Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta drinking. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta drinking. Mostrar todas las entradas

viernes, 3 de febrero de 2017

Wild Space

   Above them, the various pieces that made up the space station had caught on fire and were falling at high speed to the ocean in front of the islands. It had been a miracle that the planet had a archipelago in the right place, or their pod would have landed in the middle of the water and they would now be dead. As the biggest pieces collided with the surface of the water, the five survivors of the station looked at the water in horror, as an enormous creature roared, visibly enrage by the fallen projectiles.

 There, above the ground and the sky, their life had been ideal but not perfect. They had everything they could ask for, such as running water, food, information, communications and so on. The program they were involved in was only about civilians in space, so none of them were actual astronauts or scientists. They were all normal people, in the sense that they only had the basic knowledge of how to survive in space. And now, survival skills were the most needed.

 The group started walking downhill, as their pod had crashed against the highest part of a mountain that seemed to be made of something sand-like. Shock wouldn’t have let them move but they noticed the ground shaking below them and the monster in the water became a second problem. In front of the team, Richard was leading them towards the beach, where he thought they could be safer. No one really said anything, they just followed and tried to hear everything around them.

 Richard had been a boy scout as a kid. He had camped in various national parks back home and he had enjoyed it thoroughly except for a traumatic experience that made him retire from the scouts. Their parents never demanded to know why and he concluded it was better like that. Now he was walking under a blazing sun, with four other people he barely knew, even after living together in a space station for a year. That, somehow, had not been enough time to get to know one another.

 When they arrive to the beach, the first to sit down was the only other man, a man called Sebastian. Despite the English sounding name, he was actually Swedish and spoke with a very thick accent. Sebastian was older than Richard and he had been a magazine editor back home. He had become a part of the team as they all had: paying a big sum and basically winning a lottery. He wanted to get out of the Earth fast, as his wife had died only a few years after getting married. He felt so heartbroken that he decided to leave on an impulse and now there he was.

 The three women were called Maria, Kim and Victoria. Maria had only win the lottery. She had won the only seat in the station that was up for grabs without the need to pay anything. She was a janitor back on Earth and had decided to join in order to get away from her family, who she secretly hated. Kim was a famous supermodel, tired of being in the spotlight and Victoria was an architect from Angola, named after the queen that had conquered the African continent.

 The three of them seemed tired but none sat down on the ground. They instead watched the ocean, looking for the creature. At some point, it had disappeared, along with the wreckage from the station. Richard was still trying to understand what had happened but it had all been so fast… They were all sleeping and the alarm started beeping: apparently the ship’s hyper drive had ignited by itself and they were now ramming against a planet. With only minutes to decide, they jumped on the pod and saved their lives.

 As they had no idea how that world worked, they agreed that the best thing was to walk along the edge of the ocean and look for something to eat. Then, they would try to find some sort of cave or safe place to rest. After those two things had been achieved, they could be thinking about the future, if that was a possibility. They walked in silence, watching the strange bushes growing by the beach, hearing the strange squishing sound coming from the greenish water of the ocean.

 Not of them wanted to talk too much. After all, there were originally six people in the space station. A man called Bruno had not come to the pod after hearing the alarm. They never knew what he was doing, if maybe he had been the one to make the hyper drive work. In any case, he was now dead, spread across the skies as the station fell to the ocean. He was a strange man, always hiding something from the rest of them. He seemed much more tormented than all of them put together.

 They stopped when they noticed a small stream coming from inside the island. The water was also green. Kim walked closer but Richard warned her that it might be poisonous or have chemical compounds too different for the human body to process them. But Kim didn’t want to drink the water but to observe it. It behave differently, not like a normal liquid but like some sort of creature. The woman got up fast, shaking. She then looked at the ocean and said what she was thinking aloud: what if the water in that planet was actually alive, moving slowly on its sides?

 As she said that, tentacles branched out of the ocean and launched themselves at the group. Richard and Kim ran first. Maria followed them closely, as did Victoria but Sebastian was way to slow and he got grabbed by the ankles. What happened next made Maria scream and Kim almost faint. Victoria vomited right there, just a few meters away from the water, as they saw the most disgusting spectacle that they had never seen. The universe was a place to be afraid of.

