I guess I quite enjoyed writing my other horror story so I'm writing another one, especially since my other one wasn't particularly scary.
Rohkea wandered through the streets at the edge of the town. Around here, poverty was plain for all to see. Buildings were made of rusted metals, their roves merely a sheet of corrugated iron. Windows were covered with wooden shutters that banged in the wind. The paths were dirt tracks, worn into the ground by many people walking along the route. Dust coated disused areas, and cobwebs hung in every available space, large alien spiders tending to them in a way that hid their true viciousness. Toppled boxes and unneeded household items littered the paths, making them difficult to negotiate.
And yet, no-one did a thing about it, the rich people living on the other side of town completely ignoring the people so clearly in need of help. That was why no-one had answered the pleas for help when murders had begun to happen. Only in this area of town, but every night without fail, someone died, their body usually found left on the streets, though sometimes they disappeared without trace. Rohkea wondered how long it would be until the murderer broadened its hunting ground, which was why he was here right now.
Night was already setting in. The few street lights in this area of town had switched on, their harsh yellow glow illuminating the streets, or at least some of them.
Ahead of him, Rohkea saw an enormous, abandoned skeleton of a warehouse. Half the roof was missing, and the walls were covered in graffiti. The up-and-down sliding door was permanently stuck at half-open, so he crouched under it and went inside.
The entire building was a single room. It was completely empty and coated with dust. Half the room was lighter than the other half, a paltry amount of starlight coming through the missing roof. The inside walls were also covered in graffiti, but that wasn’t what he was here to see. He moved straight over to one section of wall. This section was partly covered in graffiti, but a lot of it wasn’t visible.
This was because the wall was splattered with blood.
A Gaedrongo police officer, Rohkea was the first to take an interest in the killings, so he was the first person other than the people living in the poor parts to see a body. He was completely horrified to see the body lying on the ground.
The body was that of a Salsene. It had been sliced open from neck to pelvis, and the intestines had been ripped out and stuffed into the mouth, which appeared to have been wrenched open beyond natural ability. One foot had been torn off and the eyes were both missing. Rohkea spotted them lying a few metres away with the severed foot. The heart had been bitten in half, the tooth marks still visible. Blood stained the floor and walls.
Rohkea had to force his most recent meal back down his throat. The horrible gastric sensation quickly turned to ice-cold fear as he heard a clattering behind him. He turned, but whatever had made the noise was now hidden in the shadowy corner of the warehouse.
There was the clacking sound of metal on stone, as the something prowled closer. Rohkea saw its silhouette, but not well enough to identify it. Then, raw fear took over, and he bolted for the door. There was the clacking sound as the thing gave chase. Rohkea threw himself under the door, and raced onwards. He heard the horrible grating sound of tearing metal and a large clang; the creature had gone through the door.
Breathing hard, Rohkea kept running. There was a clattering behind him, as the thing toppled everything in its path. Rohkea gave it a final push and rushed round a corner. Unfortunately, someone had recently dumped a broken steel bench onto the road, right by the corner. Rohkea tripped over it, and landed heavily.
The clacking slowed down, as the thing stopped. Though Rohkea could hear his own breath coming in short, ragged gasps, the thing didn’t even appear to be breathing hard. It didn’t appear to be breathing.
Desperate and petrified, Rohkea rolled over to get a look at his attacker before he died, for he was sure that was his fate. Even as he turned over, the streetlights went out. He could now only see a vague silhouette, but one thing was sure: it was coming for him.
Rohkea tried in vain to push away, finding nothing to grip. Something cold pricked his skin just below the neck. At first, he felt nothing. Then, a claw rushed towards his neck with astounding speed. It pierced the skin was ease, and sliced straight down to the pelvis like a knife through butter. Then came a rush of intense, unbearable pain, and he blacked out.
Giro Jaklef, the Salsene head of police in the city, had had his attention brought to the murders in the poorer city parts when a Gaedrongo police officer had gone to investigate one evening, and his body had been found on the streets next morning, maimed and cut open.
“I want a team organised to go and investigate,” Giro ordered. “Start with the warehouse and the place he was murdered. Any evidence, I want it brought back here and studied.”
“I’ll have a team organised quick as possible,” one of his inferiors promised.
Not long afterwards, a team of elite police operators were ready to begin the investigation. Representatives of the three species living in the city (Arbotiles, Gaedrongos and Salsenes) were all there.
There were the Arbotiles; Skar and Scratch, the Gaedrongos; Makt and Vrede, and the Salsenes; Quair and Blafrane. They were all armed with Enflamer Assault Rifles, and proceeded to the poorer regions where the murders were taking place.
