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#1 No-Danico

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Posted 06 February 2013 - 12:24 AM

He slowly emerged from the blissful darkness, rousing his groggy mind from what seemed like an eternal sleep. He opened his eyes, the light raked at his brain. Rolling over and pushing his face back into the pillow seemed like a good idea, away from the harsh sunlight that filled their room.
“Wake up, Nick.”
He eased an eye open and looked for the source of the words. Lucy was sitting on the side of the bed, smiling down at him. He loved that smile. It was the true light in the room, brighter than anything that the sun could bring.
“Yeah, I’m up.” He pushed himself from the bed and slid to her side. “Sorry, here we are in paradise and I’m sleeping away.”
She leaned in and kissed him, surprising Nick with the passion behind it. He caressed her cheek as she pulled away.
“What was that for?” he asked, smirking because he really didn’t care.
She shrugged a shoulder and smiled again. Her bright blue eyes shimmered in the morning sun. The light shinning striking her red hair made it look like flames burning around her shoulders. “I just wanted to.”
“Just wanted to, huh?” He hazarded a hand through the flames and grabbed the back of her head to pull her in for a second kiss. Her lips were moist, they tasted like vanilla. Nick guessed she had been using lip-gloss.
After a moment, bit his lip and pulled away. “Come on. Get up and get ready.” Lucy gave his mouth a final peck before standing and walking to a nearby dresser.
“Ready for what? Do we have plans?” He looked around, actually unsure about the room they were in. He remembered where they were, why they were there. Hawaii, their long awaited vacation. Those were easy questions. What he couldn’t recall was actually arriving on the island, checking into the hotel, falling asleep in the bed in the room with the white walls.
“Plans...” she said softly.
“Yeah, plans.” He noticed his shirt was on the floor, the black button-up dress shirt he had wore when they boarded the plane. “Like how we were gonna rent some jet skis and ride out to that reef you were telling me about. Or how about we go get some of the great fish this place is known for?”
Lucy turned and shot him a small smile. “That would have been lovely.”
“Would have been?” he said, mostly to himself. Nick fastened the last button and rose from the bed. “What do you want to do first?”
“Umm...” She pulled on a breezy shirt that barely covered her breasts. It was cool in the room, he wondered if it would be warmed outside. “I don’t know, how about we order room service and see what’s on TV?”
“That’s boring. I thought you wanted to explore the island? He looked for his pants, he had no clue where they might be. “Hey, where’s out clothes?” He looked at the dresser where Lucy stood, expecting a duffle bag of clothing to be there.
Lucy looked around, seemingly unsure. She must have not known either. “Umm...”
“Well, there’s my pants,” Nick said while pointing at the far side of the room. His kakis were balled up against the wall. “What about our stuff?”
Lucy gripped her hands together and pressed them to her chest. “I... I...” She began mumbling something that Nick couldn’t make out.
He frowned. “What happened? Lucy, you got some splainin to do,” he said. but halfway through his frown broke and a smile formed at their old joke. They both loved old TV, it was one of the things that brought them together when they first started dating. It was a happy memory, unlike the many dark things in his life before her.
She didn’t play along. Normally, that line would be met with a ‘Wahhhhh,’ but she just smiled. Not the bright one, it seemed forced and cold.
“Lucy?” He took a step towards her, stretched his hand out to her pale shoulder.
Her bright eyes widened, a look of horror drew on her face.
