17 On his arrival, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. 18 Now Bethany was less than two miles from Jerusale… morem, 19 and many Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them in the loss of their brother. 20 When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed at home. 21 “Lord,” Martha said to Jesus, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died. 22 But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.” 23 Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” 24 Martha answered, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.” 25 Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; 26 and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?” 27 “Yes, Lord,” she replied, “I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.” 28 After she had said th… [view original content]
Ivan furiously slammed the door, unable to look at that thing and it's mess anymore. He backed away from the door, dearly hoping that this would keep the creature outside. "Get hit by another truck, asshole." He spoke, but regretted it. He could feel it's beady eyes on him, it's intent, yellow, blood-matted ears listening. It wouldn't leave. It, hey, there's that word again it's an it which it is it's an it it's an it it an it it it it it it
Ivan gritted his teeth, looking around to see if there were any places for the cat to get in. Unfortunately, there was. And the cat had already taken it.
Noodlestrop was sitting on a table just across the way, staring quite intently at Ivan. The two stared at each other for a few moments, Ivan just listening to his own breath, and the cat doing the complete opposite. Eventually, it rose it's yellow paw up and began to lick it. It's mocking me. Ivan thought, his hand twitching as he leaned up against the wall. It was mocking him. The demon inside the cat's body was mocking him. "You got hit by a truck. Why don't you just die?" Ivan trembled out, the cat still licking it's own paw. It looked up at Ivan once, whisked it's tail into the air, then began licking it's law against. It's pretending to be a normal cat now. It's mocking me.
"Fuck you." Ivan told it, and the small sign of a grin seemed to form at the corner's of it's mouth.
A week later, Ivan was feeling back to normal. Kristine and Brendon had returned, and Noodlestrop seemed to be acting less strange, although Brendon would no longer let the cat sleep in his own bed because he felt "unclean." Unclean was the most certain word for it. Ivan sighed, sinking into the couch that he currently sat in, then breathed out as he felt a hand touch his shoulder, the hand belonging to Kristine. "You alright? You seem stressed."
Always am. He quickly thought, but instead shook his head. "I'm fine. Tired, but I'm fine." He rasped through a yawn, and sniffed the air as if he were sick. "Are you sure?" Kristine once again asked, and Ivan nodded, rolling his eyes. "I'm perfectly fine."
This caused Kristine herself to brew with rage. "God-fucking-dammit Ivan, sometimes I just don't fucking get you! I really fucking don't, okay?!" She suddenly yelled, and Ivan held up two hands above his head. "I'm so sorry, did I happen to offend you? Sorry if I did, it's not like I've been to jail, and it's not like I witnessed somebody get run over by a truck while I held their dead body in my bare fucking hands, and it's definitely not like I witness-" Ivan suddenly stopped himself, a croak instead popping from his throat. He could feel those beady eyes on him, old Scott Leland, professional murderer, drunkard, liar, and philanthropist. Ivan smiled, and Kristine stood up, walking away. "I hate you Ivan! I fucking hate you!"
"Go on! Sulk around, why don't you..."
Oh, that yellow brick road was getting followed, it was getting followed good. Hey, scarecrow, what's that, you want a brain? And that old tin man wants a heart? Aw, ain't that sweet. And that lion? All he wants is a spine! A spine! Grow your own spine, you fucking lion.
Hey, I'm gonna get you too, another one bites the dust, look out! - Freddie Mercury
Are you gonna go my way? - Lenny Kravitz
Dead man walking! - Death Row Inmates
I don't believe we're in Kansas anymore, Toto. - Dorothy
Like a lot of people, Scott Leland couldn't seem to get those eyes off of himself. Unlike Ivan Leighton however, the eyes following Scott were his own. He was murderer, a liar, a drunkard, and perhaps even a philanthropist. "You're a real tough cookie, with a long history..." He sang drunkenly to himself, lolling his head up and down, back and forth to the beat he was creating with his own hand. He proceeded to skip the rest of the first verse, and go straight into the chorus. "Hit me with your best shot, come on and hit me with your best shot..."
"Okay."
Scott suddenly craned his head back. Was somebody just talking to him? Who was just talking to him? It wasn't himself, right? Right! It wasn't himself. It was somebody else. Somebody else was in the house with him. "Of breaking little hearts like the one in meeee..." He then proceeded back to his song, suddenly deciding to finish the first verse for some strange reason that only the drunk knew. Perhaps he'd go piss out in the backyard sooner or later, or maybe even wake up on some random playground, on top of the monkey bars. But nonetheless, he did miss the figure in the back of his living room, musing to itself.
Ivan was current internally debating what to do, as he stared down at the cat below him. He was internally debating one thing however:
How am I going to kill this thing?
As if the cat heard his thoughts, it uneasily shifted back, whisking it's tail up into the air. Ivan could go and grab a gun, or he could stab the creature. Perhaps he should go get a gun. Perhaps he should do not a thing. But, finally, Ivan decided that if he were going to kill it, he could jr do it crudely with a knife. Psychotic, as it look to anybody who came across the cat having been cut open and gutted like a fish. However, with a gun, he could just pretend as if poor old Noodlestrop had wandered too far, and one of those hick kids came out and shot him with a 42. Believable story. You could be a natural born killer, Ivan.
[Shut the door]
Ivan furiously slammed the door, unable to look at that thing and it's mess anymore. He backed away from the door, dearly… more hoping that this would keep the creature outside. "Get hit by another truck, asshole." He spoke, but regretted it. He could feel it's beady eyes on him, it's intent, yellow, blood-matted ears listening. It wouldn't leave. It, hey, there's that word again it's an it which it is it's an it it's an it it an it it it it it it
Ivan gritted his teeth, looking around to see if there were any places for the cat to get in. Unfortunately, there was. And the cat had already taken it.
Noodlestrop was sitting on a table just across the way, staring quite intently at Ivan. The two stared at each other for a few moments, Ivan just listening to his own breath, and the cat doing the complete opposite. Eventually, it rose it's yellow paw up and began to lick it. It's mocking me. Ivan thought, his hand twitching as h… [view original content]
[Shut the door]
Ivan furiously slammed the door, unable to look at that thing and it's mess anymore. He backed away from the door, dearly… more hoping that this would keep the creature outside. "Get hit by another truck, asshole." He spoke, but regretted it. He could feel it's beady eyes on him, it's intent, yellow, blood-matted ears listening. It wouldn't leave. It, hey, there's that word again it's an it which it is it's an it it's an it it an it it it it it it
Ivan gritted his teeth, looking around to see if there were any places for the cat to get in. Unfortunately, there was. And the cat had already taken it.
Noodlestrop was sitting on a table just across the way, staring quite intently at Ivan. The two stared at each other for a few moments, Ivan just listening to his own breath, and the cat doing the complete opposite. Eventually, it rose it's yellow paw up and began to lick it. It's mocking me. Ivan thought, his hand twitching as h… [view original content]
[Shut the door]
Ivan furiously slammed the door, unable to look at that thing and it's mess anymore. He backed away from the door, dearly… more hoping that this would keep the creature outside. "Get hit by another truck, asshole." He spoke, but regretted it. He could feel it's beady eyes on him, it's intent, yellow, blood-matted ears listening. It wouldn't leave. It, hey, there's that word again it's an it which it is it's an it it's an it it an it it it it it it
Ivan gritted his teeth, looking around to see if there were any places for the cat to get in. Unfortunately, there was. And the cat had already taken it.
Noodlestrop was sitting on a table just across the way, staring quite intently at Ivan. The two stared at each other for a few moments, Ivan just listening to his own breath, and the cat doing the complete opposite. Eventually, it rose it's yellow paw up and began to lick it. It's mocking me. Ivan thought, his hand twitching as h… [view original content]
[Shut the door]
Ivan furiously slammed the door, unable to look at that thing and it's mess anymore. He backed away from the door, dearly… more hoping that this would keep the creature outside. "Get hit by another truck, asshole." He spoke, but regretted it. He could feel it's beady eyes on him, it's intent, yellow, blood-matted ears listening. It wouldn't leave. It, hey, there's that word again it's an it which it is it's an it it's an it it an it it it it it it
Ivan gritted his teeth, looking around to see if there were any places for the cat to get in. Unfortunately, there was. And the cat had already taken it.
Noodlestrop was sitting on a table just across the way, staring quite intently at Ivan. The two stared at each other for a few moments, Ivan just listening to his own breath, and the cat doing the complete opposite. Eventually, it rose it's yellow paw up and began to lick it. It's mocking me. Ivan thought, his hand twitching as h… [view original content]
[Shut the door]
Ivan furiously slammed the door, unable to look at that thing and it's mess anymore. He backed away from the door, dearly… more hoping that this would keep the creature outside. "Get hit by another truck, asshole." He spoke, but regretted it. He could feel it's beady eyes on him, it's intent, yellow, blood-matted ears listening. It wouldn't leave. It, hey, there's that word again it's an it which it is it's an it it's an it it an it it it it it it
Ivan gritted his teeth, looking around to see if there were any places for the cat to get in. Unfortunately, there was. And the cat had already taken it.
Noodlestrop was sitting on a table just across the way, staring quite intently at Ivan. The two stared at each other for a few moments, Ivan just listening to his own breath, and the cat doing the complete opposite. Eventually, it rose it's yellow paw up and began to lick it. It's mocking me. Ivan thought, his hand twitching as h… [view original content]
[Shut the door]
Ivan furiously slammed the door, unable to look at that thing and it's mess anymore. He backed away from the door, dearly… more hoping that this would keep the creature outside. "Get hit by another truck, asshole." He spoke, but regretted it. He could feel it's beady eyes on him, it's intent, yellow, blood-matted ears listening. It wouldn't leave. It, hey, there's that word again it's an it which it is it's an it it's an it it an it it it it it it
Ivan gritted his teeth, looking around to see if there were any places for the cat to get in. Unfortunately, there was. And the cat had already taken it.
