Horrid

HORRID By R.A.Brewster [[Start]]

You find yourself waiting for a call in your car. You've been parked at the end of the long dirt road for hours. Before you is a gate, wrought iron and rusty, behind which sits the house you've obsessed over for years. Finally, your phone rings. [[Answer it]] [[Let it ring for a bit ]]

You choose to let the phone ring for a few minutes before picking it up. You are honestly quite annoyed at the man on the other end: the only one who has this number. The call should have come a long time ago. Might as well let him sweat a bit, too. You know it is an empty act. That man never stresses over anything. [["It is about fucking time"]]

"I thought you were drunk off your ass somewhere again." You listen intently to the labored breathing on the other end. [[Listen]]

"Aww, come on man. Tonight is the night! I couldn't leave you hanging." The slur in his words irritate you to no end and set your teeth on edge. Of course he'd be hitting on the sauce. Of course on the night of your biggest score, he couldn't be fucked to sober up. [[Bring up his drinking again]] [[let it ride]]

"Damn it, Chip! If you are six sheets to the wind tonight, I swear to God." There is a cough and sputter. [[Listen to him]]

You hold your toungue and remain silent. The voice on the other end seems to sense your feelings and lets out a nervous chuckle. "Okay, look. I can tell you might be a little..." "Chip." Is all you say. "Hear me out, huh? I know we talked about this, but just hear me out, okay?" [[Listen to him]]

"Now, look. I just needed a bit to settle me down. I've been watching this place like a hawk for days now. You wouldn't believe the cops around here, nosey as shit. I promise it was just a nip, I'm right as rain." [["How many nights you been at Susie's?]]

"What?" That shook him up, you can tell. His voice has always been a dead giveaway. Whenever Chip was lying, he'd go up a few octaves. Sounded like a damn castrata. "How many nights you been at Susie's?" You asked again, keeping your voice even. "Like six, but it was..." he dosen't get a chance to finish. "Six! Out of how many nights, man?" "Well..." Chip starts. "Ten, ten god damn nights. For all you know, I'm walking into the mother-fucking police ball!" [[Take some deep breaths and regain your calm]]

"Look, lets just get this show on the road." While Chip goes over the game plan with you, when and where he'll be, what lookout points he's set up, so on and so forth, you triple check your working bag. Inside the brown leather bag you find familiar tools: your lockpick set, a handy crowbar, dozens of tiny bearings, and two high powered electromagnets. You came across these babies a few years ago after nearly getting busted because of a window alarm. That won't be happening again. [[Step out of the car and head over the gate to the house]] [[Check with Chip one more time about his part]]

The sky was clear and the moon shone down bright like a ghostly sun. It was full and fat and a little golden, a theif's moon if there ever was one. You take a deep breath of the cool air before pulling your ski mask on. Now covered in black from head to toe, you looked like a shadow torn from its owner. It was easy to shimmy over the fence and slink across the overgrown yard toward the front door. As dumb as it sounded to you at first, Chip assured you that this was your best point of entry. Seems all the ground level windows were barred. Which, the more you thought about it, wasn't surprising given the reputation of this place. [[Muse about the history while you pick the lock]]

"Alright brother, what is your one job?" "Keep a lookout for the fuzz." Chip said in a robotic voice, like he'd said that so many times it was just an automatic response. "And what are you going to do if you see anyone or hear anything?" You give a lockpick a close inspection. "Radio right away. How many times we done this now?" Chip sighed. "Don't matter, I don't plan on doing another dime any time soon. So you call in if you so much as hear an ant fart." That got him into a giggling fit, the sound of which forced you to smile, always did, no matter how hard you tired to stop it. "Alright, alright. It's showtime." [[Step out of the car and head over the gate to the house]]

You felt like you've grown up in the shadow of this house. It had been built like a classic plantation, all white and with just a tinge of that quiet southern racism on the contours of the facade. It had always had the reputation of opulence, no matter the owner. It just oozed money. [[Nearly jump out of your skin when your earpiece crackles]]

