The Damned Thing

The Damned Thing

I
One Does Not Always Trust What is Written in Blood

Detective Robert Jones had decided he hated morgues the first time he ever stepped foot in one. The cold air sent shivers throughout his body, and the dim, flickering lighting allowed the shadows to taunt him as they vanished and reappeared. Sometimes, as was the case presently, a body lay on the blood-stained table in the center of the room. Despite this, it was the rows of steel doors that terrified him the most, with their silent secrets concealed within. One too many horror movies always made the normally suave detective uneasy whenever he had to visit this dreary place.
Jones’ gaze fell on the cold body before him. The man’s face looked so calm and peaceful that he could have been sleeping, if not for the gaping tear in his throat, and the strange message scrawled in blood across his chest. John Marcus, the chief of police, was once again speaking, drawing Jones’ attention back from the naked corpse on the table.
“What did the autopsy reveal Horris?” The chief addressed a diminutive man with skin the color of printer paper. As far as Jones knew, the beady-eyed coroner hadn’t left the morgue since being appointed there decades previously.
A broad smile sprouted enthusiastically across the ancient face as he laughed in a wheezy voice, “Haha! This one tried to trick me, he did.” Horris turned, now addressing the corpse. “Thought you could pull the wool over me eyes, didn’t cha? But old Horris is cleverer than you!” Horris began dancing around wildly, giggling and spinning his arms with delight.
The chief seemed prepared to wait for this outburst to stop. Jones, on the other hand, was not so patient. Two quick strides placed him directly in front of the ludicrous coroner. With a firm hand on Horris’ shoulder, Jones stopped him from spinning and looked straight into his eyes.
“What did you find,” Jones said, enunciated each word slowly and carefully.
The coroner, still smiling, emitted a shout of delight and scurried over to the corpse. “This,” he said, pointing to the slashed throat, “is not what killed him!” Suddenly Horris burst into laughter, collapsing to the floor and rolling side-to-side while clutching his sides. Jones shuddered. The coroner’s sense of humor had always unnerved the detective.
Jones decided he had had enough. In one swift motion he hefted the still chuckling doctor from the floor, pinning him to a column of steel doors.
“If that didn’t kill him, what did?”
“His heart… it’s gone!”
Jones released his grip, stepping backwards in shock. “Gone,” he gasped, “but how?”
“I haven’t the slightest clue!” announcing this seemed to delight the coroner. “There are no wounds or incisions, it is just gone. Poof!” Horris made a cryptic gesture with his hand before he was overcome by laughter once more.
Jones glanced up at the police chief, and saw the horrified look on his face reciprocated on his superior’s. Horris may be as mad as they come, but his word could be trusted. If that old fool said that the heart was missing, then missing it was.
“So the throat was slashed to get blood for the message?” Jones looked to the chief as he spoke.
“It seems that way,” the chief replied, “speaking of that message though, do you have it recorded?”
Jones nodded and produced a small pad from a jacket pocket. He began to read.


II
What May Happen When Followed by Death

This man’s death was set; nothing could have stopped it. He was next on the list, and once you’re on the list nothing can save you.
As soon as I discovered his identity I rushed to find him. I searched everywhere for this man, and to my delight I was successful. I found him first, so there was still some time.
For a while I followed him at a distance. I studied him, made note of his habits, but it wasn’t long before he noticed my presence. It was his dog that gave it away. That giant husky could smell trouble a mile away. I believe it sensed my intentions, and it growled and whined if I ever got too close, putting his master on alert.
I was determined to give this man as much time as possible before I completed my task, but it seemed that what time he had left was running out. He began setting traps for me, trying to catch me as I wandered trailed behind him discreetly. My footprints began to appear all around the grounds of the cabin in which he lived. Every day I heard him swear angrily as he inspected the most recent set of prints with shotgun in hand.
Soon the voices started. I knew because of the screams that tore into the night in that generally isolated and quite area. Strange behavior began too; sometimes he would spend all day sitting on the stump outside his house, staring at the knife poised over his chest. There wasn’t much time left.
Then one day I knew the end had come. It was the middle of the night and I had been sleeping curled up near the house. The man didn’t sleep much anymore. He spent most waking hours searching for me, for by now he was convinced some great creature was stalking him. He was right too, if I do say so myself.
That night he walked out of the house much later than was typical. He carried no weapon, but looked straight a head and marched to a small hillock. Once there he gazed upward at the moon. Suddenly he seemed to snap back to reality, looking around quickly. No doubt he was wondering why he was outside in nothing but his Mickey Mouse boxers.
He turned back to his house and yelled in surprise when he saw the name scrawled in blood there. I looked too and memorized it quickly. The next name on the list always appears right at the end of the previous one’s life.
I knew I had no choice then. There was only one way left to protect this man, so I took it. He heard my approach, and I was glad to see the fear in his face replaced with acceptance. In an instant I held his heart in my jaws.