Noodlestrop was sitting on a table just across the way, staring quite intently at Ivan. The two stared at each other for a few moments, Ivan just listening to his own breath, and the cat doing the complete opposite. Eventually, it rose it's yellow paw up and began to lick it. It's mocking me. Ivan thought, his hand twitching as h… [view original content]
Ivan shuddered, staring wide eyed at the cat, more scared of himself then that thing down there. "Oh God..." Ivan whispered, putting his hands on the side of his face, groaning. The cat stared at him, and Ivan suddenly welled with rage. "Get the fuck out of here!" He yelled, kicking at the creature and sending it scurrying off. "It's all your fault it's all your fault it's all your fault!" He fumed at Noodlestrop, kicking over a small plant, sending the black soil everywhere. He stared down at the plant suddenly, it's pot cracked and the poor thing lying helplessly on the ground. "Jesus Christ." Ivan laughed, then sat back down on the couch.
"Exactly the opposite." He whispered to himself.
Scott Leland was at the bar, drinking his sorrows away. Right now what he was trying to get off his mind was the Gulf War. He contemplated that zone, fighting and shooting and...other things. He had murdered two people in cold blood now. Cold blood being not exactly self-defense. Yes, Scott supposed there was a difference between killing and outright murder. And that woman back in the Gulf...
Outright.
Scott took another sip of his beer, his eyes darting back and forth, as he swayed his head to "Sunshine of Your Love" playing on the radio. Scott quickly sat up, then began making his way for the door. He walked outside, eyeing a man in a fedora, who was leaning up against a car. The man held up a hand in a still wave, and Scott nodded to the man. He was sure he saw the man move out of the corner of his eye, but he quickly shrugged it off as a drunken blur.
Scott drove down the road, his radio off and his own car sliding all over the road. He looked up to see an Orinco truck fly by him, and Scott shook his head. After his eyes followed the truck, he found himself glaring into his rearview mirror, eyeing a new driver behind him. Was that? No, it couldn't be. But it could. But it could but it could but it could Scott don't you get it Scott you fucking idiot don't you get it
Scott shrugged the car off as he pulled in and the car passed by. He did find himself struggling to open his door however.
Scott slept well that night. He knew that in the morning he would have a headache that would somehow make his spine shake. Then, he would get up, possibly jerk off, then he would go to work after making some breakfast (pouring cereal into a bowl.) But Scott had possibly the best sleep of his entire night. Except for one thing...
He had a horrifying dream.
At least, he thought it was a dream at first.
He had waken up to the sound of music playing, an old tune from...from the Wizard of Oz. It was the one the three little boys sang. "We are, the Lollipop Kids, the Lollipop Kids." They sang downstairs, and Scott tilted his head in wonder. He nearly went down until he heard the thumping.
Thump thump.
Thump thump.
There was a light scratching too, as if someone was dragging their fingernails across a wall. And someone was.
Scott grabbed his pillow in fear, watching his door for something to come in. The Lollipop Kids still sang downstairs, as Scott's door creaked open. "Scott...you are obsolete..." The figure whispered, then burst into the room with a wail and wicked grin. He grabbed ahold of Scott and showed his destroyed fingernails before slamming two fists into Scott's chest. Scott grappled on to the man's arms and threw him off, breathing heavily and leaping from his bed. He slammed his knee into the door and stumbled down the stairs. About halfway down he stood back up, as the figure appeared at the top of the staircase, a revolver in his hand. He fired a shot into Scott's back, causing him to stumble over, face first.
Scott reached out for his living room, and then the figure climbed down and grabbed him by the back of his shirt, dragging him across the room. "God...God please...you need me...you don't need the other one...please..." Fucking Ivan did this! Ivan did his! Scott should have killed Ivan back at the Micmac Burial Ground, probably should have buried him. "How do you like those fucking druggies Ivan?! What's behind the deadfall huh? What's behind it?! Smucky's obediant, I'm obediant, please! Dear fuck! Stop it!"
The man slung Scott back on to the ground, then grabbed a fire poker out of the hearth. "Bring it on! Fucking bastards! I fucking knew it! Fucking Ivan Leighton and that witch girlfriend of yours! The little whore! And that shithead with the cat! Let's see the fucking druggies Ivan! Come on! Come on! COME ON!"
Scott didn't get to finish his rant as he went into a vegetative state as the fire poker slammed into his head the first time, and then he finally died the second. The man kept hitting Scott with the fire poker for five straight minutes, until his face was nothing but a grimy mess of blood, bone, and brain.
The next day, Ivan had already made up his mind that he was going to apologize to Kristine. She was heading down the stairs for college, and he was just waking up from his sleep on the couch. He frowned, having just eyed the potted plant he broke (and then proceeded to fix before anybody knew it was knocked over) then quickly stood up, walking over to her. "Kristine, look. I...I'm sorry for what I did. I...I'm just under stress...I had no right to say those things. I'm...I'm serious. God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Kristine stared at him for a second, then she looked at her own feet. Finally, she grabbed him in a hug, resting her head on his shoulder. "It's good enough, I suppose." Ivan laughed, as the two released from their hug. "Ivan...you can be a dick. But I can be a bitch. I mean, we get under stress. You've held a kid that just got hit by a truck in your arms...you've been in jail...a crooked cop blackmailed you." A grim smiled formed in her face, and then faded as she looked back up at Ivan. "You don't think you have...post traumatic stress? I'm just guessing here."
Ivan sighed and leaned up against the couch. If that's what you want to call it. He nearly said, but instead thought for a few seconds on what the answer he wanted to give was. "I..." Ivan was suddenly interrupted by a loud knocking...no, it was a banging...at the door. He quickly looked up, and a chill flew down his spine. There was something wrong. He knew it. Ivan knew that there was something horribly wrong on the other end of that door.
He looked at Kristine, then at himself, then at the door.
[Do nothing]
Ivan shuddered, staring wide eyed at the cat, more scared of himself then that thing down there. "Oh God..." Ivan whispered,… more putting his hands on the side of his face, groaning. The cat stared at him, and Ivan suddenly welled with rage. "Get the fuck out of here!" He yelled, kicking at the creature and sending it scurrying off. "It's all your fault it's all your fault it's all your fault!" He fumed at Noodlestrop, kicking over a small plant, sending the black soil everywhere. He stared down at the plant suddenly, it's pot cracked and the poor thing lying helplessly on the ground. "Jesus Christ." Ivan laughed, then sat back down on the couch.
"Exactly the opposite." He whispered to himself.
Scott Leland was at the bar, drinking his sorrows away. Right now what he was trying to get off his mind was the Gulf War. He contemplated that zone, fighting and shooting and...other things. He had murdered two people in cold blood … [view original content]
Oh damn it, shame that Scott had to go... I mean, yes, he was a complete bastard and it was well-deserved, but he was also a very compelling character.
[Open the door yourself]
By the way, who is Rachel? Shouldn't it be Kristine?
[Do nothing]
Ivan shuddered, staring wide eyed at the cat, more scared of himself then that thing down there. "Oh God..." Ivan whispered,… more putting his hands on the side of his face, groaning. The cat stared at him, and Ivan suddenly welled with rage. "Get the fuck out of here!" He yelled, kicking at the creature and sending it scurrying off. "It's all your fault it's all your fault it's all your fault!" He fumed at Noodlestrop, kicking over a small plant, sending the black soil everywhere. He stared down at the plant suddenly, it's pot cracked and the poor thing lying helplessly on the ground. "Jesus Christ." Ivan laughed, then sat back down on the couch.
"Exactly the opposite." He whispered to himself.
Scott Leland was at the bar, drinking his sorrows away. Right now what he was trying to get off his mind was the Gulf War. He contemplated that zone, fighting and shooting and...other things. He had murdered two people in cold blood … [view original content]
Oh, crap. I knew that was going to happen eventually. I was thinking about the original where the main character's wife is named Rachel, and I screwed up. I'll fix it right away!
Oh damn it, shame that Scott had to go... I mean, yes, he was a complete bastard and it was well-deserved, but he was also a very compelling character.
[Open the door yourself]
By the way, who is Rachel? Shouldn't it be Kristine?
[Do nothing]
Ivan shuddered, staring wide eyed at the cat, more scared of himself then that thing down there. "Oh God..." Ivan whispered,… more putting his hands on the side of his face, groaning. The cat stared at him, and Ivan suddenly welled with rage. "Get the fuck out of here!" He yelled, kicking at the creature and sending it scurrying off. "It's all your fault it's all your fault it's all your fault!" He fumed at Noodlestrop, kicking over a small plant, sending the black soil everywhere. He stared down at the plant suddenly, it's pot cracked and the poor thing lying helplessly on the ground. "Jesus Christ." Ivan laughed, then sat back down on the couch.
"Exactly the opposite." He whispered to himself.
Scott Leland was at the bar, drinking his sorrows away. Right now what he was trying to get off his mind was the Gulf War. He contemplated that zone, fighting and shooting and...other things. He had murdered two people in cold blood … [view original content]
[Do nothing]
Ivan shuddered, staring wide eyed at the cat, more scared of himself then that thing down there. "Oh God..." Ivan whispered,… more putting his hands on the side of his face, groaning. The cat stared at him, and Ivan suddenly welled with rage. "Get the fuck out of here!" He yelled, kicking at the creature and sending it scurrying off. "It's all your fault it's all your fault it's all your fault!" He fumed at Noodlestrop, kicking over a small plant, sending the black soil everywhere. He stared down at the plant suddenly, it's pot cracked and the poor thing lying helplessly on the ground. "Jesus Christ." Ivan laughed, then sat back down on the couch.