Nick froze, the look frightened him. It seemed so familiar to him, yet foreign on her happy face. People had looked at him like that before, but they always had a reason. A damn good reason, mind you.
No, it wasn’t him. He realized this and turned to see what she was looking at over his shoulder.
The cream colored wall at his back had turned pitch black. It bubbled, like someone had smeared boiling tar all over one side of their room. Purple fluid swirled in the middle, looking like a spinning galaxy in the tar.
A thin whip of black shot out, inches from his face. A shiver ran down his back, more ooze began moving towards the thin tentacle, thickening it to the size of a tree branch.
Nick turned, his stomach dropped. It had Lucy, wrapped around her pale throat. A second and third arm of tar zipped out and grabbed her arm and leg.
“Lucy!” Nick jumped forward and grabbed the one holding her by the neck. Sludge dripped from the arms, staining the white carpet at their feet.
She struggled, he pulled, but neither could break Lucy free. The black ooze was cold, regardless of how it bubbled on the wall. His hands drained of warmth, it felt like he was wrestling with a huge icicle.
He never saw the forth tentacle, but her felt it when it smashed into him like sledgehammer. He bounced on the bed and fell on the other side.
“Niiiiiick!” Lucy’s voice sent a spike of cold into his stomach, far more cold than the arms of tar could ever be. He recognized the tone, the desperation, the fear, the touch of hope beneath it all. He had hear countless people with the same tone call out just as many names in his time.
He scrambled up in time to see his love dragged into the bubbling pitch. The arm around her neck had thickened, cutting her cries off as it covered her mouth.
He leapt across the corner of the bed and ran to grab her outstretched arm. He was too late, it was the last thing pulled into the black. The goop disappeared just as he slammed into the wall.
He fell on his ass and sat there for a series of heartbeats, completely dumfound by what had just happened. The wall was completely white, as if nothing had happened.
“Lucy?” he said, his voice numb and cold.
“She’s gone, pup.”
Nick jumped up as the gravely voice assaulted his ears. The sound was like a dagger in his mind, low and garbled and raw all at the same time. A hideous sound that shouldn’t be possible with vocal cords.
A man sat on his bed. Man is an inaccurate term, but as close to what I am for what it matters.
He looked at me with the scowl of a warrior, but his eyes gave him away. They were the worried eyes of someone who had just lost something, something precious, the kind of thing you’d sell you soul to get back. He was in unfamiliar territory, and that was a damn dangerous place to be.
After a minute, he found his voice. “What was that?”
“A ghost, restless spirit, malicious soul, a demon in the making.” I tugged on the sleeve of my suit. It was a fine black two piece number with a blood red tie. Don’t let anyone ever tell you different, black is classic. And if you accent it with red, it comes off vicious and smooth. Plus, most stains won’t show.
“Bullshit.” His eyes didn’t leave a part of my body as he spoke. That kid had instincts, he knew danger when he smelled it.
“Nope. That was a monster. It took your girl and left you alone.” I rose from the bed. “Now, I can help you get her back, if you’re willing.”
Nick crossed his arms. This was more familiar territory. He gave the response his kind always give when offered anything. “What’s in it for you?”
I gave him a grin, wide and toothy and showed off my bright-white smile. “My job. You’ll just be doin’ my job.” I gestured around the room. “This place is for vacations, right? I wouldn’t mind one. You do my job, and get your girl back in the process.”
His mouth tugged into a deeper frown. “That’s... fine.” He bent down, still in his underwear. “Let me put on my pants.”