III
A Man Though Bloody May Not Bleed

Jones looked up at from message. The room would have been silent if not for the cackling of the deranged coroner.
“Could the killer really have written this?” Jones whispered, still horrified over the possibilities. The chief was gazing across the room, deep in thought. Jones noticed in his hand a video camera, which the detective had not seen before. “Sir?” The chief snapped back, looking straight at Jones with a concluded look on his face. The video camera quickly disappeared into his pocket.
“Sorry I was distracted. What were you saying? Right, right, the killer. It seems the only explanation. This man lived far away in the woods in an area rarely used by hunters.”
“The throat was slashed perhaps only moments after the heart was removed.” Horris had momentarily stopped his giggling, but his face contorted as he collapsed in hysteria once more.
“That proves it,” Jones put in. “It must have been written by the killer. “What’s on the videotape boss?”
Chief Marcus hesitated for an instant then replied, “this camera was found on the victim. It seems he recorded his last hours and some time before that, but the files were corrupted. Little was discernable save the time stamps on each clip.”
Jones sighed. Things never seemed simple anymore, but he knew there was one chance. Never in his life had Jones seen the chief hesitate. Something was not right.
“Let’s get out of this place for now,” Jones said as he turned hopefully to the exit. “Crazy over there doesn’t need our help. We’re just slowing him down.”
The chief nodded and the two men quickly climbed the stairs, escaping the horrific room. As they climbed Jones noticed the chief seemed absorbed in thought once more. Suddenly he bumped into Marcus, uttering a hasty apology as they reached the top of the stairs.
Some hours later, Jones arrived home. With fumbling fingers he removed the camera he had snatched from the chief’s pocket and connected it to his TV screen. He held down the rewind button until he reached the beginning of the film. It was definitely not destroyed.


IV
The Desperation Before the Tomb

The camera caught flashes of the inside of the cabin, as the dead man yelled almost hysterically at it. His quavering arms offered no stability for the camera and his face kept popping in and out of the frame.
“The voices,” he yelled, “they won’t leave! They are starting to take over! Last night I found the prints again; I think this is the creature’s doing. Look I’ll show you! I’ll prove I’m not mad!”
Suddenly the camera began bouncing around as the man from the cabin. Nothing distinct could be made out until the camera settled moments later on compression in the ground. The camera waved back and forth, revealing a trail of these strange prints across his yard.
“See?” he shouted excitedly, “I’m not crazy! The prints are real, and so is the voice! My hunting dog noticed it first! He started growling the day the prints first appeared. He’s been growling at something every day since.” The clip ended and the next one started.
This time the man was crying, a look of mixed frustration and terror on his face.
“It won’t stop,” his screams were interspaced between heavy sobs. “There is nothing I can do! It tells me to kill them, the townsfolk. It says to bring down my gun and kill them all. I can’t, I won’t! I’m no killer!”
He suddenly clutched his head, wailing loudly, “Get out! I won’t do it!” A knife had appeared in his hand, and hovered inches from his heart. “Let me do it! Why won’t you let me end it? I just want to die!”
The screen went blank once more, and a slightly more calm face appeared on the Television screen.
“It’s saying I have to kill them. I don’t think I have a choice anymore. I keep waking up by the front door holding enough ammunition to take out the whole town. I think it can control me in my sleep!”
At this point the false calm slipped and the exasperated terror returned. “It’s even taking control when I’m awake! I keep trying to kill myself but I can’t. I want to call the cops but I can’t! He stops me. I am trapped, isolated with no hope of escape. I don’t want to escape anymore!” The furious sobbing had started again. “I just want to die! Please just let me die!” A shivering hand reached forward and ended the clip.
The last segment was indistinct. The dead man held the camera in his hand, but did not aim it at anything in particular; it swung in his grip, catching blurred images of the ground. Suddenly he stopped, and after a few moments he gasped in horror.
“How did I get here!” he shouted, “No no no no no! It has control!” At this point he seemed to notice the camera in his hands. It jerked and twisted, and then settled on a compressed patch of grass much larger than any of the footprints.
“It’s there!” he said quietly. “It’s watching us! It’s the Damned Thing!”
Suddenly the patch divided into to four smaller prints, which began hurrying towards the man.
He shouted with glee, “Yes, come and kill me! End my pain at last!” He laughed with delight as the invisible force seemed to impact him, and then collapsed to the ground. The camera fell too, the video flickering as it impacted the ground. The final few frames saw the cabin clearly, and a name scrawled in blood across it.
Smeared across the wall in deep red was the name Robert Jones.