"Exactly the opposite." He whispered to himself.
Scott Leland was at the bar, drinking his sorrows away. Right now what he was trying to get off his mind was the Gulf War. He contemplated that zone, fighting and shooting and...other things. He had murdered two people in cold blood … [view original content]
[Do nothing]
Ivan shuddered, staring wide eyed at the cat, more scared of himself then that thing down there. "Oh God..." Ivan whispered,… more putting his hands on the side of his face, groaning. The cat stared at him, and Ivan suddenly welled with rage. "Get the fuck out of here!" He yelled, kicking at the creature and sending it scurrying off. "It's all your fault it's all your fault it's all your fault!" He fumed at Noodlestrop, kicking over a small plant, sending the black soil everywhere. He stared down at the plant suddenly, it's pot cracked and the poor thing lying helplessly on the ground. "Jesus Christ." Ivan laughed, then sat back down on the couch.
"Exactly the opposite." He whispered to himself.
Scott Leland was at the bar, drinking his sorrows away. Right now what he was trying to get off his mind was the Gulf War. He contemplated that zone, fighting and shooting and...other things. He had murdered two people in cold blood … [view original content]
[Do nothing]
Ivan shuddered, staring wide eyed at the cat, more scared of himself then that thing down there. "Oh God..." Ivan whispered,… more putting his hands on the side of his face, groaning. The cat stared at him, and Ivan suddenly welled with rage. "Get the fuck out of here!" He yelled, kicking at the creature and sending it scurrying off. "It's all your fault it's all your fault it's all your fault!" He fumed at Noodlestrop, kicking over a small plant, sending the black soil everywhere. He stared down at the plant suddenly, it's pot cracked and the poor thing lying helplessly on the ground. "Jesus Christ." Ivan laughed, then sat back down on the couch.
"Exactly the opposite." He whispered to himself.
Scott Leland was at the bar, drinking his sorrows away. Right now what he was trying to get off his mind was the Gulf War. He contemplated that zone, fighting and shooting and...other things. He had murdered two people in cold blood … [view original content]
Ivan quickly shuffled to the door in front of Kristine, causing her to step back in confusion. Ivan gave her a weak smile, then grasped ahold of the doorknob. It turned quite easily in his hand, as Ivan heard the clasp of the lock chink and the door opened. Ivan himself was quite surprised by the man waiting outside. Or, well, it was not really a man, nor a woman. It was inside a previous man's body, of course, just like Noodlestrop no longer existed, neither did Martin Hart. Martin Hart had died about a week ago.
Yet here he was.
In the living flesh, Martin Hart was standing on Ivan's front porch, his face in an extended state of deadpan, as he stared down Ivan. While his mouth did not show it, Martin's eyes were cold, the pupils dilated and dancing around like a fire. The pupils rested on Ivan, as Martin pushed his way inside the house. "Uh, Martin?" Kristine yelped, watching the man make himself at home. The detective stepped up to a wall, his back against the two young adults, and finally his lips moved. "Ivan, Kristine, I need you both to know something."
Ivan was still standing by the open door, sputtering. Martin was dead, he was dead, he was dead. Most definitely dead. He walked, like some twisted, intelligent zombie.
Maybe Martin hadn't died. Neither did Noodlestrop. Ivan attempted to comfort himself with the thought of dreams once again, but it was no use. Seeing was believing, and Ivan had seen quite a few things. The insane thought of calling out Martin for what he was struck him, but the thought was suddenly replaced by "Follow the yellow brick road." Ivan looked towards Martin Hart, his eyes still dancing around as he stumbled forward, Martin's leg twisted suddenly, but he fixed it quickly. "Are you okay?" Kristine asked, her eyes narrowing towards the man. There's that angry streak again. Ivan smiled in his mind, but all he could think about were those cold, dead eyes. Ivan watched as Martin appeared to grow in anger, yet a smile formed at the edges of his mouth instead. Martin quickly went back into the deadpan, then nodded. "I just twisted it last week. Feel like I got buried in a hole..." He gave a quick glance towards Ivan, a wild look full of playfulness. Ivan could practically hear his laughing inside his own head. Laugh all you want, asshole. Ivan fumed internally, but waited for Martin to speak again.
"Anyways, for the reason I'm here." Martin mused, then rose a hand. "Scott was found dead in his home last night. Poor guy. He had a ton of DUIs, but I don't think he deserved to die. Especially not as he did."
Kristine rose a hand to her mouth, then looked off to the side. "Oh my God." She said, then looked over to Ivan for his answer to this new information. Ivan, himself, didn't find this too terribly shocking. He was struck with guilt, for the feeling he had wasn't one of sadness, it was of relief. You're as cold as ice. He told himself, then looked at Martin. Cold as ice. The Rolling Stones hit him hard once more, and he was stricken with a new thought. He's so cold, like a tombstone.
Like a tombstone.
"Was it one of Chris's friends?" Ivan finally felt himself saying, watching Martin keenly for a response. Nothing showed on his face other than the same deadpan. It hadn't really occurred to Ivan that if Martin was dead, he was going to be something different. No longer a human. And something was no longer human did not adhere to the same laws as normal humans. "No. But I think it was someone similar." Martin said, his mouth once again breathing out a light smile that could barely be seen. But Ivan could see it. Ivan could see the cat smile at him, and he was certainly going to see Martin smile at him. "I really got to get back to the police station guys. I just felt like you both may have wanted to know before it got out on the news."
Martin stepped out as fast as he had entered, with Kristine taking particular notice of the back of his neck. "Did you see those red marks on the back of his neck?" She asked Ivan, who simply nodded. "Yeah. I did."
Tina Storm sat at her desk, busily scribbling away the latest letter she was to send off to her parents. It was a time-consuming method of communication, but alas, her grandmother owned no phone. The town of Ludlow was a comforting place, but one full of advanced technology it was not. Rosemary, Tina’s grandmother was at the top of the stairs currently, resting her head on a soft, pink velvet pillow, lined with satin and dark splashes of purple. Tina smiled at the thought of her sweet grandmother at the top of the stairs, a sixty-eight year old woman with a heart of gold.
She dabbed a little bit of pencil on to the blank paper, spelling out the word Love before raising her No. 2 towards the next word. She stopped for a small second, feeling someone’s eyes on her, as she glanced back to the stairs, looking for her grandmother. No elder was there, and Tina sighed before returning to her work.
It was less than a half-minute later when she heard his breathing. No, not breathing. It was a rasping chortle, a laugh that she could not comprehend. It was the still heart of Martin, and wind blew through his empty organs like a flute. She contemplated screaming, but did not. She feared if she did scream she would be killed. So instead, Tina pursed her lips and slowly turned around. He was not there, as she had previously thought. This was simply another moment of vile illusions she had been having ever since the pet sa-mah-taree. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that Martin was fit as a fiddle somewhere, but he was lurking, waiting for the time to strike.
The cool, night breeze moaned outside, a fitting environment to her current thoughts. She shivered, expecting herself that it was cold in the house as her grandmother liked it, but instead the sensation was one from Martin Hart, who lay adrift in her subconscious. Tina nearly sat up, but instead reeled back into her chair, as the soft breathing returned. It was chanting something, as it seemed. An insane pattern of one word over and over again.
“Legion, legion, legion, legion.”
Arild Sundby sat in a chair quietly, only two hours after the intrusion inside Tina’s home. He was calm, currently, as he most of the time was. Except for very few incidents, as they had called them, he had never killed a soul. Nope, never ever ever. He was a good little boy, yes he was, yes he was. Good dog, good doggie. He was such a good doggie, wasn’t he? Yet he had that urge...the urge to go his own way. Fuck you Lenny Kravitz, I do whatever I want. He wickedly thought, then thought about Kristine and how good she’d look with a hole in her chest, guts spilled everywhere.
“Munthausen Munthausen, I want YOOOOOOOUUUUU BAAAAABBEEEE!” He cried out, biting at his nails as his front door opened and in walked Martin Hart. “Hey buddy.” The former detective and person smiled, and Arild was greeted with a warmth, as if his mother had come over and hugged him. He looked at Martin with a childlike sense of happiness and glee, then clapped his hands together. “I know you.”
Martin squeezed Arild’s shoulder, and smiled reassuringly. “How would you like to be king, Arild?” Arild looked at him, his head tilted for a second, then his head popped back up with glee. “I do, I do, I do!” He grinned fiercely, but then a thought hit him and he frowned. “But...but kings don’t kill people. I killed people I killed people!”
Martin nodded his head knowingly, like a mother talking to a scared child. “You’re going to be a different king, Arild. You’re the new king, a part of the new world. You are the leader.” Martin shrilled on, his voice echoing and flowing through the house. Arild looked at Martin, then nodded. “Yes! Yes yes yes!” Good doggie, good doggie.
Ivan Leighton was lying in his bed with Kristine while Arild was himself wishing to do the same thing. It had been a night of pleasure so far, much better than the day that had preceded it. His mind was reeling not just from the brilliant love he had made, but also because of Martin Hart. He had certainly expected him to come back. After all, the dead cat was wandering the front yard right now.
Martin and Noodlestrop were different, yet the same. Both were now husks, dead yet living, unbreathing but their hearts were beating, it was not possible it was not possible. Ivan would have torn his hair out but he heard the familiar sound he had not heard in a while.
Very good chapter! I suspected Martin coming back ever since Scott buried him at the Semahtary. Still, it was great to see him back. Sort of back... More like it was great to see his undead body with a twisted personality back. Now that I think about it, he likely murdered Scott. Maybe it isn't that good to have him back...