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#2 Diabolical_Jazz

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Posted 06 February 2013 - 01:05 PM

I solemnly vow that I shall read the hell out of this when I get home.
I haven't been home since this got posted.
I don't think he needs to be immortal. I think all he needs to do is to write the right story. Because some stories do live forever.

#3 Diabolical_Jazz

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Posted 06 February 2013 - 06:12 PM

Woah. 0___0

That was rather exciting. I assume there's more to it?
I don't think he needs to be immortal. I think all he needs to do is to write the right story. Because some stories do live forever.

#4 No-Danico

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Posted 06 February 2013 - 09:26 PM

Yeah, probably should have put something explaining it a bit. Part one of a story I started working on yesterday. Monday, while watching a friend play Luigi's Mansion and listening to Hotel California, I got the idea for it.

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#5 DaRatmastah

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Posted 07 February 2013 - 12:15 AM

You can check out any time you like...but you can never leaaaave!

I dig it. Good start, dude, I want more. Though the perspective switch when it game to the dude on the bed kind of threw me for a second.

#6 Diabolical_Jazz

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Posted 07 February 2013 - 08:15 AM

Well awesome. I would love to read more.

I feel bad because I can't think of any criticism. XD
I don't think he needs to be immortal. I think all he needs to do is to write the right story. Because some stories do live forever.

#7 Affray

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Posted 07 February 2013 - 08:17 PM

The perspective switch also threw me off for a second, but it fixed itself in my head fairly quickly.
Though perhaps some creative spacing, or a more distinct change in vocabulary would make that changeover more obvious.

It is perfectly acceptable to fear and admire a being you could not possibly understand.


#8 Diabolical_Jazz

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Posted 07 February 2013 - 09:04 PM

I liked the perspective change, honestly.
It was appropriately creepy.

I mean like... here I was, thinking that I was the only fly on the wall in this scene, when I realize that there's someone else watching everything. AND he is the one telling the story. Which means he's aware of me. Probably the strongest aspect of the whole piece. So I liked that it was jarring for just a moment, because that warranted a little bit of attention.
I don't think he needs to be immortal. I think all he needs to do is to write the right story. Because some stories do live forever.

#9 No-Danico

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Posted 08 February 2013 - 12:27 AM

^^ This. When I'm just writing for myself, I like using first-person narrative, (I blame Rothfuss) but this one will be a more omniscient. I’m playing with the style, seeing if I can pull it off.

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#10 No-Danico

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Posted 08 February 2013 - 09:09 PM

Part two:

