NaNoWriMo post again.
Nov. 8th, 2004 01:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ragdoll1316217 words so far tonight. I saw on the NaNo forums that some people are already at 25,000 words plus, and it filled me with despair.
Anyway,
A terrifying scream reached into my sleep and pulled me out. It sounded like the kind of noise that would be torn from the throat of a mortally wounded animal. It held no workds, no inflection, no sense. It was followed by an impossibly loud crashing noise, like a tree branch had struck the building we were in. The next thing I was aware of was Chance's startled incoherent shout and then being jostled as he leapt up.
"Shit!" Chance's blue eyes were wide with horror and even to my sleep-bleary eyes the expression on his face was one of abject terror. He held his shotgun up pointed at the window in his trembling right hand.
The thing outside the window was human, or at least it was human shaped. It's face, for that was the part of it most prominent in the flicker of lightning that illuminated the scene at that moment, was gaunt; cheekbones and jaw bones and eye sockets standing out in sharp relief, covered by a layer of greyish, cracking skin. The lips were shriveled and putrid, no longer capable of forming distinct sounds, and they were shrunken and drawn back, leaving yellowed teeth exposed. The eyes were milky, staring, and lidless. As the creature clawed at the glass, it's fingertips left greasy yellow-green smears on the window, and what I had originally thought were fingernails were the tips of the finger bones, released from their covering of rotting flesh. As the thing moved, the rain-soften skin tore, releasing little floods of viscous fluid, and flakes of skin were washed down it's body in rivulets of rainwater.
It screamed again, a tortured sound that no living human could make. That sound broke the paralysis that held me, and I turned and vomitted helplessly onto the floor.
I was dimly aware of the fact that Chance was still screaming.
There were more flashes as James took photos of the creature with his camera.
"No! Don't break the glass!" James was shouting to be heard over the noise of the storm outside and the shrieking monster at the window, but it was too late. I was deafened as Chance emptied both barrels of the shotgun into the creature. The window shattered, and fell from it's frame, like a cascade of diamonds in the candlelight. There was a splatter of rot as the blast took off the monster's arm. Chance dropped the spent shotgun and grabbed the baseball bat off the floor. He leapt over a table in a rush toward the gaping hole. In a flash of blue white lightning, I saw his face was transformed. I shrank back but I could not look away. The thunder came then, almost as loud as the shotgun. Chance brought the bat down on the creature's hand as it tried to climb over the window sill, crushing the appendage beyond usefulness, and then he swung at the thing's head with ever ounce of strength in him. Even after it had fallen, he leapt out the window and continued smashing the crumpled form, until the bat rang like a bell on the pavement outside, until nothing identifiable as human remained... just a scattered pile of brittle bones and reeking slime.
He stood over his kill, chest heaving, mouth open and teeth bared, his eyes wide, trembling from head to foot.
"Motherfucker!" Chance shouted. "Did you fucking see that?! Fuck!" He climbed back into the shop, shaking and wet and spattered with gore. His was wet, straggling and plastered to his face. It was the color of wet sand. "Jesus," he breathed, and collapsed into the chair. "Fuck," his voice sounded hopeless, and the word ended in a sob. He covered his face with his left hand and his shoulders shook with silent tears.
"Well," James said after a couple moments of silence, "we can't leave that window open like that."
Anyway,
A terrifying scream reached into my sleep and pulled me out. It sounded like the kind of noise that would be torn from the throat of a mortally wounded animal. It held no workds, no inflection, no sense. It was followed by an impossibly loud crashing noise, like a tree branch had struck the building we were in. The next thing I was aware of was Chance's startled incoherent shout and then being jostled as he leapt up.
"Shit!" Chance's blue eyes were wide with horror and even to my sleep-bleary eyes the expression on his face was one of abject terror. He held his shotgun up pointed at the window in his trembling right hand.
The thing outside the window was human, or at least it was human shaped. It's face, for that was the part of it most prominent in the flicker of lightning that illuminated the scene at that moment, was gaunt; cheekbones and jaw bones and eye sockets standing out in sharp relief, covered by a layer of greyish, cracking skin. The lips were shriveled and putrid, no longer capable of forming distinct sounds, and they were shrunken and drawn back, leaving yellowed teeth exposed. The eyes were milky, staring, and lidless. As the creature clawed at the glass, it's fingertips left greasy yellow-green smears on the window, and what I had originally thought were fingernails were the tips of the finger bones, released from their covering of rotting flesh. As the thing moved, the rain-soften skin tore, releasing little floods of viscous fluid, and flakes of skin were washed down it's body in rivulets of rainwater.
It screamed again, a tortured sound that no living human could make. That sound broke the paralysis that held me, and I turned and vomitted helplessly onto the floor.
I was dimly aware of the fact that Chance was still screaming.
There were more flashes as James took photos of the creature with his camera.
"No! Don't break the glass!" James was shouting to be heard over the noise of the storm outside and the shrieking monster at the window, but it was too late. I was deafened as Chance emptied both barrels of the shotgun into the creature. The window shattered, and fell from it's frame, like a cascade of diamonds in the candlelight. There was a splatter of rot as the blast took off the monster's arm. Chance dropped the spent shotgun and grabbed the baseball bat off the floor. He leapt over a table in a rush toward the gaping hole. In a flash of blue white lightning, I saw his face was transformed. I shrank back but I could not look away. The thunder came then, almost as loud as the shotgun. Chance brought the bat down on the creature's hand as it tried to climb over the window sill, crushing the appendage beyond usefulness, and then he swung at the thing's head with ever ounce of strength in him. Even after it had fallen, he leapt out the window and continued smashing the crumpled form, until the bat rang like a bell on the pavement outside, until nothing identifiable as human remained... just a scattered pile of brittle bones and reeking slime.
He stood over his kill, chest heaving, mouth open and teeth bared, his eyes wide, trembling from head to foot.
"Motherfucker!" Chance shouted. "Did you fucking see that?! Fuck!" He climbed back into the shop, shaking and wet and spattered with gore. His was wet, straggling and plastered to his face. It was the color of wet sand. "Jesus," he breathed, and collapsed into the chair. "Fuck," his voice sounded hopeless, and the word ended in a sob. He covered his face with his left hand and his shoulders shook with silent tears.
"Well," James said after a couple moments of silence, "we can't leave that window open like that."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-11-08 01:39 am (UTC)Greaaaat. Now I get to take that thought to bed with me. Alone. Nice. The night I sleep alone and I get zombiepicturesinmyhead.
Is it okay if I add you?
--Steph
no subject
Date: 2004-11-08 01:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-08 09:14 pm (UTC)By the way, your description of the bat hitting the pavement was the sound of a bell...is the bat metal or wooden? Both could make a ringing noise, but my brain couldn't decide on what noise was more appropriate...I mean, no self respecting baseball player uses a metal bat...but at the same time, for zombie slaying a metal bat may seem to work better...
no subject
Date: 2004-11-10 10:56 pm (UTC)Good work. :)
(But wrong usage of "it's" vs. "its", consistently.)
no subject
Date: 2004-11-10 11:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-11 09:45 am (UTC)(And Wordpad vs. Word explains the lack of auto-spellcheck. :)