[Open the door yourself]
Ivan quickly shuffled to the door in front of Kristine, causing her to step back in confusion. Ivan gave her a w… moreeak smile, then grasped ahold of the doorknob. It turned quite easily in his hand, as Ivan heard the clasp of the lock chink and the door opened. Ivan himself was quite surprised by the man waiting outside. Or, well, it was not really a man, nor a woman. It was inside a previous man's body, of course, just like Noodlestrop no longer existed, neither did Martin Hart. Martin Hart had died about a week ago.
Yet here he was.
In the living flesh, Martin Hart was standing on Ivan's front porch, his face in an extended state of deadpan, as he stared down Ivan. While his mouth did not show it, Martin's eyes were cold, the pupils dilated and dancing around like a fire. The pupils rested on Ivan, as Martin pushed his way inside the house. "Uh, Martin?" Kristine yelped, watching the man make himself at home. T… [view original content]
[Open the door yourself]
Ivan quickly shuffled to the door in front of Kristine, causing her to step back in confusion. Ivan gave her a w… moreeak smile, then grasped ahold of the doorknob. It turned quite easily in his hand, as Ivan heard the clasp of the lock chink and the door opened. Ivan himself was quite surprised by the man waiting outside. Or, well, it was not really a man, nor a woman. It was inside a previous man's body, of course, just like Noodlestrop no longer existed, neither did Martin Hart. Martin Hart had died about a week ago.
Yet here he was.
In the living flesh, Martin Hart was standing on Ivan's front porch, his face in an extended state of deadpan, as he stared down Ivan. While his mouth did not show it, Martin's eyes were cold, the pupils dilated and dancing around like a fire. The pupils rested on Ivan, as Martin pushed his way inside the house. "Uh, Martin?" Kristine yelped, watching the man make himself at home. T… [view original content]
[Open the door yourself]
Ivan quickly shuffled to the door in front of Kristine, causing her to step back in confusion. Ivan gave her a w… moreeak smile, then grasped ahold of the doorknob. It turned quite easily in his hand, as Ivan heard the clasp of the lock chink and the door opened. Ivan himself was quite surprised by the man waiting outside. Or, well, it was not really a man, nor a woman. It was inside a previous man's body, of course, just like Noodlestrop no longer existed, neither did Martin Hart. Martin Hart had died about a week ago.
Yet here he was.
In the living flesh, Martin Hart was standing on Ivan's front porch, his face in an extended state of deadpan, as he stared down Ivan. While his mouth did not show it, Martin's eyes were cold, the pupils dilated and dancing around like a fire. The pupils rested on Ivan, as Martin pushed his way inside the house. "Uh, Martin?" Kristine yelped, watching the man make himself at home. T… [view original content]
Once Pet Sematary is finished, how would you guys like to see a WWII story, playing from many different perspectives? I think it sounds like fun, if you guys think it would be a fun thing to do.
Wondering...
Once Pet Sematary is finished, how would you guys like to see a WWII story, playing from many different perspectives? I think it sounds like fun, if you guys think it would be a fun thing to do.
Wondering...
Once Pet Sematary is finished, how would you guys like to see a WWII story, playing from many different perspectives? I think it sounds like fun, if you guys think it would be a fun thing to do.
[Open the door yourself]
Ivan quickly shuffled to the door in front of Kristine, causing her to step back in confusion. Ivan gave her a w… moreeak smile, then grasped ahold of the doorknob. It turned quite easily in his hand, as Ivan heard the clasp of the lock chink and the door opened. Ivan himself was quite surprised by the man waiting outside. Or, well, it was not really a man, nor a woman. It was inside a previous man's body, of course, just like Noodlestrop no longer existed, neither did Martin Hart. Martin Hart had died about a week ago.
Yet here he was.
In the living flesh, Martin Hart was standing on Ivan's front porch, his face in an extended state of deadpan, as he stared down Ivan. While his mouth did not show it, Martin's eyes were cold, the pupils dilated and dancing around like a fire. The pupils rested on Ivan, as Martin pushed his way inside the house. "Uh, Martin?" Kristine yelped, watching the man make himself at home. T… [view original content]
[Open the door yourself]
Ivan quickly shuffled to the door in front of Kristine, causing her to step back in confusion. Ivan gave her a w… moreeak smile, then grasped ahold of the doorknob. It turned quite easily in his hand, as Ivan heard the clasp of the lock chink and the door opened. Ivan himself was quite surprised by the man waiting outside. Or, well, it was not really a man, nor a woman. It was inside a previous man's body, of course, just like Noodlestrop no longer existed, neither did Martin Hart. Martin Hart had died about a week ago.
Yet here he was.
In the living flesh, Martin Hart was standing on Ivan's front porch, his face in an extended state of deadpan, as he stared down Ivan. While his mouth did not show it, Martin's eyes were cold, the pupils dilated and dancing around like a fire. The pupils rested on Ivan, as Martin pushed his way inside the house. "Uh, Martin?" Kristine yelped, watching the man make himself at home. T… [view original content]
Wondering...
Once Pet Sematary is finished, how would you guys like to see a WWII story, playing from many different perspectives? I think it sounds like fun, if you guys think it would be a fun thing to do.
Wondering...
Once Pet Sematary is finished, how would you guys like to see a WWII story, playing from many different perspectives? I think it sounds like fun, if you guys think it would be a fun thing to do.
[Open the door yourself]
Ivan quickly shuffled to the door in front of Kristine, causing her to step back in confusion. Ivan gave her a w… moreeak smile, then grasped ahold of the doorknob. It turned quite easily in his hand, as Ivan heard the clasp of the lock chink and the door opened. Ivan himself was quite surprised by the man waiting outside. Or, well, it was not really a man, nor a woman. It was inside a previous man's body, of course, just like Noodlestrop no longer existed, neither did Martin Hart. Martin Hart had died about a week ago.
Yet here he was.
In the living flesh, Martin Hart was standing on Ivan's front porch, his face in an extended state of deadpan, as he stared down Ivan. While his mouth did not show it, Martin's eyes were cold, the pupils dilated and dancing around like a fire. The pupils rested on Ivan, as Martin pushed his way inside the house. "Uh, Martin?" Kristine yelped, watching the man make himself at home. T… [view original content]
Ivan knew it was him. The filthy ghost boy was standing just outside, all covered in leaves and blood, that stupid grin all over his face. Ivan sat up in bed, the springs creaking and the wood moaning. Kristine did not move a single muscle, despite her being one of the least heavy sleepers he'd ever seen. The red-haired woman would normally bolt up at the sound of a pin drop, but not today. Now, she seemed to not stir at all. Ivan threw his covers off of himself, and stormed for the door. He quickly opened it, a look of anger mixed with despair covering his face. Hope COLE waited downstairs, smiling and waving around. The two stared at each other, the grimace still on Ivan's face and the grin still on the ghost. The young adult slowly walked down the stairs, staring at Hope Cole. Ivan could feel every step creak as he smashed into them with his feet, but he did not stop. He moved faster than he ever had. Ivan began to rush down the stairs, as Hope Cole quickly fled towards the living room, into the darkness. Ivan did not bother with clicking on the lights and maneuvering around furniture. Instead, he immediately chased the dead teenager outdoors, looking around for him.
He saw nothing but darkness. He heard nothing but the crickets chirping.
Where the fuck did you go?! Ivan wildly thought, his heart pumping and his blood pressure rising. His adrenal glands began to flow with adrenaline, and he stepped into the damp grass. Finally, Ivan spotted the figure.
He was hovering inside the dim light of a street lamp, every part of him dark except for that wicked smile. Ivan took a step forward, and squinted at the ghost. "What do you want?!" He yelled at it, and in a furious rage stomped his foot. Hope Cole continued to smiled and hover, before speaking. "You did not heed my warning, Ivan."
Ivan stared at him with crazed and delirious eyes. "What the fuck do you mean?!" Ivan screamed once again, as the ghost spoke. "Don't go beyond. Yet you went beyond. And you released him."
"Him?! You mean Martin?!" Ivan called out, and the ghost did not nod or shake his head. "No. Not Martin."
Ivan stared at the ghost one last time, as it was silent for a few moments. It was insanity, standing here and yelling at a flying corpse. You're crazy, Ivan. You're craaaaaaazzzzyyyyy. Toys in the attic, truly gone fishing. But if Ivan was crazy, he wanted the hallucinations to leave him already. "Get the fuck out of here!" Ivan screamed, as the street lamp flickered and the floating teen disappeared.
Ivan Leighton never saw Hope Cole again.
Jane Tyra sat in a rocking chair, her reading glasses perched on her wrinkly nose and a thick book in her hands. The seventy-year old woman quietly flipped a page, happily smiling to herself as her eyes flickered over the page. It was page number 218, to be exact, and she had precisely twenty-two more pages to go. She was currently reading an older novel about the Depression-era, which she herself had personally participated in. It had been a time of despair, agony, and pain, but Jane had trekked through it. She was a tough woman, having had many struggle through her time.
She moved her head and looked away from the page for a slight second, now hovering over a picture of her grandchildren. A young boy of about ten happily smiled, wearing a red and white striped t-shirt, while another boy of perhaps seventeen picked him up, a smile draped on his face. Jane herself gave a quick look at it, a soft happy face on her. She dearly missed her own children, who had moved away to South Carolina in the 80s. Jane sighed, then closed her book as she walked upstairs to get her nightgown on. Unfortunately, her foot came down on a nail, stabbing the poor woman as she fell down the stairs, breaking her neck. Martin Hart ran away from the house, eager to get rid of the next one.