Nick slipped on his belt and looked me over. His kind are all the same, never trusting, and never happy. His eyes flickered down to my hands, looked my fingers over. You can tall a lot about a man by his hands, I wonder what Nick thought about me?
Not that I have to wonder.
“I’m on the level, Nick.” I lifted my hand and gave him a peace sign.
“I believe you,” he lied. “How do I get Lucy back?”
I smiled and walked over to the mini fridge beside the bed. You know the kind, stocked with cookies and wine that cost five times as much as you could buy them in a store. I knelt down and began inspecting the insides. “Lucy is probably in the basement. That type of phantom likes the cold, and it’s too damn hot outside.” I picked out a Snickers and Pepsi and stood. “I doubt you’ll find em’ loungin’ on the shore.”
He crossed his arms and shifted his weight to the left. “The basement, huh? And how in the hell am I supposed to get her back?”
I’ll admit, the heat in his voice surprised me a bit. I figured he’d take the weirdness in stride, ‘Alright, I’m on it,’ and be off.
“Ahh, that’s the rub. How do you fight a ghost?” I moved the Snickers to the hand holding my can and bent back down to the mini fridge. I rose with a black iron-wrought lantern. “Here. You can use this to bring it back to me.”
“Bring it back?” He stepped forward to take the lantern I offered him. “I’m not going to kill it?”
I let the handle fall into his palm. “How do you kill the dead? Holy water? No, the soul must be brought for purification.” I turned to sit down on the bed.
From behind my back, he glanced into the fridge, curious like a cat. “So, this thing can capture it?”
“Yes. And be careful with it, I’ve had it since shoes were a new idea.” The Snickers was good, probably worth the eight bucks a hotel would charge for it. I washed it down with the soda while Nick inspected the lantern.
“How do I use it?” He fiddled with the little knob that moved the wick up and down.
“It’ll do everything on its own. You just need to beat the ghost up a little.” I reached under the pillow and pulled out a glass bottle filled with a thick, pink liquid. “You’ll need to rub some of this on those mitts of yours first.”
He took the bottle and frowned down at it, then the pillow, then the wide smirk I was shooting him. Nick sighed and set the lantern down on the dresser so he could pop the cork of the bottle. He sniffed it, recoiled from the smell, and quickly plugged it back up. “What is this shit?”
“Mollified ectoplasm. Trust me, that stuff will burn the phantom up as soon as it touches him.” I drained the can and tossed it on the floor. I doubt the hotel staff would mind a little mess.
“Does it have to be my hands?” he asked. “Can I cover a baseball bat with it or something?”
“If you want to, pansy. The smell ain’t that bad.” I laced my fingers behind my head and laid back. “Get to work. Your girl ain’t gonna save herself.”
He gave me a scowl, stared to say something, but shut his mouth and picked up the lantern. “The basement, right. How do I get there?”
I sighed, he was like a helpless puppy. “The elevator in the hall’ll have a series of buttons. You look for the one that has this on it,” I traced a B with my finger in the air, “press that one and you’ll magically drop down. Don’t be scared, the elevator is tied up good, you won’t fall to your death or nothin’.”
I don’t think Nick liked being talked to like a particularly thick-witted child. He scowled some more hate at me and walked out of the room without another word.
“Good luck, pup,” I cried after him.
He slammed the door in response.
Nick made his way down the hallway to the elevator. “Fuckin...” he mumbled as he stood and waited for it to reach his floor.
Ding. He stepped inside and hit the button for B1, guessing it was the first basement floor and not the other two. “Lucy, wait for me.”
The elevator dropped thirty floors in an instant, churning his stomach up further. He was all out of sorts after having Lucy ripped away from him by the gæst. Me showin’ up didn’t help. I know, I know, I could’ve been more gentle, maybe explained things a little better. He’d been through a lot in a short amount of time. I should have been nicer.
But where’s the gawdamn fun in that?
The door slid open and he stepped out, clutching the bottle for all he was worth. His gaze drifted around, expecting a monster to jump out at him from the dark corridor at any moment.
I think the lantern snapping to life startled him more than the first ghost. He actually gave a little “Wah!” and almost dropped the items I’d given him. He’s damn lucky he didn’t. I’m forgiving and all, but I’ve had that light since I started this job.
Light flooded the hall, casting the dark away and trailing wicked shadows from everything it touched. It was a tight little room, maybe eight tall and just wide enough for Nick to stretch his arms out.
He cursed at the lantern, then me, like I did it on purpose. Well, I did, but he had no proof of it. Holding the lantern up, Nick creped forward, warily glancing about, ringing in his ears making it hard to hear anything beyond his shallow breath.
He almost tripped over a mop and bucket left by a careless janitor. He gave it a quick, “Fuck you,” and looked around, subconsciously worried that someone was watching and laughing at him while eating a Snickers.
The glint of an old metal locker caught his eye, he sat my lantern down on a nearby wooden table to check it out. He pulled, but the handle was rusted shut. He grabbed with his other hand and found it full, still holding the bottle. He put it on the table, a little ashamed that he had forgotten it, and yanked on the handle with all of his might.
It wouldn’t budge. “Fucker...” he whispered before looking around for something to bash it with. “Heh.” Nick reached down and picked up a crowbar that leaned against the table leg. He jammed the end into the crack and with very little effort pried the door open.
The hinges were ancient, the door slipped right off and clanged against the floor, knocking a toolbox off of a shelf and kicking up a cloud of dust on the way.
The locker was mostly empty, no baseball bat for him to coat in the pink goo. He actually expected to find one, or a pipe, or a giant wrench.
He clicked his tongue, mildly disappointed, and looked down at the crowbar in his hand. The heavy lump of metal that would be perfect for smashing. I know, but it took him about ten seconds to actually think about using it instead.
He wrapped a roll of black electrical tape around the slightly twisted handle, creating a makeshift handle to protect his dainty hands, the pansy. He then uncorked the glass bottle and poured a dollop onto the curved end of the crowbar. It did smell like shit, I’ll admit, but he scrunched up his nose in disgust as he smeared it along the length of iron.
Nick corked the bottle and slipped it into a cargo pocket on the side of his pants. He hefted the crowbar and held the lantern in his left, gave a sigh, and continued down his dark path.

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#11 Diabolical_Jazz

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Posted 09 February 2013 - 07:03 AM

Hell yeah part two!

