man will do his duty"
|
|
|
|
|
|
| OT: Add to this story [message #50687] |
Tue, 07 October 2003 18:07 |
|
Walrus
Messages: 382
Registered: February 2003
Location: Good old England
Karma: 0
|
Commander |
|
|
Try to add something alittle more construstive.
Did he struggle? There were ways to find out but this was only preliminary, all the details would get sorted out latter. Did Mr, ermm, Martin Morris, know the killer? Only a handful of murders happen were the killer and the victim are strangers. There is usually something to connect them, a spilt beer, a girl, wife, a husband, a burglary gone wrong, the list goes on and on. It all depend on how broad your definition of ‘stranger’ is. All you need is a reason, sometime you didn’t even need that.
It was these questions the detectives were asking them selfs as they moved around the body. The forensics guy had already been in and okayed it for them to move around.
How did he die? Now that was a good one. The officer who walked in first had a pretty good idea how it happened. He wasn’t sure why it had happened or what it was about the body that made him so uneasy. You’d think that after ten years he would be used to shit like this. It might be because he hadn’t seen a body like this in a while. Something like this doesn’t come around often and when it does you only see it in photographs.
The poor fuck had been gutted like a fish, and this was no after death job, this was the real deal. This poor fuck had been gutted why he was still twitching. The officer knelt down by the body. The knife had been dug in just under his breast bone and then pulled down to the base of his penis, what a fucking way to go. Most people thought that it was impossible, that shit like this only happened in bad horror film to big titted bitches who had it coming, Nope. All you needed was the right kind of knife, and the right touch, of course.
The only one who knew what had happened was the bloke that had been found face down in the hall.
One Last Time
"England expects that every man will do his duty"
|
|
|
|
Search
Help
Members
Register
Login
Home