Dan Wong leaned against his desk, the police office light flickering and dimming. It was a quiet night, and he was a quiet man. He had always been. Wong had come to America in 1972 with his parents, and he could still remember the thoughts he had when he saw the Statue of Liberty. He was a young boy then, only about 8, but he certainly knew that this was where he would stay once he saw the Statue. Dan had since moved around the country, finally settling down in Ludlow, although he was considering moving again.
He fixed his tie, then sat down in an office chair and stared at the police records. The folder was full of criminals, such as murderers or shoplifters or even the occasional pot dealer, but nothing particularly interesting. He rubbed his scruffy five o'clock shadow, and became distracted as the bush just outside began to shake.
Dan rubbed his eyes and stood up, checking to make sure if the bush shaking was real. When the shrubbery began to twist around a second time, he grabbed his pistol from the desk and moved out. A Colt 44. that he liked to call the Peacemaker, this pistol he had never used before but had always wanted to. He had been to a few shooting ranges before, of course, and the gun had always felt good in his hands. Dan burst through the glass doors, and ran over to the bush. He began to paw his way through the plant, the gun still wrapped tightly in his hands. But suddenly, a gloved hand grabbed his mouth and pulled him back, as the attacker pulled him up.
The Peacemaker fired two shots into the night sky as Dan’s hand was pulled back and he fired a third. The blast tore off his ear, as Wong suddenly felt deep pain his head and the gun was knocked from his hand. Dan fell on to the sidewalk, as the attacker grabbed the gun and fired the fourth shot into his left shoulder blade and then into Dan’s head. Wong’s face separated as his right eye exploded and part of his frontal lobe splattered onto the ground. Arild Sundby ran off, headed for a new house.
Terrence Red quickly scribbled something down on to a piece of paper, then stood up. He was an African-American lawyer in his forties, his wife having died of a car accident two months ago. The man dropped his reading glasses on to the desk he had just been working at, then sat at his counter and began to cry as he always did every night. He certainly missed her. Alexis Red was lying dead in a grave, after her and her husband were driving down the street one night and had been blindsided by a drunken redneck. “Why didn’t you take me...god, why didn’t you take me too?!” Terrence suddenly screamed in rage, as another sob found it’s way to him.
Terrence stood up as he walked upstairs to go to bed. He certainly missed his wife dreadfully. He had tried to kill himself twice now, only to chicken out. He didn’t want to die, did he? No, he didn’t. The older man had once tried to hang himself, breaking his arm in the process, and then attempted to overdose on pills only to vomit it back up. It appeared he was still meant for something in this world, and God was keeping him in it.
As Terrence reached his bedroom, he took a gaze of his window, noticing the curtains were flying around, the window had been shattered and a cool breeze flew in. Terrence sputtered, before he felt a hand jab into his back. Terrence instinctively kicked back, feeling his foot smash into the other man’s knee. However, it seemed as if he could feel no pain as the man grabbed Terrence’s chest and stabbed a shard of glass into his small intestine. Terrence threw a punch back and sent the man reeling, then grabbed the piece of glass still in his stomach.
The attacker suddenly ripped a lamp from a wall, the extension cord following it. The cord suddenly tightened around Terrence’s neck, who then rushed forward towards the window in a desperate attempt to escape. He flung himself out, but the cord tightened even more and Terrence was caught. He grasped his neck, hearing the wires tearing and breaking at his weight. If he could survive just a little longer he would live, he would live…
Before the cord broke however, Terrence Red suffocated and died, and his body hit the ground in a bloody and wired mess.
Randall Gerry had rushed to his basement and grabbed a shotgun as Arild Sundby chased after him. He had picked the double-barrel up and fired one shot, which flung into Arild’s shoulder, knocking him down. The next shot however caused the barrel of the gun to explode, sending shrapnel into Randall’s face and ripping apart his head.
A librarian named Sandy Terse accidentally overdosed on sleeping pills as somebody stuffed twenty into a water bottle in her fridge. She too had tried to throw up, but had fallen over in surprise, then choked on her breakfast.
Herman Szulc’s neck was broken as a door repeatedly slammed into his head when he was attacked.
Darcy Long bled out on her living room floor when a bullet passed through her abdomen.
And so on, and so on, and so on.
Most people had already left Ludlow. They themselves were not eager to be the next one dead, as the previous two weeks had laid out that there had been many. Wondering what serial killer was coming after them, the police department appeared to break apart as they all died or left as well. But one house still had it’s lights on it Ludlow, and that was the one of Ivan Leighton. The man had tried to pack desperately, but he knew something was keeping him here. He knew it.
Kristine and Brendon knew it too. As did Jeff, who had come to stay with them as the murders had been awfully close to his house. And now, as Ivan stared at his car, the hood now empty and cracked. he found himself feeling a little bit insane. Ivan flung the hood up just to make sure he was seeing straight. Yep, the engine was still gone. It became obvious that Martin had taken it. After Tina died, it was all becoming obvious. Tina had died a week ago, found dead in her home, her head dislodged from her neck. It was sad, sure, but Ivan had expected it.
He expected he was next as well.
Ivan burst into the house, where everyone walked about in a panicked frenzy. They had all already put their belongings into the car. But they had tried to start it up, and the car would not start. Noodlestrop sat in a cat carrier on the couch, probably happily laughing and grinning as the cat always did now. Well, laughing in his mind, at least. “We need a new car.” Ivan suddenly stated, and everyone looked at him. “I’ll come with you.” Brendon suddenly said, straightening up and looking at Ivan. “I’ll go too.” Jeff said, and Kristine looked at Ivan with a nod. Ivan however, shook his head. “No. One of us needs to stay behind and watch the house. I think it should be Kristine.” Ivan replied, and Kristine, puzzled, looked at him. She brought a hand to her temple and rubbed it gently, then sighed and nodded. “Fine. I’ll stay.” Ivan smiled in a form of gratitude, then looked over to Jeff and Brendon.
[Go see Hope Cole]
Ivan knew it was him. The filthy ghost boy was standing just outside, all covered in leaves and blood, that stupid gri… moren all over his face. Ivan sat up in bed, the springs creaking and the wood moaning. Kristine did not move a single muscle, despite her being one of the least heavy sleepers he'd ever seen. The red-haired woman would normally bolt up at the sound of a pin drop, but not today. Now, she seemed to not stir at all. Ivan threw his covers off of himself, and stormed for the door. He quickly opened it, a look of anger mixed with despair covering his face. Hope COLE waited downstairs, smiling and waving around. The two stared at each other, the grimace still on Ivan's face and the grin still on the ghost. The young adult slowly walked down the stairs, staring at Hope Cole. Ivan could feel every step creak as he smashed into them with his feet, but he did not stop. He moved faster than he ever had. Ivan began to ru… [view original content]
With Arild clearly being obsessed with Kristine, I could see him trying to take her out next. I feel it would be safer if she has someone to protect her and this someone shouldn't be Brendon who does not seem to be that reliable.
[Go see Hope Cole]
Ivan knew it was him. The filthy ghost boy was standing just outside, all covered in leaves and blood, that stupid gri… moren all over his face. Ivan sat up in bed, the springs creaking and the wood moaning. Kristine did not move a single muscle, despite her being one of the least heavy sleepers he'd ever seen. The red-haired woman would normally bolt up at the sound of a pin drop, but not today. Now, she seemed to not stir at all. Ivan threw his covers off of himself, and stormed for the door. He quickly opened it, a look of anger mixed with despair covering his face. Hope COLE waited downstairs, smiling and waving around. The two stared at each other, the grimace still on Ivan's face and the grin still on the ghost. The young adult slowly walked down the stairs, staring at Hope Cole. Ivan could feel every step creak as he smashed into them with his feet, but he did not stop. He moved faster than he ever had. Ivan began to ru… [view original content]
[Go see Hope Cole]
Ivan knew it was him. The filthy ghost boy was standing just outside, all covered in leaves and blood, that stupid gri… moren all over his face. Ivan sat up in bed, the springs creaking and the wood moaning. Kristine did not move a single muscle, despite her being one of the least heavy sleepers he'd ever seen. The red-haired woman would normally bolt up at the sound of a pin drop, but not today. Now, she seemed to not stir at all. Ivan threw his covers off of himself, and stormed for the door. He quickly opened it, a look of anger mixed with despair covering his face. Hope COLE waited downstairs, smiling and waving around. The two stared at each other, the grimace still on Ivan's face and the grin still on the ghost. The young adult slowly walked down the stairs, staring at Hope Cole. Ivan could feel every step creak as he smashed into them with his feet, but he did not stop. He moved faster than he ever had. Ivan began to ru… [view original content]
This Is The Forum's End will be a comedy based on This Is The End, but with you regular forumers and such. That probably won't be the final name though.
Dead Man Walking will be a story about a man wrongfully put on death row and put in prison in the 40s. Similar to The Shawshank Redemption and The Green Mile.
Comments
[Quickly shut the door] - It's time to close the door, 'cause that ain't right, it's really weird...like...ew.
[Shut the door]
Ivan furiously slammed the door, unable to look at that thing and it's mess anymore. He backed away from the door, dearly hoping that this would keep the creature outside. "Get hit by another truck, asshole." He spoke, but regretted it. He could feel it's beady eyes on him, it's intent, yellow, blood-matted ears listening. It wouldn't leave. It, hey, there's that word again it's an it which it is it's an it it's an it it an it it it it it it
Ivan gritted his teeth, looking around to see if there were any places for the cat to get in. Unfortunately, there was. And the cat had already taken it.
Noodlestrop was sitting on a table just across the way, staring quite intently at Ivan. The two stared at each other for a few moments, Ivan just listening to his own breath, and the cat doing the complete opposite. Eventually, it rose it's yellow paw up and began to lick it. It's mocking me. Ivan thought, his hand twitching as he leaned up against the wall. It was mocking him. The demon inside the cat's body was mocking him. "You got hit by a truck. Why don't you just die?" Ivan trembled out, the cat still licking it's own paw. It looked up at Ivan once, whisked it's tail into the air, then began licking it's law against. It's pretending to be a normal cat now. It's mocking me.