At this point, I'm kinda wondering if the pace is a little fast, but I suppose that depends on how long completed piece will be.
Also, I'm pretty sure the narrator is the devil. 0__0
I don't think he needs to be immortal. I think all he needs to do is to write the right story. Because some stories do live forever.

#12 No-Danico

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Posted 09 February 2013 - 03:04 PM

It's a short piece, I have a bunch of ideas that wouldn't be full novels, but would work well as short, condensed stories.

P. 3

The door at the end of the hall was a thick metal beast with a rusty doorknob. Nick threw a shoulder against it and pushed, slowly inching it open. A shrill squeak splintered the deafening silence, ruining any prayer of sneaking he might’ve had.
His knuckles cracked as he squeezed the crowbar, jaw popped as he gritted his teeth, legs tensed as he got ready to run from any black tentacles stretching towards him from the dark.
He slowly looked around the room, it was much more open than the little hallway, the light from the lantern didn’t come close to touching the wall. A musky stench clawed at his nose, watering his eyes and clogging his throat. Like the smell of a wet dog, if it had fell into a river, drowned, and washed up on the bank of a garbage dump.
Nick felt the desperate need to cover his nose, but clung to the crowbar and lantern for dear life. As much as the room might smell like wet shit, he had been told a monster was in there, one that had kidnapped his girlfriend. He’d need the light to see it, the crowbar to bash when he found it.
After a few heartbeats, he relaxed a little, the moment had settled and left the room a little more comfortable. It’s like wading into a cold lake, not pleasant, not something you enjoy, but you can get used to it. Not that smell, I mean, who the hell could get used to that? But the adrenalin in his blood had kicked in, readying him for trouble.
After a few deep breaths of rancid air, he took a cautious step into the room, leading with his heel and slowly setting the toe of his shoe afterwards, like it would matter at all. The phantom already knew he was there, knew he was in its den.
Nick crept to the wall on his right, keeping his back to it as he inched along to the first corner. Twenty-two steps to the next wall, about fifty six feet, he guessed. He touched the wall with the crowbar, the feeling it game him strengthened his will a little, then he continued along to the next corner.
About six steps in, a low growl made him whip his head to the left. Nick searched the blank blackness for anything, any indication of where it might be, where Lucy might be.
A second throaty growl, closer, made him take a step away. A third, louder, then another step. A fourth, almost laughter, two quick steps.
The slapping of meat against the concrete floor lasted for only a second before it came into the light. Nick didn’t get more than a flash before it slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. The crowbar clattered from his hand. The lantern rolled away, a strobe light as the iron bands spun around the source.
It was cold, he couldn’t come up with a better word, just cold. Like there was a hole in the universe where heat just couldn’t touch. It was humanlike, a purplish black, completely nude and hairless. Thin, wiry arms grabbed at his face, almost as if it was trying to scratch him. But It didn’t have claws, or even fingernails, just wrinkly hands, as if it had sat in a bathtub for too long.
Nick pushed it away by the throat, it snapped at the air impotently. It had powerful jaws, but its mouth was empty. He pulled his leg up and kicked it off of him. It was deceptively light for it’s size, like its skin was just thin leather, muscles were merely water.
It flopped back, rolling and coughing like it had a bone stuck in its throat.