"So who owned this place again, anyway?" Chip's staticy voice all of sudden nearly caused you to jump out of your skin. "Jesus Hernandez Christ," you hiss at him, still trying to keep your voice low. "Oh come on, I'm telling you the place is empty as geriatric titty bar." You could almost hear the smile on Chip's face. "Two brothers, wasn't it?" "Yeah but I can't remember their names for some reason..." You strain your brain to try and remember something so... so unimportant. "Sounded like something out of a bad mob movie though, like one of those crime families." "Eh, dosen't matter." [[with a twist of your wrist, the door opens]]

"Damn boy that was quick." "There's nothing I can't open." You toot your own horn a bit. Toot toot. You wonder what is wrong with you and continue on. "Thats not what your mom says." "Chip that...that dosen't make any sense." Your head begins to hurt again. You imagine there is a turmor in there, and it has Chip's annoying smile. "Think about it." He sounds so damn smug. "Damn it, Chip..." Whatever insult you had planned to hurl at him died on your lips at the state of the house as you stepped inside. [[look around]]

The place was a mess. No, "mess" was an understatment. It looked like a dumpster fire had forcibly mated with the ruins of some hobo camp, and this was the foul offspring of the two. There was trash in every corner, mud and dirt so deep in the carpet it looked like a swamp. Pipes must have burst somewhere because the walls were practically moving with mold. [[click on your light]]

You click on your head light and two things happen. The first, you immediately wish you had left it off. Getting a better look at the waste made your heart sink. There might not be anything worth looting at this point if this was the state of things. The second thing: A family of raccons which had been engaged in some very naughty activites in the shadows freaked the hell out. Their chittering and hissing sounded idignant as they scattered. "So don't leave me hanging! How does it look?" Chip sounded as excited as you wished you felt. [[Tell him]] [[Ignore him and move deeper into the house]]

"Chip, man... it is a shithole." "What?" "I mean it is a wrecked. Looks like a hoarder's house threw up in here." You kick over a stack of molded newspapers. There must have been at least two hundred there. "It is going to take forever to find anything good, I can already tell." "Don't be a pessimist, I'm sure it won't be that bad." You can hear the tone change in his voice though, disappointment will do that. You scan around for a tv or speakers, any of the fast and dirty. The light catches on something purple and sparkly by the old fireplace. [[Examine the strange sparkle ]]

You choose to leave him hanging and move deeper into the house. No point souring his mood. Besides, there has got to be something in this junk worth the time. There just has to be. Your light reflects off of something by a large, ornate fireplace, something purple and sparkly that caught your attention right away. [[Examine the strange sparkle ]]

It was a poster. Oddly devoid of mildew or grime. On it was a rather dashing wrestler done up in a lot, and you really can't stress this enough, a LOT of purple spandex. The bold print, which was the source of the sparkle due to a large amount of glitter, read: MISSING: STERDUST! DID HE SHOOT TOO HIGH AND LAND AMONG THE STERS?!? [[you pull the poster off the wall to get a better look]]

It took a little more tugging than you expected. Once it was off, you notice a well worn square cut into the wall. The poster had been covering it up. The square was no bigger than your hand. [[press your hand against it]]

It pushes in easily, and like something out of a Scooby Doo show, the fireplace sinks back a bit into the wall. It then drops down into the floor to reveal a hidden staircase going down. "Chip, brother, you are not going to believe this." [[explain to Chip what just happened]]

"That is batshit. Don't go down there, dude." "That is where the good stuff is! I'm sure of it. It's like a fucking vault." "Have you not watched any movie ever, like any of them? Shit, even Ernest wouldn't have fallen for this, and he was like scared stupid every other movie." Chip continued to plead even as you took your first steps down into the dark. "Stuff is hidden for a reason, man. Sometimes dead is better." This causes you to pause for a minute. "Did you just try to Pet Semetary me?" "Did it work?" He sounded hopeful. "No, it dosen't even fit! In fact, now I feel like I have to go down there just to spite you. You've not even seen that movie, have you?" Chip is silent for a bit. "I know there is a cat in it..." [[follow the stairs down]]

The stairs wind on and on for quite some time. You stopped counting after a hundred and thirty steps. The deeper you go the stronger this odd smell becomes. It reminds you of a biology class you took back in high school where you had to disect fetal pigs. You couldn't remember what the name of that stuff in the bags of baby pigs was but it smelled just like this. You are pretty sure it wasn't called piglet juice. 90% sure, at least. After what felt like an age, the stairs open up into a large room. The room is filled with beakers and vials, surgical trays and tools litter stainless steel tables along with jars of questionable contents. Oddly enough, there is a couch in front of a large television among the scientific brikabrack. A red light on the TV indicates that this part of the house is still getting power from somewhere. Generators, maybe? [[Turn the TV on]]