"Fuck you." Ivan told it, and the small sign of a grin seemed to form at the corner's of it's mouth.
A week later, Ivan was feeling back to normal. Kristine and Brendon had returned, and Noodlestrop seemed to be acting less strange, although Brendon would no longer let the cat sleep in his own bed because he felt "unclean." Unclean was the most certain word for it. Ivan sighed, sinking into the couch that he currently sat in, then breathed out as he felt a hand touch his shoulder, the hand belonging to Kristine. "You alright? You seem stressed."
Always am. He quickly thought, but instead shook his head. "I'm fine. Tired, but I'm fine." He rasped through a yawn, and sniffed the air as if he were sick. "Are you sure?" Kristine once again asked, and Ivan nodded, rolling his eyes. "I'm perfectly fine."
This caused Kristine herself to brew with rage. "God-fucking-dammit Ivan, sometimes I just don't fucking get you! I really fucking don't, okay?!" She suddenly yelled, and Ivan held up two hands above his head. "I'm so sorry, did I happen to offend you? Sorry if I did, it's not like I've been to jail, and it's not like I witnessed somebody get run over by a truck while I held their dead body in my bare fucking hands, and it's definitely not like I witness-" Ivan suddenly stopped himself, a croak instead popping from his throat. He could feel those beady eyes on him, old Scott Leland, professional murderer, drunkard, liar, and philanthropist. Ivan smiled, and Kristine stood up, walking away. "I hate you Ivan! I fucking hate you!"
"Go on! Sulk around, why don't you..."
Oh, that yellow brick road was getting followed, it was getting followed good. Hey, scarecrow, what's that, you want a brain? And that old tin man wants a heart? Aw, ain't that sweet. And that lion? All he wants is a spine! A spine! Grow your own spine, you fucking lion.
Hey, I'm gonna get you too, another one bites the dust, look out! - Freddie Mercury
Are you gonna go my way? - Lenny Kravitz
Dead man walking! - Death Row Inmates
I don't believe we're in Kansas anymore, Toto. - Dorothy
Like a lot of people, Scott Leland couldn't seem to get those eyes off of himself. Unlike Ivan Leighton however, the eyes following Scott were his own. He was murderer, a liar, a drunkard, and perhaps even a philanthropist. "You're a real tough cookie, with a long history..." He sang drunkenly to himself, lolling his head up and down, back and forth to the beat he was creating with his own hand. He proceeded to skip the rest of the first verse, and go straight into the chorus. "Hit me with your best shot, come on and hit me with your best shot..."
"Okay."
Scott suddenly craned his head back. Was somebody just talking to him? Who was just talking to him? It wasn't himself, right? Right! It wasn't himself. It was somebody else. Somebody else was in the house with him. "Of breaking little hearts like the one in meeee..." He then proceeded back to his song, suddenly deciding to finish the first verse for some strange reason that only the drunk knew. Perhaps he'd go piss out in the backyard sooner or later, or maybe even wake up on some random playground, on top of the monkey bars. But nonetheless, he did miss the figure in the back of his living room, musing to itself.
Ivan was current internally debating what to do, as he stared down at the cat below him. He was internally debating one thing however:
How am I going to kill this thing?
As if the cat heard his thoughts, it uneasily shifted back, whisking it's tail up into the air. Ivan could go and grab a gun, or he could stab the creature. Perhaps he should go get a gun. Perhaps he should do not a thing. But, finally, Ivan decided that if he were going to kill it, he could jr do it crudely with a knife. Psychotic, as it look to anybody who came across the cat having been cut open and gutted like a fish. However, with a gun, he could just pretend as if poor old Noodlestrop had wandered too far, and one of those hick kids came out and shot him with a 42. Believable story. You could be a natural born killer, Ivan.
[Go buy a gun]
[Do nothing]
[Do nothing]
Ivan's getting a little creepy here...
[Go buy a gun] Cause why not? xd
Awesome Chapter!!!!!
[Do nothing]
[Do nothing]
[Do nothing]
[Do nothing]
[Do nothing]
Ivan shuddered, staring wide eyed at the cat, more scared of himself then that thing down there. "Oh God..." Ivan whispered, putting his hands on the side of his face, groaning. The cat stared at him, and Ivan suddenly welled with rage. "Get the fuck out of here!" He yelled, kicking at the creature and sending it scurrying off. "It's all your fault it's all your fault it's all your fault!" He fumed at Noodlestrop, kicking over a small plant, sending the black soil everywhere. He stared down at the plant suddenly, it's pot cracked and the poor thing lying helplessly on the ground. "Jesus Christ." Ivan laughed, then sat back down on the couch.
"Exactly the opposite." He whispered to himself.
Scott Leland was at the bar, drinking his sorrows away. Right now what he was trying to get off his mind was the Gulf War. He contemplated that zone, fighting and shooting and...other things. He had murdered two people in cold blood now. Cold blood being not exactly self-defense. Yes, Scott supposed there was a difference between killing and outright murder. And that woman back in the Gulf...
Outright.
Scott took another sip of his beer, his eyes darting back and forth, as he swayed his head to "Sunshine of Your Love" playing on the radio. Scott quickly sat up, then began making his way for the door. He walked outside, eyeing a man in a fedora, who was leaning up against a car. The man held up a hand in a still wave, and Scott nodded to the man. He was sure he saw the man move out of the corner of his eye, but he quickly shrugged it off as a drunken blur.
Scott drove down the road, his radio off and his own car sliding all over the road. He looked up to see an Orinco truck fly by him, and Scott shook his head. After his eyes followed the truck, he found himself glaring into his rearview mirror, eyeing a new driver behind him. Was that? No, it couldn't be. But it could. But it could but it could but it could Scott don't you get it Scott you fucking idiot don't you get it
Scott shrugged the car off as he pulled in and the car passed by. He did find himself struggling to open his door however.
Scott slept well that night. He knew that in the morning he would have a headache that would somehow make his spine shake. Then, he would get up, possibly jerk off, then he would go to work after making some breakfast (pouring cereal into a bowl.) But Scott had possibly the best sleep of his entire night. Except for one thing...
He had a horrifying dream.
At least, he thought it was a dream at first.
He had waken up to the sound of music playing, an old tune from...from the Wizard of Oz. It was the one the three little boys sang. "We are, the Lollipop Kids, the Lollipop Kids." They sang downstairs, and Scott tilted his head in wonder. He nearly went down until he heard the thumping.
Thump thump.
Thump thump.
There was a light scratching too, as if someone was dragging their fingernails across a wall. And someone was.
Scott grabbed his pillow in fear, watching his door for something to come in. The Lollipop Kids still sang downstairs, as Scott's door creaked open. "Scott...you are obsolete..." The figure whispered, then burst into the room with a wail and wicked grin. He grabbed ahold of Scott and showed his destroyed fingernails before slamming two fists into Scott's chest. Scott grappled on to the man's arms and threw him off, breathing heavily and leaping from his bed. He slammed his knee into the door and stumbled down the stairs. About halfway down he stood back up, as the figure appeared at the top of the staircase, a revolver in his hand. He fired a shot into Scott's back, causing him to stumble over, face first.
Scott reached out for his living room, and then the figure climbed down and grabbed him by the back of his shirt, dragging him across the room. "God...God please...you need me...you don't need the other one...please..." Fucking Ivan did this! Ivan did his! Scott should have killed Ivan back at the Micmac Burial Ground, probably should have buried him. "How do you like those fucking druggies Ivan?! What's behind the deadfall huh? What's behind it?! Smucky's obediant, I'm obediant, please! Dear fuck! Stop it!"
The man slung Scott back on to the ground, then grabbed a fire poker out of the hearth. "Bring it on! Fucking bastards! I fucking knew it! Fucking Ivan Leighton and that witch girlfriend of yours! The little whore! And that shithead with the cat! Let's see the fucking druggies Ivan! Come on! Come on! COME ON!"
Scott didn't get to finish his rant as he went into a vegetative state as the fire poker slammed into his head the first time, and then he finally died the second. The man kept hitting Scott with the fire poker for five straight minutes, until his face was nothing but a grimy mess of blood, bone, and brain.
The next day, Ivan had already made up his mind that he was going to apologize to Kristine. She was heading down the stairs for college, and he was just waking up from his sleep on the couch. He frowned, having just eyed the potted plant he broke (and then proceeded to fix before anybody knew it was knocked over) then quickly stood up, walking over to her. "Kristine, look. I...I'm sorry for what I did. I...I'm just under stress...I had no right to say those things. I'm...I'm serious. God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Kristine stared at him for a second, then she looked at her own feet. Finally, she grabbed him in a hug, resting her head on his shoulder. "It's good enough, I suppose." Ivan laughed, as the two released from their hug. "Ivan...you can be a dick. But I can be a bitch. I mean, we get under stress. You've held a kid that just got hit by a truck in your arms...you've been in jail...a crooked cop blackmailed you." A grim smiled formed in her face, and then faded as she looked back up at Ivan. "You don't think you have...post traumatic stress? I'm just guessing here."
Ivan sighed and leaned up against the couch. If that's what you want to call it. He nearly said, but instead thought for a few seconds on what the answer he wanted to give was. "I..." Ivan was suddenly interrupted by a loud knocking...no, it was a banging...at the door. He quickly looked up, and a chill flew down his spine. There was something wrong. He knew it. Ivan knew that there was something horribly wrong on the other end of that door.
He looked at Kristine, then at himself, then at the door.