The crowbar was just a few feet away, Nick flipped to his stomach and scrambled to grab it. He wrapped his fingers around the cold metal just as the thing hugged him, pulling at his shirt and biting at his shoulder.
Nick got an arm up, jabbing his elbow into throat. It was squishy, like a partially filled water balloon. Its yellow eyes looked at him, desperate for something. Nick couldn’t began to guess the reason.
He kicked it a second time, its chest felt like a waterbed.
It bounced once, landed on its back, and began crabwalking in circles,
He rose to his feet and watched dumbly as it wandered around on its hands and feet. It stopped, blinked at him like it had forgotten about the fight. After a moment of silent staring, the phantom dropped its mouth, looking like a snake unhinging its jaw, and gave him a long, drawn-out croak. It rose up like a cobra doing a serpentine dance to a flute, fluid and boneless, upright and then past, hunching over and dangling its arms.
Nick’d had enough, he jumped forward and slammed the curved head of the crowbar against the beast, catching it on the bicep of its left arm.
For a heartbeat, he worried he missed. It felt like he swung through air. But the pink goo was doing its trick, evaporating the ghost and sundering the arm from the body.
The phantom looked down, blinking at its stub, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
Nick knew, he tackled the monster to the ground. He raised the crowbar and brought it down against the ghost’s forehead. Purple wisps escaped as the skull dissolved, leaving only sticky purple stains on the floor beneath.
He kept smashing until he hit concrete, the jarring shock numbed his hands. Nick dropped the crowbar and stepped found his feet, standing and stepping away from the ghost.
Its form beaten, it began melting like a sugar cube in steaming hot coffee. Black blood oozed from its pores, mixing with the melting skin and forming something like a pile of grape jelly.
It was the last he saw of it. From behind, the light from the lantern flickered out, throwing the world into darkness. Nick’s labored breathing was the only sound for a half-minute, then a buzzing began, like a band saw set to low. The lantern flickered back to life, much brighter than before.
The goop on the ground floated at eye level, a congealed ball about the size of a watermelon. It slowly floated towards Nick. He backpedaled away, but it wasn’t him it was after, it was at the lamp that was pulling it.
The ectoplasm moved to the lamp lying on the floor. It clung to it, seeping into whatever crack it could find. After a moment the only proof that the ghost had been there at all was a stain on the concrete and a slight purple tint to the flame of the lamp.
Nick stood, unsure of what had happened. Unsure of anything, doubting his own sanity for going along with the madness, and worse, that it had been real. The ghost had been where I had told him. And so...
“Lucy,” he managed through shallow pants, remembering why he was there in the first place. He stumbled over to the lantern and crouched down to look at it. The wick was defiantly purple, he guessed that was where the ghost went. Nick tentatively reached out and touched the lamp, it seemed colder, like what little heat had been built up was drained when it absorbed the monster.
‘I don’t have time for this,’ he thought. Nick grabbed the handle and lifted the lamp, ready to search for his amore.
He looked around, the room was just as dark as before. “Lucy?!” He held the crowbar at his side, the lamp, high above his head as he walked around the room.
She wasn’t there. “Shit, he lied.”
Nick kept searching for another twenty minutes, then decided to come back to their room. It took another ten minutes for him to find the door out. The room was large, but Nick didn’t immediately think to follow the wall. The dummy.
He walked through the hall to the elevator and headed back up to the room.

