You don’t plan on being being a terrorist…at least I’d say that from experience.
I didn’t grow up in an extremist family with far-out beliefs. To be completely honest, I don’t really remember them believing in much except me not knocking anyone up or getting addicted. It’s a low bar, I know, but I met it well enough and that kept them off my case.
They definitely didn’t go crazy either on the whole religion thing, and who could blame ‘em. It’s not like most of us see the face of the almighty in a can of beans these days. Probably more likely to see lead residue, or the reflection of overdue bills. Miracles are in a bit of short supply, and that’s something we all can believe in.
Had I known that there was a darkness beyond the heart of humanity, devouring behind the shadows of the unexpected…I think I would’ve just left this world alone.
There’s no point in making a statement against the beyond, even when their extension denial and foreclosure brought me to this madness. I thought I could show them a final stand, but they countered with the edge of reality.
Everything feels simple when you’re the hero, and the forces of evil bleed as mortal men.
That was before I took my shot.
Before weird and unnatural became flesh.
Before I knew why the bank is closed on Sunday.
The plan was simple: they took everything away from me, so I would return the favor. Go out with a bang that would tear through the upper crust. As basic as I am, I knew enough to learn this type of chemistry early on. Barely anyone can make it in this world, but nearly everyone can destroy it.
Did anyone try to stop me, or talk me down?
Oh Reddit…hold your humble naivete.
We both know well of the many places, some that lay in your glorious underbelly, that would not only ignore but encourage greater chaos. Stumble over to your shamrock cousin if you think any different. If you don’t live IRL, the value of it drops pretty fast.
Since banks are closed on Sundays, it felt like the perfect action night. Less meat sacks to get in the way, and it’s not like I could get a boomstick after the last incident. I would just set my supplies up, and with my phone set to stream, give everyone a tasty outro.
Yet most plans are like people; best laid, yet rarely reliable.
I arrived at the squat concrete block as the church bells rang tunes of folk long dead. I didn’t plan on the clangs of old playing for a solid ten minutes, and grew nervous that it would distract from my show. The only thing possibly more distracting was the fly that continued to zip around my face, occasionally pecking on my cheek like a schoolgirl crush.
Thankfully, I learned years ago that flies are distracted by movement. Jiggle your fingers around in one hand in front of them, and covertly approach with the other. With a quick smack, they’ll never know what hit ‘em.
I wiped the bug guts from my arm, which glowed dingy in the streetlights. That’s another thing I didn’t plan on, I thought to myself. The lighting for the stream is gonna be so dark, it’ll be a miracle if anyone sees me. The only lights I planned on wouldn’t last long and were one time use only.
I wont get into detail about how I set up the deed. This post will probably get taken down on its own merit, no need to increase the likelihood with a course on improvised…fireworks. Not like you couldn’t find it if you were interested anyway. Everything but peace and happiness are a few keywords and clicks away. I did what I did, and that was almost that.
The hardest part of this venture was going to be the live stream. I was always terrible at memorization, and if I just ranted and mumbled along, I’d look like just another below-the-fold whack job, wiped from history by celebrity affairs and bullet points of far away wars.
I tried reciting from my handwritten manifesto, yet for some reason, a strange, old timey song kept invading my thoughts; Like something you’d find on an old hand crank record player in an abandoned residence you were not supposed to be in.
As I gave into the sound however, I noticed it wasn’t one I recognized at all. It wasn’t even coming from my head, like most oddities.
As I slowly spun around, I recognized the music that wasn’t supposed to be playing had been floating from a distant light that wasn’t supposed to be on…in a bank whose front door wasn’t supposed to be open. As I reached for the handle and gave a small tug, I found all that wasn’t supposed to be, and walked right in.
Though I hadn’t planned on seeing morning and had lived in darkness, I admit that what was hidden from the lone light up ahead still spiked my heart. There’s a feeling of lifelessness among all office buildings, and skewing your view just makes that easier to see.
The scratchy drag of carpet feels hungry underfoot. Walls blank in ghost flesh direct your path beyond. Every step feels a gamble with a structure starving to feast. Memories of running up basement stairs as a child fill your head, screaming you escape this place you don’t belong.