It just seemed so out of place that you decide to check out the large flatscreen. The red light beckons you. You look around the sofa for bit and are struck by the smell. An odd mix of dank ballsweat and body odor. You crinkle your nose and are grateful for the ski mask for blocking at least a little of the funk. Finally, you find the remote and on a lark turn the TV on. What you see causes any playful idea of homemade porn to run out the window of your mind screaming. There on the screen is a severed head. Two men, each looking like a thrid string fill-in for Jersey Shore, stand on either side of it. One of them, laughing hysterically, picks up a syringe filled with some odd glowing liquid. As the other goes on and on in a nasily voice about creating some subserviant race of creature, the one with the needle sticks it into the eye of the head. [[keep watching in abject horror]]

As you watch, horrified, a pair of spidery legs errupt from the mouth off the head. The whole thing twitches and shudders. Jerks hard left and right, each jerk producing another terrifying leg. Until, after a sickening five minutes, a spider's face emerges from the ruined mouth. It clicks its fangs and lets out an almost human scream, much to the delight of the two men who dance around in ape like glee. Something percies the fog of shock and terror clouding your brain, something familar. [[look closer at the video]]

As you stare a little harder at the screen it finally clicks. That awful thing is in the same room you are in right now. Icy dread chills your spine and slowly you turn to look at the examination table behind you. Had you missed it somehow on your first sweep of the room? Could anyone have missed something like that? With a clammy sweat now soaking your mask, you turn around to face the table. [[steel yourself and make peace with the lord]]

There is nothing there. Just a table with a bit of papers and some empty glass vials. You unclench your bowels and sag your shoulders. A bit of a chuckle escapes your lips. Better to laugh than shit your pants, you guess. As you shake your head at yourself, the light settles on a photo. Its dusty but you are sure it is a Polaroid. [[give it a closer look]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/quolN14.png" alt="A Horrid Spider With A Human Head"> [[Mother of God]]

Once again you scan the room and this time pay closer attention to the jars and glass containers. Something inside you told you to run, but a stronger voice convinced you keep looking, to see this horror with your own eyes. There, a few feet away on a counter was something. It didn't look like the monster you were searching for but it looked off, alien. [[step closer and check it out]] [[call Chip and give him an update]]

The thing on the table looked more like an old bag stuffed with other old bags. It was gray and lumpy and withered and only vauguely round, not a single spidery leg to be seen. Still it looked, well, alive. Organic in some strange way. Something scuttles across your feet and your skeleton does its best to free itself from the meaty shell it has been contained in. You throw your hands out to keep from falling and catch the table for support. Your fingers are now far too close to the strange thing. "Fucking raccoons!" You shout at the critters as they run away, their growls more like laughter. Mocking laughter. After your shock and anger subside, a sharp pain shoots up from your hand. In your haste to keep from falling, you had put your palm straight through a glass beaker. It had cut through your glove and left a nasty gash. You could feel warm blood start to pool in the finger tips of your glove and instict told you to give the aching hand a shake. A drop of blood flings out from the cloth and lands on the odd shape. [[It moves]]

You try and radio Chip to clue him in on the weird shit that is probably going to keep your therapist busy for years, but you get back only static. You must be too far underground. [[step closer and check it out]]

Rather violently the sack-like thing jerks. It caves in and and a greenish ooze bubbles out from the cracks, along with that almost-human scream. Your feet are dumb, they won't move fast enough as you shove yourself away from the table. You knock over a few more glass objects in your flight back toward the stairs. Just as you make it to the first step something shoots past your head, almost colliding with you. You freeze. In front of you, having jumped for your head, and by the grace of whatever higher power you could think of, missed, was the horrid spider. The eyes of the dead man's head rolled in their sockets as it turned to face you. [[run for your life the other way]]

Mankind has a lot to be thankful for and, at that moment, you were thankful for whatever evolutionary force had gifted the human race with adrenaline. In a blind panic you turn around and ran faster than a prized piggy at a shirtless hillbilly convention. As luck would have it, you run smack dab into a door. [[open it and get inside]]