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#13 Diabolical_Jazz

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Posted 10 February 2013 - 01:22 PM

Alright, I'm in suspense already! Jeez! :P
I don't think he needs to be immortal. I think all he needs to do is to write the right story. Because some stories do live forever.

#14 No-Danico

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Posted 12 February 2013 - 08:26 PM

Pt 4 (I feel like I'm the only one using this board)

Nick was steaming when he kicked open the door. “Where the fuck is Lucy?”
I slowly slid to the side of the bed. “Not with him, huh? Figures...”
“Do you even know where she went? It was there, but she wasn’t.” He accented each word with a jab of the crowbar.
“It just wasn’t the right spook.” I held my hand out. “May I have the lantern?”
He clenched his jaw and looked me up and down. “Where. Is. Lucy?”
I quickly closed my hand and opened it. “We’ll find her. Let me switch that out for you.”
He grumbled and looked away, but handed the lamp over.
I took it with a gracious smile, “Thank you,” and walked back to the mini fridge.
Nick sat down in a wicker chair in the corner. He watched me carefully as I bend down and opened up the fridge, like a rabbit watching a wolf. “What exactly was that thing?”
“You mean to ask, what is it?” I waved my free hand at it. “This is the wretched soul of a man who couldn’t let go of his greed. But in death, it was never hungry. Never had any wants or needs. It was a young ghost, as these things go. Still had a human-like appearance. Fresh souls still seem human. It might not even know it’s dead.”
I looked at the spirit for a second, maybe a little pity leaked into my expression because Nick asked, “What is that look for?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head and looked away. Pity for the dead is useless. “Nothing at all.”
Nick let the subject drop. He sat quietly as I placed the lamp in the fridge and then pulled it back out. “Here you are. The next phantom is waiting on the shore of the beach. Follow the wooden trail to the right as you leave the hotel.” I walked over to him and offered it.
He looked at the lamp, interested in what I had done. But he didn’t ask and I didn’t explain. “Is Lucy there?”
I shook the lamp, urging him to take it. “Watch out for this one, it’s violent.”
“And the other wasn’t? It tried to bite me, but it didn’t have any teeth.”
“It was young, so of course it didn’t have no teeth. Didn’t have claws neither.” The lantern got a final impatient shake. “You might wanna re-apply the mollified ectoplasm, get a fresh coat on your tool there.” After he took the lamp from me, I turned and dropped back on the bed. “I have more if you run out. Good luck, pup.”
Nick pushed his body from the chair and left without so much as a thank you.
He hit the 1F button on the elevator and walked out. He marched through the empty lobby and out the glass double doors. The bright light blinded him, he raised an arm to shield his eyes from the bright sun. The scent of the sea that filled his nostrils must have made him feel like he was in heaven, after being in the dank basement for so long.
The little pathway wasn’t hard to follow. It cut through a grove of palm trees, all heavy with coconuts. Nick clomped along, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air just a little bit. Lucy’s fate was heavy on his mind. He had been sure she would have been in the basement, and was really distrusting me for leading him astray.
The pure white sand on the beach made the day much more brighter. The sparkling blue water reflected the sun prettily. Deep down, Nick wished Lucy could have been there to see it, if only for that reason alone.
It wasn’t hard for him to spot the ghost as it laid upon the shore. She was still in a humanish form, and what a form it was. All curvy and bouncy. Except for the extra pair of arms, those seemed strange to Nick.
Her skin was purple like the greed phantom’s, but closer to a light violet. Her hair was long and black, it flared around her body as she writhe din the sand.
Well, she was, hmm. Without getting too graphic, let me say this, her great sin in life was lust. So she was trying in vain to satisfy insatiable urges with all four of her arms.
The sight made Nick blush, she might have been a monster, but she was so very pretty, grabbin’ and rubbin’ and gyrating and whatnot.
The dummy should have snuck up on her while she was busy, but instead he coughed to get her attention. The form doesn’t matter, she was still a dangerous monster.
She turned towards the sound and opened her eyes, they were completely red, she had no pupils or irises. She let out a loud sigh and stood, giving herself a squeeze as she rose from the sand. Her hips and butt was covered in the white stuff, no, I mean the sand. Shut up.
“Why, hello there. Have you come to help me out?”
Nick hadn’t been expecting anything like this. He had figured something would pump him as soon as he got to the beach and try to take a nibble or two.
Well...okay. Maybe that was exactly was happened, jumping him and nibbling, but in a much more violent manner. Nick was used to violence in his life, it was something he was comfortable with, but it wasn’t a monster that stood before him. It wasn’t one of the men that deserved the twisted justice he dispensed. He had a few simple rules in his life, ‘no women, no children,’ he never hurt women or children. The man was violent, but violent with a strange honor. One part Cro-Magnon, two part courtly manners.