Words: 1995

Layrinth of Priorities

Pan’s Labyrinth is like the American Olympic hockey team; it goes home with a silver medal when it was so close to taking the gold. Don’t get me wrong, a silver medal movie is still a must see. The movie is intriguing and entertaining at once, featuring a dual storyline and many powerful characters. Despite this, it is a lack of precedence that has caused this movie to be “just good” when it could have been “amazing”.

The tale takes place in the middle of a Spanish civil war. The viewers join Ofelia, a young girl who travels to a military base with her pregnant mother. Her stepfather, a coldhearted captain who cares only for his unborn son, treats her with contempt. As her mother’s health fades, Ofelia meets a faun who assigns her a series of challenges she must complete to earn her place as princess of the underworld. The princes-to-be sneaks about completing her tasks, while a second plotline follows the battle between guerilla rebels and the soldiers at the base. Both storylines have strong characters and interesting conflicts, but the schizophrenic bouncing between the two hampers the overall effect. The result of a movie with two excellent yet isolated plots is a single piece that does neither part justice.

Most of the acting in Pan’s Labyrinth was fantastic. Sergi Lopez as Captain Vidal was unmistakably evil and was a terribly easy character to hate. It was just as easy to sympathize with Mercedes, played by Maribel Verdu, and the rebels she supported. Even the strange pale man and faun, both acted by Doug Jones, were incredibly convincing. The one actor who sticks out in my mind as having been unconvincing an unimpressive was none other than Ivana Baquero, the actress who played Ofelia. Throughout the movie she fulfilled her role with a startling lack of emotion, while being outshone by every other actor she bumped into. Additionally, whenever an animated fairy greets Ofelia, she always seems to be looking past it rather than at it. It seems a great lapse in judgment that the most important actor in the movie was also the one who leaves the worst impression.

The production itself was little short of spectacular. The use of color to portray mood was particularly effective, as color disappears the further into the story you get. The mythical creatures were entirely believable, strange as they may have been. The designs were well thought out and authentic. Of particular splendor were the room with the pale man, and the room in the center of the labyrinth. Special effects created Ofelia’s fantastical storyline with great confidence. Music was fairly subdued and I felt it was not used as effectively as the color changes from scene to scene. In this section I have no complaints. Guillermo del Toro did a fantastic job creating a beautifully terrifying world.


Pan’s Labyrinth brings together a fantastical plot and a realistic war. It makes an excellent addition to any dark fantasy collection, as its central themes revolve around the meaning of death. It is a shame that the dual storylines were almost unconnected, because it is that and poor acting of Ofelia that keep this flick from taking home the gold. Nevertheless this movie is a powerful dark fantasy that is both great to watch and thought provoking, and I would recommend this silver medalist wholeheartedly to any lover of fantasy, action, and/or adventure.

