The Audition - A Tale of Terror Part 7
Posted: Tuesday, April 21, 2009
by Ryan Stroud
Jim, now with his back to the hallway, turned and tried to head towards the front door. Murphy moved in his way, knocking Jim down.
"Jim, I'm telling you, just let this happen."
Jim crawled backwards and stood up. He waited for Murphy to come at him a little and then he would strike. Murphy did and Jim swung his leg with everything he had. The blow crossed Murphy's face knocking him to the ground. Jim turned and began to run down the same hall McCoy was taken down. He reached the first door on his left and turned the handle. Jim was looking for a way out, anything would do at this moment, a room with a window maybe; anything to get out of this house and away from the freaks.
Harry McCoy lay in the large tub, his eyes wide and gleaming at Jim. Jim took a step backward as he noticed McCoy's stomach had been ripped open, a portion of his intestines hanging out. Blood filled the tub in small pools and Jim noticed McCoy wasn't dead, yet.
McCoy's eyes were full of fright. They were reaching out to Jim, begging him for help. His eyes were straining in pain at what was happening to him. They slowly moved down, looking at his torso and the bloody mangled mess it now was. He looked back up at Jim and tried to talk.
"Hee.Heeelp me, pl..pl..please," McCoy said. He began to cough and blood shot out his mouth, smacking Jim in the face. Jim stood there shocked. "Heeeeelp me, Ji..Jim."
McCoy's eyes rolled back into their sockets, his head fell back against the wall of the tub, thumping the wall with a vicious thud. McCoy's body lay there, lifeless.
Jim reached down, grabbing on of McCoy's bloody hands, squeezing it tight. "Hey, man, wake up. Wake up; we got to get you outta here. Wake up," Jim screamed. He could feel McCoy's pulse slowly patter away. To Jim's horror, McCoy was dying right in front of him.
Jim fell to the floor in horror. He was now covered in McCoy's blood. He looked at his hands and back at McCoy's body. Jim turned to the window and stood up. "I'm going to get you out of here," he said to McCoy. McCoy's lifeless body didn't respond. Jim opened the window and reached back down for towards the bloody mess of meat which was made of Grave Peril's singer. He grabbed McCoy behind his arms and began pulling up. McCoy's face and head fell backward, slapping Jim in the side of the head. Blood fell out of McCoy's mouth, spilling across Jim's face, leaving dark lines of scarlet. Jim felt the urge to throw up but held it back. He wiped at the blood the best he could but it was to no avail.
McCoy's body was now out of the tub and Jim was trying to lift it to the open window. He got McCoy's arms and head threw and began pushing up the lower part of the unresponsive body.
A footstep entered the bathroom. Jim heard the step and stopped. He heard another and another, slowly getting closer to him. Jim let go of McCoy's body and quickly turned around. As he did, Jim saw Murphy's sister standing there. She looked different, now that Jim could finally get a good look at her. Her body was small and pretty, her limbs, dainty like a child's. She still had the same closes on except they were now covered in McCoy's blood. Jim looked a little closer at her face and he could see, through her think hair which covered most of it, chucks of meat and blood dripping off her chin. A piece of meat hit the floor, leaving a large splat of blood behind. Jim knew it was McCoy's.
She didn't say anything to Jim as she quietly stepped closer and closer toward him. A small smile crept across her mouth.
Murphy's sister pulled something from behind her back. It was a black baseball bat. Jim looked at her. He began to cry. "Please, don't kill me," he begged.
She just smiled even wider back at him and in the faintest, softest voice Jim had ever heard, almost to a whisper, she said, "I'm hungry."
She raised her arms and the black baseball bat fell from overhead, hitting him in right on top of his head. He didn't get the chance to scream, he bat hit too quickly. Jim slowly slid to the floor. He was out cold.
Jim opened his eyes. There was no telling how long he had been out. He was now lying on the floor of the bathroom and McCoy was back in the tub. The floor was covered in McCoy's blood, drenched everywhere. Jim looked up and saw Murphy standing at the bathroom sink and looking into a mirror, his sister, sitting on her knees by the entrance of the bathroom door. Murphy turned toward Jim and smiled. He had a rag in his hand and seemed to be cleaning a cut on his face.
"You really got me good there with that kick," Murphy said. "That really hurt. But, its ok, I forgive you."
Jim tried to speak but nothing came out. He didn't have the energy to argue back. Murphy slowly walked toward Jim and crouched next to him. Murphy's sister got to her hand, crouching like a cat.
"I told you, if you would have just listened, this wouldn't have been painful. But, you didn't listen," Murphy said with that same evil smile.
"Jim, it's nothing personal, I promise. But, my sister needs to feed." Murphy stood up, turned toward the bathroom door and exited the room.
Murphy's sister just sat there still crouched like a cat. Jim tried to stand but he couldn't, he just didn't have the energy. She slowly stated to crawl toward him, one hand in front of the other. As she got closer, she shook the hair out of her face. Jim saw, in great horror, the biggest, sharpest teeth he had ever seen on any animal. Murphy's sister smiled and licked her teeth.
"Don't. Please don't," Jim whispered but it was to no avail.
Murphy's sister was now on top of Jim, her hands on his thighs. He looked in her eyes. They looked dead, Jim thought. She licked her teeth one more time and then quickly lowered her head into Jim's stomach, ripping it open with her sharp fangs.
All Jim could do was scream.
The End.
Ryan Stroud is a military trained journalist who has served in Iraq with the 3rd Brigade Combat Team, 1st Cavalry Division, US Army. Prior to his military experiences, Stroud grew up playing, coaching, and refereeing soccer. Also, Stroud focused many years of his life playing, touring, and recording/producing local music acts. He has a wonderful wife of 4 years, a 2 year old son and a newborn daughter.
Stroud's biggest writing influences are Jim Butcher, Chuck Palahniuk, Edward Lee, Jack Ketchum, Christopher Moore and Ben Fox.
He currently resides in Huntsville, Al, with the 59th Ordnance Brigade at Redstone Arsenal.
Stroud would also like to take a moment to thank his friends who are currently in battle over in Iraq. God bless all of you.
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