[Have Kristine open the door]
[Open the door yourself]
[Open the door yourself]
Oh damn it, shame that Scott had to go... I mean, yes, he was a complete bastard and it was well-deserved, but he was also a very compelling character.
[Open the door yourself]
By the way, who is Rachel? Shouldn't it be Kristine?
Oh, crap. I knew that was going to happen eventually. I was thinking about the original where the main character's wife is named Rachel, and I screwed up. I'll fix it right away!
[Open the door yourself]
Don't want someone else to die, so we might as well do it ourselves. RIP Scott!
[Open the door yourself]
[Open the door yourself]
[Open the door yourself]
http://www.telltalegames.com/community/discussion/88772/nocturnal-academy-interactive-story
Sorry for the long wait guys! New part coming today!
[Open the door yourself]
Ivan quickly shuffled to the door in front of Kristine, causing her to step back in confusion. Ivan gave her a weak smile, then grasped ahold of the doorknob. It turned quite easily in his hand, as Ivan heard the clasp of the lock chink and the door opened. Ivan himself was quite surprised by the man waiting outside. Or, well, it was not really a man, nor a woman. It was inside a previous man's body, of course, just like Noodlestrop no longer existed, neither did Martin Hart. Martin Hart had died about a week ago.
Yet here he was.
In the living flesh, Martin Hart was standing on Ivan's front porch, his face in an extended state of deadpan, as he stared down Ivan. While his mouth did not show it, Martin's eyes were cold, the pupils dilated and dancing around like a fire. The pupils rested on Ivan, as Martin pushed his way inside the house. "Uh, Martin?" Kristine yelped, watching the man make himself at home. The detective stepped up to a wall, his back against the two young adults, and finally his lips moved. "Ivan, Kristine, I need you both to know something."
Ivan was still standing by the open door, sputtering. Martin was dead, he was dead, he was dead. Most definitely dead. He walked, like some twisted, intelligent zombie.
Maybe Martin hadn't died. Neither did Noodlestrop. Ivan attempted to comfort himself with the thought of dreams once again, but it was no use. Seeing was believing, and Ivan had seen quite a few things. The insane thought of calling out Martin for what he was struck him, but the thought was suddenly replaced by "Follow the yellow brick road." Ivan looked towards Martin Hart, his eyes still dancing around as he stumbled forward, Martin's leg twisted suddenly, but he fixed it quickly. "Are you okay?" Kristine asked, her eyes narrowing towards the man. There's that angry streak again. Ivan smiled in his mind, but all he could think about were those cold, dead eyes. Ivan watched as Martin appeared to grow in anger, yet a smile formed at the edges of his mouth instead. Martin quickly went back into the deadpan, then nodded. "I just twisted it last week. Feel like I got buried in a hole..." He gave a quick glance towards Ivan, a wild look full of playfulness. Ivan could practically hear his laughing inside his own head. Laugh all you want, asshole. Ivan fumed internally, but waited for Martin to speak again.
"Anyways, for the reason I'm here." Martin mused, then rose a hand. "Scott was found dead in his home last night. Poor guy. He had a ton of DUIs, but I don't think he deserved to die. Especially not as he did."
Kristine rose a hand to her mouth, then looked off to the side. "Oh my God." She said, then looked over to Ivan for his answer to this new information. Ivan, himself, didn't find this too terribly shocking. He was struck with guilt, for the feeling he had wasn't one of sadness, it was of relief. You're as cold as ice. He told himself, then looked at Martin. Cold as ice. The Rolling Stones hit him hard once more, and he was stricken with a new thought. He's so cold, like a tombstone.
Like a tombstone.
"Was it one of Chris's friends?" Ivan finally felt himself saying, watching Martin keenly for a response. Nothing showed on his face other than the same deadpan. It hadn't really occurred to Ivan that if Martin was dead, he was going to be something different. No longer a human. And something was no longer human did not adhere to the same laws as normal humans. "No. But I think it was someone similar." Martin said, his mouth once again breathing out a light smile that could barely be seen. But Ivan could see it. Ivan could see the cat smile at him, and he was certainly going to see Martin smile at him. "I really got to get back to the police station guys. I just felt like you both may have wanted to know before it got out on the news."
Martin stepped out as fast as he had entered, with Kristine taking particular notice of the back of his neck. "Did you see those red marks on the back of his neck?" She asked Ivan, who simply nodded. "Yeah. I did."
Tina Storm sat at her desk, busily scribbling away the latest letter she was to send off to her parents. It was a time-consuming method of communication, but alas, her grandmother owned no phone. The town of Ludlow was a comforting place, but one full of advanced technology it was not. Rosemary, Tina’s grandmother was at the top of the stairs currently, resting her head on a soft, pink velvet pillow, lined with satin and dark splashes of purple. Tina smiled at the thought of her sweet grandmother at the top of the stairs, a sixty-eight year old woman with a heart of gold.
She dabbed a little bit of pencil on to the blank paper, spelling out the word Love before raising her No. 2 towards the next word. She stopped for a small second, feeling someone’s eyes on her, as she glanced back to the stairs, looking for her grandmother. No elder was there, and Tina sighed before returning to her work.
It was less than a half-minute later when she heard his breathing. No, not breathing. It was a rasping chortle, a laugh that she could not comprehend. It was the still heart of Martin, and wind blew through his empty organs like a flute. She contemplated screaming, but did not. She feared if she did scream she would be killed. So instead, Tina pursed her lips and slowly turned around. He was not there, as she had previously thought. This was simply another moment of vile illusions she had been having ever since the pet sa-mah-taree. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that Martin was fit as a fiddle somewhere, but he was lurking, waiting for the time to strike.
The cool, night breeze moaned outside, a fitting environment to her current thoughts. She shivered, expecting herself that it was cold in the house as her grandmother liked it, but instead the sensation was one from Martin Hart, who lay adrift in her subconscious. Tina nearly sat up, but instead reeled back into her chair, as the soft breathing returned. It was chanting something, as it seemed. An insane pattern of one word over and over again.
“Legion, legion, legion, legion.”
Arild Sundby sat in a chair quietly, only two hours after the intrusion inside Tina’s home. He was calm, currently, as he most of the time was. Except for very few incidents, as they had called them, he had never killed a soul. Nope, never ever ever. He was a good little boy, yes he was, yes he was. Good dog, good doggie. He was such a good doggie, wasn’t he? Yet he had that urge...the urge to go his own way. Fuck you Lenny Kravitz, I do whatever I want. He wickedly thought, then thought about Kristine and how good she’d look with a hole in her chest, guts spilled everywhere.
“Munthausen Munthausen, I want YOOOOOOOUUUUU BAAAAABBEEEE!” He cried out, biting at his nails as his front door opened and in walked Martin Hart. “Hey buddy.” The former detective and person smiled, and Arild was greeted with a warmth, as if his mother had come over and hugged him. He looked at Martin with a childlike sense of happiness and glee, then clapped his hands together. “I know you.”
Martin squeezed Arild’s shoulder, and smiled reassuringly. “How would you like to be king, Arild?” Arild looked at him, his head tilted for a second, then his head popped back up with glee. “I do, I do, I do!” He grinned fiercely, but then a thought hit him and he frowned. “But...but kings don’t kill people. I killed people I killed people!”
Martin nodded his head knowingly, like a mother talking to a scared child. “You’re going to be a different king, Arild. You’re the new king, a part of the new world. You are the leader.” Martin shrilled on, his voice echoing and flowing through the house. Arild looked at Martin, then nodded. “Yes! Yes yes yes!” Good doggie, good doggie.
Ivan Leighton was lying in his bed with Kristine while Arild was himself wishing to do the same thing. It had been a night of pleasure so far, much better than the day that had preceded it. His mind was reeling not just from the brilliant love he had made, but also because of Martin Hart. He had certainly expected him to come back. After all, the dead cat was wandering the front yard right now.
Martin and Noodlestrop were different, yet the same. Both were now husks, dead yet living, unbreathing but their hearts were beating, it was not possible it was not possible. Ivan would have torn his hair out but he heard the familiar sound he had not heard in a while.
Thump thump.
[Stay in bed]
[Go see Hope Cole]
[Go see Hope Cole]
Very good chapter! I suspected Martin coming back ever since Scott buried him at the Semahtary. Still, it was great to see him back. Sort of back... More like it was great to see his undead body with a twisted personality back. Now that I think about it, he likely murdered Scott. Maybe it isn't that good to have him back...
[Stay in bed]
[Go see Hope]
Wondering...
Once Pet Sematary is finished, how would you guys like to see a WWII story, playing from many different perspectives? I think it sounds like fun, if you guys think it would be a fun thing to do.
If you want to do it , then do it. It´s up to you
There are any other options?
Yes plox
[Go see Hope Cole]
[Go see Hope Cole]
That sounds great, I would love to read it
I love your stories and I am certain that I would love that one as well! It sounds very interesting.
[Go see Hope Cole]
I'm so happy with what you've done with Martin, he's way better than I ever imagined him being!
Thought you guys might want to check this out.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1g-w5DV6m-erAbsianDFZPluQHnbNzWPOb1D2KStQOy8/edit?usp=sharing
Omg I can't wait for the inFamous one!
[Go see Hope Cole]
Ivan knew it was him. The filthy ghost boy was standing just outside, all covered in leaves and blood, that stupid grin all over his face. Ivan sat up in bed, the springs creaking and the wood moaning. Kristine did not move a single muscle, despite her being one of the least heavy sleepers he'd ever seen. The red-haired woman would normally bolt up at the sound of a pin drop, but not today. Now, she seemed to not stir at all. Ivan threw his covers off of himself, and stormed for the door. He quickly opened it, a look of anger mixed with despair covering his face. Hope COLE waited downstairs, smiling and waving around. The two stared at each other, the grimace still on Ivan's face and the grin still on the ghost. The young adult slowly walked down the stairs, staring at Hope Cole. Ivan could feel every step creak as he smashed into them with his feet, but he did not stop. He moved faster than he ever had. Ivan began to rush down the stairs, as Hope Cole quickly fled towards the living room, into the darkness. Ivan did not bother with clicking on the lights and maneuvering around furniture. Instead, he immediately chased the dead teenager outdoors, looking around for him.