The New Immortal

I had that warm feeling you get whenever something great is about to happen. My stomach was filled with butterflies and I had the biggest damn grin on my face you’ve ever seen. It was just after dusk and I was on my way to the best meal on God’s green earth; Chili’s Baby-Back Ribs. I was feeling so grand even my eyesight seemed to have received a boost since I hadn’t realized my headlights were off until an angry driver flashed his at me while flaring his horn. To top it off, when I got to my destination I would be meeting Sandy, the girl I’d been trying to get a date with for a whole year. The memory our chance encounter from the previous night made my grin grow so large it started to hurt. The kissing, the necking, and… well that’s all that survived the censor.
Progress on the highway had slowed. I looked out the window to get a better look at what was causing the hold-up and saw the three-lane highway merging to two lanes to cross a bridge up ahead. Far below was a river rushing at terrific speed, foaming and thrashing as if trying to reach the cars above. I swore viciously and drove the red car onto the breakdown lane, dialing up Sandy as I slowed to a stop.
“Hey beautiful,” I said, “it’s Jeff.”
The wondrous voice sounded back over the phone, “I hope you’re not calling to cancel.”
“No, no,” I said hastily. “It’s just I can’t get across the river. Is there another Chili’s on this side?”
“Why not?” There was an edge to her voice now, subtle though it was. “Is the bridge closed off?”
The question left me speechless. Why couldn’t I cross? I didn’t know. I had just been driving up to the river and something in me had known I wouldn’t be able to make it across. It had just seemed so obvious that it was impossible, but now it seemed absurd.
“Never mind, I’m being ridiculous.”
“NO!” The sudden aggression in Sandy’s voice startled me. Her voice quickly returned to its normal heavenly chime. “I mean, let’s just go to the Chili’s on this side of the river. That works better for me too.”
She gave me the address and I turned around, pondering the strange conversation. At Chili’s I found Sandy waiting for me at the bar, wearing a bright red dress that flowed like a living creature. As usual I was struck momentarily dumb by her beauty, but I kept my pace and walked over smoothly.
“Sorry to keep a pretty girl waiting,” I said casually.
“Oh it’s alright”. As she spoke a waiter placed two racks of ribs on the bar. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering you the ribs.” She offered me a sort of mischievous smile.
This girl is perfect I thought to myself, while saying “thank goodness you did! I’m starving!” I sat down and we both started enjoying our meals. The conversation flowed like a champion figure skater on freshly cleaned ice.
I quickly noticed that the ribs were not meeting my craving as I had thought they would. I couldn’t put my finger on it but they didn’t taste right. Sandy seemed to notice my distaste, and asked “is the meat alright?”
“Its great,” I quickly thought about how best to answer. “It’s just that I’m craving something a little more fresh.”
At this something momentarily changed in Sandy’s expression. She was waiting for me to say that, I thought to myself.
“Come on,” her smile broadened as she spoke, “I know a great place.” I dropped some cash on the counter and we drove off in the blood red corvette.
With some confusion I soon parked the car outside a field filled with cows. “Fresh enough for you?” she asked playfully, that roguish grin playing back again.
I laughed and followed her into the field, suddenly noticing I was starving. At that moment I lost control. It felt like something inside me was taking over, but I had no desire to stop it. The next thing I knew I had my teeth deep in the neck of a nearby cow, with Sandy clamped to the other side of that same neck. Blood flowed into my mouth and down my throat, bringing the most incredible feeling of warmth I had ever felt. After some minutes I pulled away, looking up.
“You turned me into a vampire”. The statement rang through the night. I hadn’t realized it myself until that instant. “Why?”
She looked my in the eyes, smiling hesitantly. “I was lonely. Living as a vampire alone is… you don’t understand the pain of living for eternity alone. You have to hide your identity from everyone, always running from those who suspect you. I couldn’t deal with it alone.” A sudden look of horror crossed her face. “And now I’ve forced all that on you! No! I should not have done this! I made a hasty deci-“
I cut her off at this point, tossing the now dead cow aside as if it weighed nothing, and put a finger to her lips. “So you’ve granted me super strength, night vision, and eternal life? And I have to spend it with you?” my new fangs were visible as I threw back my head and laughed. “That doesn’t sound like a curse to me! Any other surprises you want to lay on me before our next date?”
Sandy was taken aback. “Well there’s the aversion to sunlight, the speed, and oh yeah,” at this point that sneaky smile found its way back, “you can fly.”
So now here I am. Standing on top of the largest building in town, ready to jump into the teeth of the city that would tear me to shreds if it knew what I was. With a shout of joy, Sandy and I launched into the night.
1000 words