Except there’s no solace if you do. The decay outside is only slower, no less lethal, yet my dark thoughts ceased immediately in the light of an open unknown.
I peered past the vault door, unnoticed by the group of black suits that stood ahead.
They stretched multiple feet above my eyes, nearly brushing against the reinforced ceiling. Like a distorted photoshop, every part of them felt as if it was wrongly resized upon entry into reality. Their colorless gloves were cracked and gnarled in shapes inhuman and claw-like. Crimson silk ties leaked as liquid down from the ovals of where faces should’ve been, but the only resemblance was a nightmarish smile, twisting bloodily from chin to forehead. No hair, eyes, or hope found their home on the dead leather head, just the unending grin.
I don’t know what possessed me to pull out my phone, but before I knew it, I was swiping blindly for the camera, too stupefied to drop my gaze. This meant that as the skinned infant was pulled from the kennel in the group’s center, my eyes locked onto hell.
The smile of the handler grew larger as black, stick thin limbs twisted out like spider legs, pulling it open from the inside and wrapping around the child as it stretched over the poor tots head. No sound escaped as little feet flailed frantic, slid, and disappeared behind pearly whites.
No sound besides a sickening crack that flipped my stomach.
Not the breaking of bones, or any living tissue, but of glass and plastic against linoleum.
They turned toward my broken phone, then smiled up through me.
My legs caught air as I took flight. There was no telling if those things were on my tail, frozen still, or vanished. It didn’t matter.
Safety died in the bank vault when suited beasts took charge.
Nothing, not even the front door as I slammed into it at full speed, would say otherwise.
I broke through the glass and landed in a bloody heap onto the sidewalk. The pain rushed over tiny cuts as I sprawled through the shards, but I had to keep going, to start warning. Only one thing left to do, I thought, as I felt into my jacket pocket. I pulled myself into the gutter, closed my eyes, and clicked the remote.
F
L
A
S
H
The sky filled with light…and stayed that way.
I opened my eyes, expecting the forces of hell being burnt back home, but what I saw was much worse.
It was people.
It WAS people, for the remains that lay on the ground would hardly be considered that anymore.
In the mid-afternoon sun, the toasted pieces of arms, legs, and everything were like a morbid barbecue gone nuclear. Main Street to Hiroshima, and I was at ground zero, watching as fire overcame the rubble, and the screams of silence overcame those of pedestrians nearby. Anything beyond the blast zone was beyond sound or saving. Just another statistic for the talking heads of the news cycle.
I pulled myself off the ground in time to smother the fire from my leg, just as my skin began to blister.
It was time to leave.
The best laid plan only managed to have laid a bunch of randos to rest, and I was gonna find myself doing the exact opposite in prison if I stuck around. I didn’t know what pandora’s box I had opened, but chances are, the owner wouldn’t be too pleased.
As I turned one final time towards my consequences, I could’ve sworn I saw the cause.
Shadow of inferno, statue in silhouette.
This wasn’t over for them.
I wasn’t sure for me.
Siren wails spun me round as I heard the other suits approaching, in royal blue, each with badge and heavy trigger finger.
The corner of my eye saw the fiery beasts were gone.
In a moment, so was I.
And that’s what brings us here; me slamming away at the keyboard while I await the sound of approaching tires.
I don’t know what their group or purpose is, as they don’t know what this button does.
Consider us even.
By the time this goes up, all evidence of what went down will probably be erased…or worse, they could frame me for it. Not like I can’t handle it, for after all, I was supposed to be the monster. Just my luck that opportunity knocked late. At least you know the truth, Reddit, as dangerous as it may be.
I’m not gonna be the real monster though, smiling as humanity is shredded from my soul and dragged to hell by forces weirdly wicked. I’ll let the fire from my last experiment rip through my face first. Knowing it’ll throw another monkey wrench in their plans is almost enough for me to grin at.
I hope you all can figure out a better way…though to be honest, it won’t matter to me by the time you read this.
I can feel them creep behind my eyes.
Here’s my final act, America.
See ya in the abyss.