He saw nothing but darkness. He heard nothing but the crickets chirping.
Where the fuck did you go?! Ivan wildly thought, his heart pumping and his blood pressure rising. His adrenal glands began to flow with adrenaline, and he stepped into the damp grass. Finally, Ivan spotted the figure.
He was hovering inside the dim light of a street lamp, every part of him dark except for that wicked smile. Ivan took a step forward, and squinted at the ghost. "What do you want?!" He yelled at it, and in a furious rage stomped his foot. Hope Cole continued to smiled and hover, before speaking. "You did not heed my warning, Ivan."
Ivan stared at him with crazed and delirious eyes. "What the fuck do you mean?!" Ivan screamed once again, as the ghost spoke. "Don't go beyond. Yet you went beyond. And you released him."
"Him?! You mean Martin?!" Ivan called out, and the ghost did not nod or shake his head. "No. Not Martin."
Ivan stared at the ghost one last time, as it was silent for a few moments. It was insanity, standing here and yelling at a flying corpse. You're crazy, Ivan. You're craaaaaaazzzzyyyyy. Toys in the attic, truly gone fishing. But if Ivan was crazy, he wanted the hallucinations to leave him already. "Get the fuck out of here!" Ivan screamed, as the street lamp flickered and the floating teen disappeared.
Ivan Leighton never saw Hope Cole again.
Jane Tyra sat in a rocking chair, her reading glasses perched on her wrinkly nose and a thick book in her hands. The seventy-year old woman quietly flipped a page, happily smiling to herself as her eyes flickered over the page. It was page number 218, to be exact, and she had precisely twenty-two more pages to go. She was currently reading an older novel about the Depression-era, which she herself had personally participated in. It had been a time of despair, agony, and pain, but Jane had trekked through it. She was a tough woman, having had many struggle through her time.
She moved her head and looked away from the page for a slight second, now hovering over a picture of her grandchildren. A young boy of about ten happily smiled, wearing a red and white striped t-shirt, while another boy of perhaps seventeen picked him up, a smile draped on his face. Jane herself gave a quick look at it, a soft happy face on her. She dearly missed her own children, who had moved away to South Carolina in the 80s. Jane sighed, then closed her book as she walked upstairs to get her nightgown on. Unfortunately, her foot came down on a nail, stabbing the poor woman as she fell down the stairs, breaking her neck. Martin Hart ran away from the house, eager to get rid of the next one.
Dan Wong leaned against his desk, the police office light flickering and dimming. It was a quiet night, and he was a quiet man. He had always been. Wong had come to America in 1972 with his parents, and he could still remember the thoughts he had when he saw the Statue of Liberty. He was a young boy then, only about 8, but he certainly knew that this was where he would stay once he saw the Statue. Dan had since moved around the country, finally settling down in Ludlow, although he was considering moving again.
He fixed his tie, then sat down in an office chair and stared at the police records. The folder was full of criminals, such as murderers or shoplifters or even the occasional pot dealer, but nothing particularly interesting. He rubbed his scruffy five o'clock shadow, and became distracted as the bush just outside began to shake.
Dan rubbed his eyes and stood up, checking to make sure if the bush shaking was real. When the shrubbery began to twist around a second time, he grabbed his pistol from the desk and moved out. A Colt 44. that he liked to call the Peacemaker, this pistol he had never used before but had always wanted to. He had been to a few shooting ranges before, of course, and the gun had always felt good in his hands. Dan burst through the glass doors, and ran over to the bush. He began to paw his way through the plant, the gun still wrapped tightly in his hands. But suddenly, a gloved hand grabbed his mouth and pulled him back, as the attacker pulled him up.
The Peacemaker fired two shots into the night sky as Dan’s hand was pulled back and he fired a third. The blast tore off his ear, as Wong suddenly felt deep pain his head and the gun was knocked from his hand. Dan fell on to the sidewalk, as the attacker grabbed the gun and fired the fourth shot into his left shoulder blade and then into Dan’s head. Wong’s face separated as his right eye exploded and part of his frontal lobe splattered onto the ground. Arild Sundby ran off, headed for a new house.
Terrence Red quickly scribbled something down on to a piece of paper, then stood up. He was an African-American lawyer in his forties, his wife having died of a car accident two months ago. The man dropped his reading glasses on to the desk he had just been working at, then sat at his counter and began to cry as he always did every night. He certainly missed her. Alexis Red was lying dead in a grave, after her and her husband were driving down the street one night and had been blindsided by a drunken redneck. “Why didn’t you take me...god, why didn’t you take me too?!” Terrence suddenly screamed in rage, as another sob found it’s way to him.
Terrence stood up as he walked upstairs to go to bed. He certainly missed his wife dreadfully. He had tried to kill himself twice now, only to chicken out. He didn’t want to die, did he? No, he didn’t. The older man had once tried to hang himself, breaking his arm in the process, and then attempted to overdose on pills only to vomit it back up. It appeared he was still meant for something in this world, and God was keeping him in it.
As Terrence reached his bedroom, he took a gaze of his window, noticing the curtains were flying around, the window had been shattered and a cool breeze flew in. Terrence sputtered, before he felt a hand jab into his back. Terrence instinctively kicked back, feeling his foot smash into the other man’s knee. However, it seemed as if he could feel no pain as the man grabbed Terrence’s chest and stabbed a shard of glass into his small intestine. Terrence threw a punch back and sent the man reeling, then grabbed the piece of glass still in his stomach.
The attacker suddenly ripped a lamp from a wall, the extension cord following it. The cord suddenly tightened around Terrence’s neck, who then rushed forward towards the window in a desperate attempt to escape. He flung himself out, but the cord tightened even more and Terrence was caught. He grasped his neck, hearing the wires tearing and breaking at his weight. If he could survive just a little longer he would live, he would live…
Before the cord broke however, Terrence Red suffocated and died, and his body hit the ground in a bloody and wired mess.
Randall Gerry had rushed to his basement and grabbed a shotgun as Arild Sundby chased after him. He had picked the double-barrel up and fired one shot, which flung into Arild’s shoulder, knocking him down. The next shot however caused the barrel of the gun to explode, sending shrapnel into Randall’s face and ripping apart his head.
A librarian named Sandy Terse accidentally overdosed on sleeping pills as somebody stuffed twenty into a water bottle in her fridge. She too had tried to throw up, but had fallen over in surprise, then choked on her breakfast.
Herman Szulc’s neck was broken as a door repeatedly slammed into his head when he was attacked.
Darcy Long bled out on her living room floor when a bullet passed through her abdomen.
And so on, and so on, and so on.
Most people had already left Ludlow. They themselves were not eager to be the next one dead, as the previous two weeks had laid out that there had been many. Wondering what serial killer was coming after them, the police department appeared to break apart as they all died or left as well. But one house still had it’s lights on it Ludlow, and that was the one of Ivan Leighton. The man had tried to pack desperately, but he knew something was keeping him here. He knew it.
Kristine and Brendon knew it too. As did Jeff, who had come to stay with them as the murders had been awfully close to his house. And now, as Ivan stared at his car, the hood now empty and cracked. he found himself feeling a little bit insane. Ivan flung the hood up just to make sure he was seeing straight. Yep, the engine was still gone. It became obvious that Martin had taken it. After Tina died, it was all becoming obvious. Tina had died a week ago, found dead in her home, her head dislodged from her neck. It was sad, sure, but Ivan had expected it.
He expected he was next as well.
Ivan burst into the house, where everyone walked about in a panicked frenzy. They had all already put their belongings into the car. But they had tried to start it up, and the car would not start. Noodlestrop sat in a cat carrier on the couch, probably happily laughing and grinning as the cat always did now. Well, laughing in his mind, at least. “We need a new car.” Ivan suddenly stated, and everyone looked at him. “I’ll come with you.” Brendon suddenly said, straightening up and looking at Ivan. “I’ll go too.” Jeff said, and Kristine looked at Ivan with a nod. Ivan however, shook his head. “No. One of us needs to stay behind and watch the house. I think it should be Kristine.” Ivan replied, and Kristine, puzzled, looked at him. She brought a hand to her temple and rubbed it gently, then sighed and nodded. “Fine. I’ll stay.” Ivan smiled in a form of gratitude, then looked over to Jeff and Brendon.
[Brendon, come with me. Jeff, stay here.]
[Jeff, come with me. Brendon, stay here.]
[Both of you come with me.]
What?
[Both of you come with me.]
Had a bit of a brain fuckery there. Meant it to say [Jeff, come with me. Brendon, stay here.]
What a killing spree!
[Brendon, come with me. Jeff, stay here.]
With Arild clearly being obsessed with Kristine, I could see him trying to take her out next. I feel it would be safer if she has someone to protect her and this someone shouldn't be Brendon who does not seem to be that reliable.
[Brendon, come with me. Jeff, stay here.]
Awesome Chapter!!!!
XD. What´s that about?
Also , Dead Men Walking would be like a ZA story but not in the TWD universe , right?
This Is The Forum's End will be a comedy based on This Is The End, but with you regular forumers and such. That probably won't be the final name though.
Dead Man Walking will be a story about a man wrongfully put on death row and put in prison in the 40s. Similar to The Shawshank Redemption and The Green Mile.