They started at the abandoned warehouse. The door was now lying in a heap of torn scrap metal on the floor, but other than that it was the same as last night. The severed body parts of the Salsene, and the half-eaten heart, were placed in a plastic bag to be taken back for examination. There was nothing else to notice, so they moved on to the site of Rohkea’s death.
Here, they found the shattered steel bench that had cost Rohkea his life, and his remains, maimed in a similar way to that of the Salsene’s.
They were about to take samples of the body, when there was a clack-clack sound of metal on stone. Something was coming. Scared now, the police operatives formed a circle facing outwards in every direction, guns readied. Suddenly, Scratch thought he saw something. On the edge of terror, he fired straight away, emptying round after round into the air.
Bullets tore through metal and rock, but there were no life forms to hit. Skar turned to hit Scratch to stop him firing, but never made it.
Scratch’s body was whipped out from underneath him, and dragged quickly and stealthily into a nearby building. There were horrendous screams, and the others rushed in. As they entered, the screams were silenced. The house was completely shuttered; hardly any light entered, and that which did made obvious the recently disturbed dust floating through the air.
Not knowing what to expect, the group proceeded. They turned a corner, and found Scratch standing right in front of them. But it wasn’t completely him. The others screamed in terror and backed away as they took a closer look at his features.
He was hung up using some thick string, which gave the appearance he was standing, but he most certainly wasn’t. His stomach had been ripped open like the others, organs spilling onto the floor. One arm was lying on the floor in a pool of blood, bite-marks visible on the scales. One eyeball was missing, having been scraped out, and his broken teeth littered the floor.
Recovering from the fright, Blafrane stepped forwards. He felt his feet become wet, and looked down and winced as he realised he was stepping in Scratch’s blood. About a centimetre from his foot was Scratch’s lungs.
They all suddenly realised they were holding their breath, and let it go quietly, as if worried they would be heard. The raw horror of Scratch’s appearance too much for them, they backed away, and round the corner.
They whipped round to face the noise. Nothing was there. Suddenly, the noise came from behind them.
They didn’t turn round again. Petrified, they all bolted. The second they were out of the house, they split without thinking, all running down different streets. After running for a few seconds, Makt realised it was following him. This seemed to give him extra energy, and he put on a sprint, running in blind panic from the thing pursuing him.
Ahead of him rose an imposing, half-dome structure. He had reached the edge of the poor zone; if he could just get a little further, it might leave him alone...
He slipped on a sheet of cardboard left in the centre of the path. He fell face first into the dirt, knocking the wind from him. He tried with no avail to clamber back to his feet. There was a cold prick on the rear of his neck. Then, strong hands grabbed him round the throat, and squeezed, preventing him from breathing. Before long, he began to black out.
Then, the thing realised him. Makt mistook this move for pity, and rolled over to climb to his feet. As soon as he had rolled over, a claw slashed down at his throat with blinding speed, cutting him open from throat to pelvis. The cut was only half done when Makt blacked out permanently.
Hearing his terrible scream, Skar, Vrede, Quair and Blafrane rushed to Makt’s aid. By the time they arrived, the thing was gone, and his body had been cut open just like the others.
“We’ve gotta do something!” Skar said. “Or we’re all gonna die!”
“Try and calm down!” Blafrane said, though the panic was evident in his voice.
“Stay together!” Blafrane cried, “It’ll come after us if we run!”
But it was too late. Quair was already fleeing, back into the poorer parts of town. There was a blur as the thing rushed past them, and they took up pursuit, but it was already gone, after Quair.
Panicking, Quair dashed through the labyrinth of streets without anything but instinct to guide him. He heard the continuous sound of the thing clattering along after him, but didn’t stop.
All of a sudden, he felt his legs grabbed and whipped out from under him. His face smashed into the path, almost killing him outright. He was picked up and turned over, and then dropped on the floor.
Then, he became the first to see the thing that was menacing them. Unfortunately, he saw it only for a matter of seconds. Then, claws descended upon his face, tearing his eyes out and scarring the rest of his facial features. Quair was already dead by the time the thing even began to slice him upon.
But then, there was the sound of running feet from just around the corner; the others were near. The thing grabbed his intestines, ripped them out and trailed them along the ground in a bloody mess, before darting around a corner just as the others turned into the street.
The three remaining police operatives flopped to the ground in despair at the sight of Quair’s body, deliberating looking away to avoid retching.
“There’s gotta be something we can do. It’s picking us off one by one, and soon we’ll all have died!” Blafrane said despairingly.
“That’s not all,” Skar continued. “It’s working on our fear. We run, and we can’t use our weapons, so it can kill us off. If we contain our fear, then-“
“Then what?” Blafrane asked.
But Skar was no longer there. He had been kneeling, right between Blafrane and Vrede, but now he was gone.
“Where is he?” Vrede exclaimed.
