I write classic "good vs evil" creative writing pieces with smart twists inspired by vintage action cinema, gaming, and heavy metal.
The Graveyard Town
"Sergey Fedorovich; a homeless person who died here from a drug overdose." said a voice behind me as I crush another syringe; looking around for any signs of life. It was a long and painful journey for me as I fought off shovel-wielding denizens of this world. The briefing said that this whole landscape is made of human waste and decomposition of organic matter; makes sense considering there are tombstones decorated with crucified rat carcasses on every corner.
The radio tower must have sent some frequencies this way back in the 1960s to twist the minds of locals turning them into desperate savages eating each other. If this was the secret weapon the Polish intelligence tried to investigate during the Cold War then God help us; a man walking on all fours, taking a bullet to the head yet still clawing at me, the landscape turned into a graveyard which goes on for miles; whatever next?! What will happen to those who disagree with them?!
My Beretta 92FS seemed to be on its last few bullets as I pulled out the magazine to assess my combat efficiency; loading it back in and holstering the gun, I looked at the horizon as it looked back with its nuclear orange sunset as my nostrils got assaulted with the stench of death. It's getting dark and I can already hear howling and many voices that seem to be coming from the ground; everything was coming alive.
"That is a very ugly kid." I could hear a female voice from inside a small village hut, "Where did she find him?!" Keeping myself hidden in the shadows, I crouched and crawled under the window; continuing to listen. "Mother of God, whatever does our planet give birth to these days." The conversation was nervous and I knew it was about me; ever since I could recall living in this village, smashed windows, awkward stares and other children running away in fear was a common occurrence that happened every other week.
I was always a normal kid, I drank milk, helped out around the house and went to the lake for an afternoon swim; never harmed anything nor stood out for any wrong reason. However at night after my 19th birthday, I could hear things; not common words that I was used to such as those by my parents or my fellow villagers; these were noises that felt like radio waves I heard from my father's tape recorder. Subconsciously, I understood them and did as they said.
Every night, I would come out and study my surroundings; remembering all I saw in great detail; running to the neighboring village and doing the same. The noises would ask me about what I saw and how I got my findings. I lay in my bed at night, restless as the noises took over my mind.
"OPEN UP, YOU DIRTY WITCH!!" a female voice broke the night silence, followed by loud banging on the door, "ENOUGH IS ENOUGH, WE HAVE TO TEACH YOUR ABOMINATION RIGHT FROM WRONG!"
I am a lead pipe and brass knuckles guy and I fight on the night streets; did this ever since I got fired from the hospital I worked at. This town is going crazy with this new trend that came from nowhere; first, it was my co-workers walking off their night shifts without prior notice and now my neighbor. He'd grab me and keep gibbering about a certain something whose impending arrival would destroy us if we don't repent and dedicate our lives to it.
As more and more people gave in I realized that all of them had connections to the local healthcare industry; hospital workers of all levels from doctors to admin staff. I would then stakeout there and mostly get attacked by what could only be called zealots and mindless drones wielding syringes full of something I dread to think and long knives. I'd get away with nothing more than bruises and cuts; nothing lethal.
My opponents would not give me any answers; most were unconscious or foaming at the mouth insane; still trying to kill me. So I broke into a hospital in search of the truth; what is really eating our healthcare?! Clutching my pipe, I began to hear voices; it was a chorus of monotone voices that seemed to be in pain.
"Give it to us!"
"We are born guilty!"
It was unsettling, my skin began to crawl and my eyes began to tear up; something truly sinister was here.
© 2018 Jake Clawson