The lust spirit wouldn’t give him a choice. She panted while sashaying towards him, moving her four hands up her body, tantalizingly seductive in her movements.
Nick was flustered, but far from seduced. Lucy was still on his mind, he was the faithful type. But he couldn’t just bash her, she was still a woman, sort of.
“I just, can’t, reach...” she said in all but a purr.
He wasn’t retreating fast enough, taking one step back for every two sultry struts she took. Lust was less than three feet away when she reached out for him with two of her arms, offering what I’m sure would have been a loving embrace.
“Wha-” Nick was caught off guard as she grabbed him and effortlessly tossed him over her shoulder. He bounced off of the sand and into the ocean. The salty water burned as he took a surprised nostril full.
He broke the surface of the water and stood, the crowbar still held tight in his hand. He blinked down at his left, the lamp was gone.
Lust held it out in front of her face, giving it a quizzical look. She seemed to realize what it was when she scrunched up her pretty face and lobbed it into the thicket of palm trees. “Ahhhhg! You, you came for this? Not for me?” She hugged herself tightly as she crouched in the sand, looking like someone had just shot her in the gut. “No, come for me.” She looked up at Nick, red eyes white hot in her face. “Come for me!!!”
She rushed forward, bouncing with the effort. She splashed into the water and hooked a punch at Nick.
He ducked and bobbed as she threw blow after blow. The whole thing was awkward with four arms, they usually just got in the way.
The splashed around in the water, Lust trying her hardest to smash Nick, while he tried to bring himself to fight back.
She managed to grab him by the collar and hurl him back onto the shore. He landed face-first, sat up, and spit out a mouthful of sand. “Alright, bitch. That’s it.” Nick rose to his feet and readied himself for her next volley of punches.
He didn’t have to wait, she was on him in less than a second. He ducked the first haymaker and caught her on the collarbone with the crowbar.
It bounced off like she was made of rubber. The force did send an interesting jiggle through her flesh, I doubt Nick noticed, but I did. He was a little busy being shocked. The last ghost had dissolved when the crowbar touched him, Nick though, why isn’t she?
He looked down and knew, the goop was gone, washed away by his quick dip in the sea.
“Shit,” he mumbled.
“Shit,” she moaned, weirdly aroused. No, I guess when you’re an undead being filled with ghostly libido, it’s probably not that weird to be into that.
The glass bottle of mollified ectoplasm was in his pant’s pocket, he didn’t have time to uncork it and rub some on, but an idea immediately struck him. He pulled the bottle out, jumped forward, and smashed it against the phantom’s silk covered head.
It bounced off like the crowbar did. Nick took a step back, expecting Lust to be pissed.
She wasn’t, in fact, she looked more aroused than when she had been pawing at herself in the sand.
The crowbar couldn’t hurt her, the bottle couldn’t, he didn’t know what to do.
Lust had apparently decided to force herself on him, she threw him in a tight hug and dragged him to the ground. She kissing him about the neck and cheeks
as they rolled on the shore, the sun shinning, the sea sparkling. It would have been romantic is she hadn’t been a demonic spirit of lust would drain him dry and leave him in the sand.
He managed to end up on to, although it might have been intentional on her part. Lust clawed at the sand beneath her, excited and expectant, guessing he had decided to go along with the flow.
Nick straddled her, held the bottle against her chest and brought the crowbar down on the glass, shattering it and covering her in stinky goop.
No, not like that!
He scrambled off and crawled away, leaving his crowbar a few feet away.
The stuff went to work, dissolving her form and leaving clumps of purple-stained sand beneath. She moaned as her torso bubbled and popped, dissolving away. The ectoplasm began eating her arms and neck. The wailing stopped as her jaw liquefied.
Nick met her gaze, her eyes had turned blue. He was surprised by the look of peace and sanity she had as her pretty face melted away.
He sat there for a moment, the only sounds, his quick breathing and the splashing of the waves. After a moment he decided to find the lamp so it could work it’s magic. Nick stood and sighed, missing Lucy more than ever.

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My first novel, Seeds of Magic- Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, Kobo, Sony Store


 


#15 Diabolical_Jazz

Diabolical_Jazz

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Posted 21 February 2013 - 01:07 PM

Sorry it took me so long to get around to reading this part. <__<
It was good! Surprisingly funny, for such a dark story. ^__^

And you may have thought I'd miss that bit about who/what Nick is, but I didn't!
I don't think he needs to be immortal. I think all he needs to do is to write the right story. Because some stories do live forever.