Nothing in you cared about what was behind this door, you darted inside just as the thing slammed into it. Your lungs sucked in the musty air by the mouthful, and after about ten good breaths, you realized you were crying. "Hey, over here," a voice called from the shadows across the room. You scream. If you could have pissed at that very moment, you would have. All over yourself. "Hey meathead, over here." You look around, stifling another scream. "Not there dummy, here!" The voice was coming from a small box in the corner. "Now he's got it, sweet tap dancing Moses, get over here." Slowly you approach the box and shine your light into it. Inside is a small, reptilian like creature that is mostly mouth with small arms and wide, mischivious eyes. "Die, hell spawn!" You shout and begin stomping on the box with all your might. It is a sturdy thing and resists your blows for the most part. "Whoa, whoa big fella." The thing inside yells. "Take it easy, will ya. I'm on your side." [[Hear the creature out]]

You decide to hear the creature out after a few more good kicks. "What crawled up your craw and died, lordy!" "Oh I don't know, a Goddamn spider with a head for an ass just shot itself at my fucking head and now I'm here in this piss-smelling room talking to what I can only assume is a creature from the devil's own anus!" You take another deep breath in an attempt to even your voice. "What are you anyway?" "I'm a Boglin. Vlobb's the name, and I did not come from a devil's anus. Though I did visit one summer. It was lovely." Vlobb let out a snicker that was more a weeze. "Don't, don't make jokes right now. Please, I...I can't take it." You are beginning to suspect you are actually in a some cell in a mental ward, all that sweet acid finally caught up to you. "Alright alright, look, you got that thing on your tail. I can help with that, you just got to get me out of here. We can get my boy and get you out at the same time." [[bend down to listen]]

"Your boy?" "Yeah he's the number one Boglin boy, all the guys they..." Vlobb suddenly stopped talking, his eyes far away. Gone was the playful glint from before, only an awful sadness. A blink and it was gone. "Anyway, he's the tops. They got him locked up in here like me. Wanted like 10 million dollars or something for him, you got that kind of cash?" "He can get us out of here?" You were already unlocking the crate even as you asked. At this point anything with the word help was a better plan than what you had. "Oh yeah. He'll clean this mess right up. Thats kinda what he does." You pick Vlobb up and he points you to a small hatch on the other end of the room. "Come on, get your wiggle on, if that thing gets to the jars..." Vlobb was interupted by a chours of those hellish screams. "Well, that's just the piss, isn't it?" Dozens and dozens of hits start to rain upon the door. [[wiggle like the dickens!]]

You shimmy through the hatch and shut it tight behind you. You find youself in a long tunnel with dozens of small doors on one side across from you. Vlobb gives your shoulder a pinch "Come on, down that way now, not far." The two of you head down the right. "So what was that thing? Did those brothers make it?" You stll couldn't wrap your mind around what had just happened. "Hahaha those two, make something themselves?" Vlobb laughed so hard brown tears dripped from his eyes. "Oh, thats a good one. No they bought the juice that made that thing from a real scientist. Not a good one mind you, like a really bad one. I mean cartoonishly bad." Vlobb popped a snot bubble. "Saw the tape did ya?" "Yeah." "They used to just wank each other off watching that. For like hours. Was an awful sight, those two just pounding it." His eyes grew far away again, "Just pounding it...pounding it...pounding it." "Vlobb, stick with me man." [[stop and give him a little shake]]

That seemed to snap him out of it. "Sorry." He still looked shaken by the memory of the nightmares he must have seen. "Let's just keep going, few more now." "Did they kill a guy for that head?" You aren't sure but for some reason the thought of them committing homicide to make that thing turned your stomach. "Eh, just some racist Australian guy they found on Craigslist." Vlobb stopped by a door and took a long smell. His whole body shook and his eyes shone bright. "Here! Open it up." "How, I don't have a key?" "Um next to the door dude." Sure enough there was a ring of keys right by the cell. "They really weren't very smart, were they?" "Nope." [[open the cell]]

