22/10/2008, 03:00 PM
Charlie woke up in complete darkness, his head pounding, his arms and legs pinned at his sides. He panicked for a moment, not remembering where he was, but seeing a small source of light above his head. He managed to shift his arms upwards toward it. What the fuck.. a zipper? His finger pulled down the thick metal clasp, bathing him in the harsh white light beyond. It made his head pound and ache even worse. He managed to slip out of the.. "what the fuck is this?" He thought, sitting up on the thick, black canvas bag.
He then noticed a few odd things. He was riding in the back of an ambulance, the sirens wailing above him, making him cringe in pain.
He cradled his head in his hands, the dull aching starting to subside as he tried to remember what happened, but only pulling brief flashes..
A bank robbery.. that’s what it was.. fuck.. he remembered getting screwed over..
The fucking police were everywhere, his guys had left him behind.
He panicked, and fired, killing a couple cops.
They shot back.
A brief, blinding flash of light.. then.. nothing..
He then noticed that his shirt was covered in blood. "..fuck.." he thought, that designer shirt and suit had cost him a shitload of cash. He gazed up towards the two drivers curiously, wondering why they weren't checking on him. Slowly staggering to his feet, he carefully made his way up to them.
One of the drivers happened to look back, then looked back again, his eyes going wide, his lips trembling in a silent shriek of horror as he clutched the arm of driver.
"Ow.. man, what the fuck!!?.." he then saw Charlie...
The ambulance swerved, brakes skidded across the wet stretch of road as it fishtailed sideways, slamming into the sides of a couple cars as it screeched to a halt in the middle of oncoming traffic, a city bus slamming on its brakes as it was plowed from behind by the nightly traffic. After the crunch, and twisting shriek of metal, things finally settled down, and Charlie found himself on the road a short distance from it all, having been flung out of the back doors during the whole deal.
He stared blankly at the pile of cars, which were starting to smoke and burn the oil beneath them, and he suddenly felt like he needed to get away from all of this. Looking back towards the city, the moonlight reflecting off of his lifeless, pale eyes, Charlie slowly shuffled back along the stretch of highway, not exactly sure why.. but, maybe if he just got home, he could remember.. something..
The gas station attendant didn't mind his job on the lonely stretch of road leading towards the city. Shitty pay, long hours, but.. it was nice and quiet, and he always met the most interesting people at night, it seemed. He flipped through the newspaper at his counter, sipping his coffee as he glanced boredly up at the clock. The nightly business rush really should have started coming in by now, he thought.. fucking odd.
Charlie shuffled into the flickering lights of the gas station, wondering if there was a .. ..what did he need again? Fuck.. He couldn't remember shit.. maybe it was amnesia or something. He didn't really know.
Though he felt lucky that he didn't die during that crash.. or at least broken something.. come to think of it, he couldn't really feel much of anything, besides the continual pain that seemed to throb right behind his eyes..
"ff...fughh...." Charlie grunted, rubbing his left temple, now discovering that he couldn't even fudgeing talk. "Fucking perfect. What the fuck kind of.. drugs did those assholes give me?! " he thought, his hand upon the door of the gas station.
Two things happened at this very moment.
The clerk looked up from his newspaper, dropping his coffee as he let out a bloodcurdling shriek, falling backwards against the rack of smokes behind him.
And Charlie saw himself, in the reflection of the glass.
"Wh..hh...aaaghh??!!!" Charlie’s eyes widened as he found himself staring at the ragged hole where half of his lower jaw used to be. His tongue hung down past the broken, shattered pieces of bone where his gums would have been, a couple teeth still hanging from sinewy bits of string and meat. In the light of the gas station, he finally saw the dark, cratered holes where the bullets had entered his chest, taking fist sized chunks of muscle and flesh with them as they left his back.
Charlie.. suddenly became very, very pissed off.
He punched the glass, his fists slamming against the bulletproof glass in rage, shoving them open as his mind raced, and the aching in his head pulsed and throbbed like a living thing, almost blinding his vision and feeling like the worst migraine he'd ever had in his life.. and now, this kid had a gun pointed at him. You've got to be fucking kidding me.
The clerk fired his handgun at Charlie, the bullets sinking into his flesh with dull, meaningless thuds.
Charlie didn't feel a thing, but he didn't need to. No one fucking pointed a gun at him, ever. He gripped the kids wrist, squeezing it hard as the boy screamed in pain, sharp snaps of bone splintered and echoed throughout the empty store as his wrist was broken and twisted. Charlie then did something.. he couldn't explain.. but.. sounded like a good idea at the moment.. the remains of his jaw opening wide, biting down into the clerks neck. A warm, coppery flood of crimson flooded down his throat, the soft, rubbery meat seeming to pull easily from the kids neck as he messily chewed and swallowed it down his ruined maw. The aching, screaming pain in his head.. eased..
Charlie soon shuffled out of the store, not quite remembering what he'd came here for in the first place, gazing again towards the bright, neon lights of his hometown. Home. Home. That’s right.. he wanted to go home. Just.. sleep this off. It'll be better in the morning.. he thought to himself, the pain in his head was gone now, though his memory wasn't any better. Again, he made his way down the stretch of highway, the moonlight bathing the black tar of the road in a soft, inviting glow, easily guiding him along his way.