Then, there came a spine-chilling scream of pure terror from a nearby rooftop, followed by the chatter of gunfire. After a few seconds, both were silenced.
Vrede and Blafrane rushed up to the roof of the nearest house. Skar’s body lay on the next roof along, and the two made the short leap across.
Skar’s gun lay broken and useless by his side. His stomach had been torn open just like all the others, guts and blood spilling out. It was a death all too similar to all the others, but for one difference. A few metres from Skar’s body were bone flakings, though it was highly unlikely they came from Skar. This would have puzzled the two left, but they were too busy looking away and trying not to regurgitate their last meal to think about it.
After a few minutes of silence, Vrede spoke.
“We need help.”
They were both too shell-shocked to speak more, and Blafrane reached for his radio more out of habit than conscious thought.
“Giro,” he panted, “We need reinforcements. Four of us are dead, all by the same creature, as far as we know.”
“You know it is a creature?”
“Sadly, we are not certain. It is very elusive.”
“Who’s left with you?”
“Keep trying. You’ll get reinforcements soon.”
Blafrane put his radio back in his suit, and only then noticed Vrede was no longer with him.
“What the hell!” he exclaimed, before rushing back to ground level to search for Vrede.
A blood-curdling shriek sounded, and Vrede ran in the direction it had come from. There were more horrific screams, and by the time Blafrane got there, the thing was already gone, the only trace it left being Vrede’s body.
His stomach had been torn open, and his three tail prongs sliced off. One tail prong had been shoved down his throat, another was embedded in one eyesocket, and the third lay on the ground entwined with his guts. His heart still dangled in his chest, held in place by one torn artery, from which blood gushed in an unstoppable river. Both eyes had been gouged out, leaving ugly gashes on his face. His lungs were torn to shreds, and all his other veins and arteries had been sliced in two, soaking his body with blood.
Perhaps worst of all, his mouth seemed to have been contorted into a demonic grin after he had been killed, which was one thing more than Blafrane could take. He turned round and sicked up his last meal, unable to hold it in any longer. It splashed down on the path, already soaked through with Vrede’s blood. Vrede’s death had undoubtedly been the most horrific so far.
Once he had vomited out all of his lunch, Blafrane began to stand up to his full height again. He had half made it, when he felt something cold prick his neck. A rush of terror suppressed any further movement, and he shivered, though not from cold.
However, when a horribly slow and agonising death did not follow, Blafrane turned round, and nearly died from a heart attack before the thing even attacked.
The thing was hanging from a street light with one arm. Looking at it, a lot of things fell into place for Blafrane, as if the pieces of a puzzle have just rearranged themselves. The abomination that hung from the street light resembled an Arbotile, but it had no scales, skin or flesh, just bone. Its claws and teeth were made of ivory, but the most terrible part was the eyes.
They glowed with a bright blue, but were somehow colourless and dull. It was an impossible creature; by rights, it should have needed muscle to move, but moved perfectly well without them. Blafrane was frozen with fear, unable to back away, run, or even draw his gun.
Ivory teeth glinted in the sunlight.
Click-clack. Click-clack. The sound of its ivory claws on stone.
Suddenly, it made a lightning-fast movement. Blafrane stared down to see his stomach ripped open. He cried out more in shock than pain, but then the creature reached forward, slicing open his heart, and he was silenced for good.
The creature tore off one arm and took a few random bites from it, before throwing it to the ground. It sliced open one lung and ripped the other out in one piece, stuffing it down Blafrane’s throat. It gouged his eyes out and dropped them in his torn-open chest, then tore out the intestines. It picked up one of the eyeballs, squeezing it absent-mindedly and causing some liquid to squirt out, before biting off the end of the intestines and stuffing the eyeball inside the remains. It then dragged them all over the street, leaving a bloody trail behind, before dropping them back by the body.
It dug its ivory claws into Blafrane’s skull, cracking the bones. It stuck its bony muzzle into the hole, and dragged out Blafrane’s brain. It clamped its jaws shut, taking a bite out of it, before dropping the brain on the ground.
Sirens sounded in the distance, and the creature bounded off, just as an elite police squadron dashed round the corner. They saw the skeletal tail drag itself round the corner of a building, and gave chase. The first one to round the corner was grabbed and dragged up to the first floor. The others arrived just after.
Suddenly, blood began to spatter on their heads. Disgusted, they looked up, and suddenly the police officer's intestines fell on top of them. This was followed by a torn lung, and the police officers fled, horrified. One bringing up the rear felt a prick in the rear of his neck, and then his left knee gave way. He turned round, and saw it had been sliced right open. He screamed in horror as he saw the creature, but no-one stopped to aid him, getting back to the cars and getting away as fast as they could.