Go For Stories

The taser electrodes bit into the spook’s face. It let out a high-pitched squeal and spasmed with shock, half-collapsing and thrashing its arms around. screams of pain coming from the horrid creature that kneeled before Nigel drowned out the clicking noise of the taser. He was transfixed by its pain and simply stood, watching it beat at the floor and shake its head from side to side. It reached up to its face and scratched at the electrodes, tearing deep gashes into its skin, exposing the grey flesh and bone underneath. It scraped at its face, tearing the skin and leaving it to hang in flaps, never quite removing the taser’s spikes from its face.

It screamed and screamed as it collapsed into the floor; the screams getting louder and more piercing. Its shadowy cloak burst into a cloud of ash, exposing the scaly black skin underneath. It was solid and plated, like armour. Armour that didn’t protect it from the pain of its brown-green guts melting through it like acid. Giving up on the taser, the demon fumbled for its belly, determined to keep its insides in. A final, brain melting scream left its lips as it fell to the floor.

It hit hard, knocking the taser electrodes out in the process. Nigel stood still as a stone, waiting. He didn’t know if that thing could be dead, no matter how it might look. Its putrid entrails lay in a pool on the floor, sizzling like a Sunday barbecue. It didn’t smell like one, though; if Nigel had anything left in his belly he would have added it to the mix. He moved closer to the body on the floor and nudged it with his foot. It twitched.

That was enough for Nigel. He ran straight out the door and into the hall. He didn’t care about the spiny eel creature or any of its friends that it might have found to bring to the party. He didn’t care about the rotten holes in the floor or the fact that he couldn’t even be sure that he could get back to his world. He didn’t even care that he could be stuck in this hell alone, forever. What he did care about was getting away from that horrid thing on the floor before it got back up and came to eat his soul or whatever. He sprinted down the hall towards the atrium, leaping over vines and dodging chunks of ceiling. He ran.

As he ran, a sound came to him from behind. The same whistling noise that came through the air-snake’s teeth. Only this time it was louder, more furious. More … more. As in, what sounded like half a dozen of the things more.

“Did you go cry to your friends, you big, slippery fish?” he yelled back at the hall, turning his despair into anger. “Did you have a big sad and had to come get the bad man who didn’t let you eat him? Well, you can all GO FUCK YOURSELVES! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE, WITH YOUR STUPID SHITTY TEETH AND YOUR STUPID SHITTY-oof!”

He tripped on a low branch and fell headfirst into a thick knot of vines, twisting as he landed. His arms tangled. He bucked violently, struggling to free himself. The whistling neared. He yanked to free one arm, pulling it loose and scattering leaf matter. Using his free arm, he tore at the vines holding him. He groaned with the pressure, but got it free only to discover he had lost his taser.

The whistling was closer. He searched for his weapon, scrabbling through the vines. There, it had fallen through a gap and lay on the floor just out of reach. The whistling got closer. Close enough, that they must almost be on him. He thrust himself head-first into the gap, leaving his entire back exposed to attack. Scooping up the taser, he slipped backwards out of the greenery and took a look behind him.

There were indeed at least six of the creatures coming at him. They can’t have been more than a few paces away now. Together, they each seemed larger than the first. They certainly seemed angrier. And hungry.

He spun on his heels and leaped over the branches and vines, into the opening of the atrium. He had no time to look around before turning to the right and running along the balcony that still hung in the air, though not very well. The concrete had crumbled so badly in places that he could see the reinforcing mesh drooping over the open chasm. The vines twisted themselves over the atrium, flowing over the edge. In places they stretched over the open air and met in the middle.

Nigel ignored all that and sprinted for the end of the balcony, where he would find the stairwell. His only real hope was that they either wouldn’t follow him, or that he could climb stairs faster than they could float-slither up them. The whistling grew more determined behind him and he breathed heavy as he ran, pumping his legs beneath him. Pushing himself past the boundaries of his fitness to escape those creatures and, hopefully, this place.

Slipping and tripping and stumbling, he made his way to the stairwell at last. Throwing open the door, he thrust himself inside and slammed the door behind him. Without waiting to see if his pursuers had caught up, he charged up the stairs, pumping his legs like pistons and bouncing off the landing walls like a pinball in an arcade machine. Solid thumps rang through the stairwell as the slithering critters battered against the door. He tried to ignore it; a task made harder when the thumps turned to the cracking groan of splintered wood. They had made it through the door and now their whistling threat grew louder yet again.

Up and up he ran, spiralling higher and higher. He had no real plan beyond getting to his office, if it even existed in this place. Once there, he would either come up with something or he would die. Huffing and puffing, he reached his floor and barrelled out of the stairwell. His lungs burned and his head spun with fatigue. The floor seemed to rake on a steep angle and it was harder and harder to move toward potential sanctuary. He slowed and dragged himself forward on weakened legs. Spots formed before his eyes. With a last, tortured effort, he pulled himself into his office, took a moment to note the empty, decayed room … and passed out.