As soon as you open the cell door, your nose was assaulted by the scent of stale cornchips. There were hundreds of Doritos wrappers on the floor, stuck to the walls, even arranged into tiny little bag men. Vlobb didn't mind the bags though. He took off through them toward the bunch of large vats in the back. "Boss!?" He cried. "Oh boss, I found you!" You step into the room and see a man sprawled across the vats, each one read Mt. Dew Industrial. He'd been using them for a bed, it would seem. One look at this man, even in his weakened form and cheese crusted black suite, and you just new he woke up in the morning and pissed excellence. [[listen to their whispered conversation]]

The man's voice was weak and hoarse, but still oddly seductive. "Vlobb, Vlobb my child. Is that you?" "Yeah boss, I'm here." "And..and the others?" Vlobb looked away, unable to meet the man's eyes. "No..." The man clinched one gloved hand into a fist, his jaw tight. "No." "You're still my number one Boglin boy." Vlobb put his tiny clawed hand on the man's leg. "Always will be." "Look um, we really need to get the hell out of here." You look around and notice a bunch of what appear to be Pogs covered in a white, sticky substance. You choose not to mention it. "Like now." "I'm not leaving." The man stood up, his presence filled the tiny room. "Hey man, the little guy there said you knew the way out." [[motion to Vlobb]]

"Boss, we've got to go, those things are back. Multiplying like chills whenever somebody plays Greased Lightning." The man turns to you and points back out into the hall. "Keep following the tunnel to the right and you'll come across the steps to the elevator. Now go." A look of grim determintation crossed his face. "This ends tonight." With a nod, you turn and take off into a sprint down the tunnel. A little winded, you crest the stairs to the elevator. Somewhere nearby you can hear the hum of dying generators. Inside the tiny box as it shoots up and away from the horrors, you let the flood of emotions wash over you. You've never been so happy to hear the "ding" of arrival in your whole life. [[step out of the elevator]]

You step out and see a wooden banister. You realize that you must be somewhere on the third or second floor. You follow the wooden railing to yet another flight of stairs. While you take them two at a time in a mad dash, you vow to never live in a place with more than one floor. These stairs are for the birds. As you jump over the final step and land in front of the door your joy at upcoming freedom dies a sad death. In front of the door, almsot as if they had been waiting just for you, were dozens of those horrid spiders. Monstrosities click at you in unison before giving chase. You jump to the left, but one of them digs a sharp foreleg into your side. Pain shoots through your ribs and down your leg. You let out a shout and manage to shove the creature back only to be knocked over by yet another one. Soon they swarm you. Each looking exactly the same as the other as they press down on you. [[curse them as your life comes to an end]]

Just as the first few choice words of damnation leave your lips, a jet of flame shoots out from somewhere nearby and lights up the hoarde atop you. Their flesh and chitin sear and pop as the cleansing fires wash over them. They scurry off you and give you a brief chance to escape. You take it. Another hot blast of fire cooks through a few more, this time igniting the wall and bookself. You make to the door with the the sound of their agonizing screams in your ears. [[take one last look back]]

You turn back to look behind you before bolting outside. The man from before was there. He'd donned a flame thrower from some hidden space below and spread white hot justice on the abominations. He stood there among the fire, eyes wide, a rougish smile on his face as terror upon terror broke themselves against him. You were awestruck. The only thing you could think to do in that moment was thank God for him. [[fin]]

Thanks for playing and thank God for you, Jim. Long time fan and I hope you enjoyed playing. (I plan to share this with the subreddit so all you fine lot can maybe get a good chuckle or two. If you want to check out more about me, I'm over at rabrewster.com)

You answer the phone right away, so impatiently that your fingers feel as if they're moving in slow motion. You were ready to get this started a while ago. [["It is about fucking time"]]

"Come on dude look, the place is empty as a tomb. I cased it out and everything. So I skipped a few nights' watch, but I did all the checks. Even went and pulled a little Clockwork Orange and banged on that damn door for an hour for help. Not a peep," Chip tries to reasure you. "Have I ever let you down before, like, really let you down when it counted?" You could feel your pulse pound in your temples, but you take one last deep breath. "No, not when it matters." "I know you need this. We both need a good haul." Chip's voice perked up. "You got that tape?" You groan but let out a chuckle. "I swear to God, you and that Culkin movie. I'm not leaving a bunch of change taped to the wall. What kind of theif has a calling card, anyway?" "The badass kind." Chip groans in your ear. "I swear, where is your passion?" [[cut this off before he starts with the quotes]]