Behind him, in the gas station, the clerks' tattered, blood-soaked body lay still and silent. Then.. a sudden twitch of the fingers.. his glassy, lifeless eyes opening upwards...
(a story I found on /x/ today)
He then noticed a few odd things. He was riding in the back of an ambulance, the sirens wailing above him, making him cringe in pain.
He cradled his head in his hands, the dull aching starting to subside as he tried to remember what happened, but only pulling brief flashes..
A bank robbery.. that’s what it was.. fuck.. he remembered getting screwed over..
The fucking police were everywhere, his guys had left him behind.
He panicked, and fired, killing a couple cops.
They shot back.
A brief, blinding flash of light.. then.. nothing..
He then noticed that his shirt was covered in blood. "..fuck.." he thought, that designer shirt and suit had cost him a shitload of cash. He gazed up towards the two drivers curiously, wondering why they weren't checking on him. Slowly staggering to his feet, he carefully made his way up to them.
One of the drivers happened to look back, then looked back again, his eyes going wide, his lips trembling in a silent shriek of horror as he clutched the arm of driver.
"Ow.. man, what the fuck!!?.." he then saw Charlie...
The ambulance swerved, brakes skidded across the wet stretch of road as it fishtailed sideways, slamming into the sides of a couple cars as it screeched to a halt in the middle of oncoming traffic, a city bus slamming on its brakes as it was plowed from behind by the nightly traffic. After the crunch, and twisting shriek of metal, things finally settled down, and Charlie found himself on the road a short distance from it all, having been flung out of the back doors during the whole deal.
He stared blankly at the pile of cars, which were starting to smoke and burn the oil beneath them, and he suddenly felt like he needed to get away from all of this. Looking back towards the city, the moonlight reflecting off of his lifeless, pale eyes, Charlie slowly shuffled back along the stretch of highway, not exactly sure why.. but, maybe if he just got home, he could remember.. something..
The gas station attendant didn't mind his job on the lonely stretch of road leading towards the city. Shitty pay, long hours, but.. it was nice and quiet, and he always met the most interesting people at night, it seemed. He flipped through the newspaper at his counter, sipping his coffee as he glanced boredly up at the clock. The nightly business rush really should have started coming in by now, he thought.. fucking odd.
Charlie shuffled into the flickering lights of the gas station, wondering if there was a .. ..what did he need again? Fuck.. He couldn't remember shit.. maybe it was amnesia or something. He didn't really know.
Though he felt lucky that he didn't die during that crash.. or at least broken something.. come to think of it, he couldn't really feel much of anything, besides the continual pain that seemed to throb right behind his eyes..
"ff...fughh...." Charlie grunted, rubbing his left temple, now discovering that he couldn't even fudgeing talk. "Fucking perfect. What the fuck kind of.. drugs did those assholes give me?! " he thought, his hand upon the door of the gas station.
Two things happened at this very moment.
The clerk looked up from his newspaper, dropping his coffee as he let out a bloodcurdling shriek, falling backwards against the rack of smokes behind him.
And Charlie saw himself, in the reflection of the glass.
"Wh..hh...aaaghh??!!!" Charlie’s eyes widened as he found himself staring at the ragged hole where half of his lower jaw used to be. His tongue hung down past the broken, shattered pieces of bone where his gums would have been, a couple teeth still hanging from sinewy bits of string and meat. In the light of the gas station, he finally saw the dark, cratered holes where the bullets had entered his chest, taking fist sized chunks of muscle and flesh with them as they left his back.
Charlie.. suddenly became very, very pissed off.
He punched the glass, his fists slamming against the bulletproof glass in rage, shoving them open as his mind raced, and the aching in his head pulsed and throbbed like a living thing, almost blinding his vision and feeling like the worst migraine he'd ever had in his life.. and now, this kid had a gun pointed at him. You've got to be fucking kidding me.
The clerk fired his handgun at Charlie, the bullets sinking into his flesh with dull, meaningless thuds.
Charlie didn't feel a thing, but he didn't need to. No one fucking pointed a gun at him, ever. He gripped the kids wrist, squeezing it hard as the boy screamed in pain, sharp snaps of bone splintered and echoed throughout the empty store as his wrist was broken and twisted. Charlie then did something.. he couldn't explain.. but.. sounded like a good idea at the moment.. the remains of his jaw opening wide, biting down into the clerks neck. A warm, coppery flood of crimson flooded down his throat, the soft, rubbery meat seeming to pull easily from the kids neck as he messily chewed and swallowed it down his ruined maw. The aching, screaming pain in his head.. eased..
Charlie soon shuffled out of the store, not quite remembering what he'd came here for in the first place, gazing again towards the bright, neon lights of his hometown. Home. Home. That’s right.. he wanted to go home. Just.. sleep this off. It'll be better in the morning.. he thought to himself, the pain in his head was gone now, though his memory wasn't any better. Again, he made his way down the stretch of highway, the moonlight bathing the black tar of the road in a soft, inviting glow, easily guiding him along his way.
Behind him, in the gas station, the clerks' tattered, blood-soaked body lay still and silent. Then.. a sudden twitch of the fingers.. his glassy, lifeless eyes opening upwards...
(a story I found on /x/ today)