Saturday, October 25, 2008

I'm a flasher













Of fiction. Are you kidding me? Ripped Matthew McConaughey I ain't, plus there's that whole indecent exposure misdemeanor. But I gots me some smrts and that's always extra sexy. Anyway, get your mind out of the gutter and listen up. Übermilf has kindly demanded that we write -- well, just click over there for the rules if so inclined to pen your own masterpiece. Gather 'round and I shall tell you a tale spun in the grand tradition of beloved Halloween blankets of yore, except that this one is ratty and full of holes, causing you to die an icy death from extreme boredom and -- wait, let's let The Man read it, he can make anything sound spooky.














She was suddenly gripped by
an invisible yet manifestly clammy hand. Reason, in violent spasm, struggled against the onset of debilitating catatonia -- no, dearest baby Jesus, the hand wasn't -- human. Frightened far beyond the inability to think and with her mental faculties on summer vacation even though it was autumn, her motor skills rapidly shut down. The brakes were out as her mind crossed multiple lanes of sanity and crashed into abject, primal horror, every defense mechanism shattered, white-hot shrapnel flying away from her gentle soul with prodigious, sinister speed, illuminating the scene that circumscribed her fragile psyche.

She was surrounded.

North. South. East, and all the compass points between, past the gnarled trees and the old yellow house, the last one on the left; framed by the tenebrous night they were. Rivulets of sweat cascading off her trembling brow somehow turned a putrescent shade of red -- the moon? No, the sky was clear, the stars mocking her with each pulse of light -- she spun around, dizzy, looking for the faintest break in the wall of them, the smallest crack that would carry her frame past the hell of no-man's land that lay twixt her final breaths and perhaps, if she was lucky -- or cursed -- one more hour on the good earth.

Screaming for help was over the horizon of impossible, for the simplest, monosyllabic noise she was unable to summon from her throat, from the depths of her weakened body that knew only the erratic thump of her heaving, straining heart.

The wind, or what her agitated mind had thought was the wind, grew louder, opaque, oppressive. A solitary voice coiled around another; a third, a fourth, hundreds, thousands rocketing up from the blackest pit, an abyss so vile, so venomous, a cacophony split apart, giving birth to a second pandemonium that made the premier cower before this fresh, rotten evil. Wave after wave of aural terror shredded the dying air around her. A scream, oh god, a scream at last! instantaneously lost within the harrowing, deafening din that echoed until nothing was left but silence, and the end.

"Doggone it, darn right, you betcha...doggone it, darn right, you betcha...doggone it, darn right, you betcha...doggone it, darn right, you betcha..."

20 comments:

Missy said...

putrescent...

That word instantly made me think of the Princess Bride.

:grin: Well done. What could be more horrific than those words?

Distributorcap said...

nice towel Randal

La Belette Rouge said...

If you are going to write a scary story it is not wise to put a picture that terrifying on top. Seriously, I have to go wash out my psyche to get that image out of my mind.

And, your story made me feel almost sorry for Caribou Barbie. I love the line:"Frightened far beyond the inability to think and with her mental faculties on summer vacation even though it was autumn, her motor skills rapidly shut down."

I would pay big money to hear the thoughts of Palin as she is under attack. and the cold conversations that occur between Mc Lame and Moosalini.

Randal Graves said...

missy, inconceivable! Well, I suppose I could have prefaced them with a chorus of 'my friends.'

dcap, it's from the new Martha Stewart collection.

LBR, all part of the horror, mon amie. And no, Mooselini is the horror! This poor, unnamed female was confronted with such a vision of stark blasphemy. Although your idea could make quite an interesting tale.

Übermilf said...

I'm going to put a link to this in the comment section so people know you're done.

Thank you for participating. Maybe next time I'll come up with prizes.

If anyone else wants to participate, stories aren't due until Monday.

jeannie martini said...

What a way frightening way to go.

Sal Kilmister said...

I think you just inspired me to be a streaker for Halloween. I love that dude's man boobs.

DCup said...

I don't know which is more chilling. Your tale or that top picture.

DivaJood said...

I vote for the top picture. That's really scary.

Spartacus said...

Ya know Randal. There ought to be a law against posting pornographic pictures like that. In a Palin...err... I mean McCain Administration, that kind of filth will be outlawed. You betcha!

Randal Graves said...

übermilf, thanks for giving me something to post about. I fully support your plan for future prizes.

jeannie, I think the picture might kill anyone before they get a chance to read the story.

sal, he's quite the looker, no?

dcup, I vote the picture. But everyone, please read the story. Don't make me carve a backwards B into my cheek.

diva, possibly the creepiest thing I've ever put up.

spartacus, unless your name is Jim Jeff Gannon Guckert!

Christopher said...

Randal,

How did you learn to vogue like that?

Tyra would be proud.

Utah Savage said...

I hadn't seen the original of this challenge. I only did it because Dive hypnotized me with some gorgeous man ass and got me to thinking... I didn't pay close enough attention to the rules, but anything the Ubermilf suggests and Diva tricks me into doing has got to be okay. Right? Oh, Randal's here? What the fuck, I thought I was at Chez Ubermilf.

Nice job Randal. I hope you're happy with what you've done.

S.W. Anderson said...

Very clever, but before I got to the punchline it evoked a nightmare I've had more than once. It's a horrific din and roar that begins, "Hi, it's me, Billy Mays . . ."

And even before this loud, raspy-voiced beast further defiles the room by hollering on and on about stick-on light switches or detergent, I want to commit mayhem.

susan said...

We live in Lovecraftian times and you've done him proud.

If she'd scratched an 'O' on her cheek nobody would have noticed it was backward.

Randal Graves said...

christopher, between years of lessons and a natural gift, it's why I'm such a hit at parties.

utah, this only goes to show that it is impossible to escape infection. Just sit back and enjoy the fruits of internets zombiedom.

SWA, oh man, I honestly don't know what's worse. I'm assuming Mooselini won't be in the White House so I can avoid her when she gets her own hate-filled show on Faux, but Billy Mays? He's like the cockroach.

susan, only if it was one of those fancy, script Os. You know how fancy they can be.

DivaJood said...

Listen, Utah, I blame the government.

Beach Bum said...

Now that is writing. I was on the edge of my seat,

Border Explorer said...

Ooh la la!

Dean Wormer said...

Well, you leading the way on the flash fiction contest doesn't really leave much opportunity for anyone else since you hit a home run AND scored a touchdown with this thing of beauty. Well done, sir.