 The water, or whatever it was, had absorbed Sebastian’s body through those tentacles. It was like watching a kid drink out of those juices that come in a bag, only that this bag had been alive just moments prior. He didn’t even had the chance to scream or anything like that. The man just died, obviously, his empty body dumped carried by the tentacles towards the ocean. Apparently, the tentacles fed the creature that had been disturbed by the fallen debris. It appeared again, eating their companion.

 Victoria was trembling wildly and Kim had to be helped by Richard, as her legs didn’t properly work. It was Maria who, her face white of the horror, suggested they looked the opposite shore. They had to verify if water was like that all around. It could be the decisive point between remaining alive in that planet or dying without any possibility. So they walked, in silence, still shaking and wanting to scream. But hey feared potential creature in the bushes, so they kept to themselves.

 The opposite shore was only an hour away, cutting through the island. When they saw it from afar, they noticed right away it was a different kind of ocean. When they got closer, they realized it was normal water, the one they knew from back home. Deciding it couldn’t get more dangerous than a stomachache, they decided to drink some. It wasn’t salted, as ocean water on Earth, rather on the sweet side. They each drank a bit and then sat down on the beach, to rest their trembling bodies.

 It was Victoria who started crying first, then it was Maria and then everyone was crying. In a weird way, that united them more than anything before. They hadn’t really been friends or anything back in the station, just travelling mates,. Now, things had to be a little different.


 They were drying their tears with their hands when a loud noise was heard above them. They looked up in horror to discover an enormous ship just passing above them. It was obviously not man made. It had all sorts of inhuman features. And it hadn’t noticed them… yet.

jueves, 16 de octubre de 2014

Lady of the night

Brutal, bloody, senseless. Few words to describe the kind of horrors we have been living in Paris the past few days.

It all started with a corpse, floating on the Seine. They had tried to fill his guts with stones but the cut opened and the dead man floated back up.

As a member of the police, I'm responsable for the people of this town. It's not an easy task: these streets are filled with every single element of society: whores and thieves, society ladies and dandies, politicians and bakers. Every one walks these streets.

This first year of the new century has been disastrous for the force. I sometimes think 1900 is going to be the year that tears us apart, when this country will finally fall to the hands of brigands and opium smokers.

The city is less dangerous than in the past, that may be true, but what about this murders? Five men have been found floating on the Seine, in different parts of the city, always with a mark carved behind their necks: a spiral.

No one knew what that meant but, as policemen, we knew dead men would continue to come up. They all had some stones inside and we dismissed the idea the killer wanted them to sink. It was something else.

I visited Doctor Marteau, an old men that had studied in London and knew all about the procedures and tests to be done to a corpse, in order to find more about the death. Well, he did his job just fine. He found out every single one of these men had been sodomized with an object. The doctor was sure of it.

On the job, I had been to every part of town and knew about every aberration that lived in the city. Men sodomizing each other? No news to me. So there was more to it than just raping men and killing them. Someone was throwing them to the water, making them visible for us to get them. And that person, or persons, were branding these men like cattle.

After days of stalling, I went to have a glass of wine, a few glasses actually, to an old place I loved in the artists district, not far from the Moulin Rouge and the Sacré Coeur. All the girls knew me well and also knew I would be good to them if they didn't get into trouble. They greeted me on the street and I slightly bowed: they were women all the same.

I finally got to my joint and drank and drank and enjoyed myself for the first time in months. I liked talking to Michel, the bartender. A bald men that had seen enough of Paris and now only worked and lived in the same neighborhood, never traveling anywhere nor wandering around. But, as I did, he knew people.

He told me he had heard about the dead men and even about the state of the bodies, something we hadn't released to the press. I was rather surprised. He said a guy from the morgue came in the place a few times a week to brag about the horrible things he saw, drank a few ones and then left with a different chick every time.

I left the place, a bit dizzy but sure enough I could get home all right. It wasn't very far and I hated trains or cars. Nothing like the good air of Paris in the spring. Even late at night, it comforts you.

I walked down a steep road and among various buildings. I stopped to pee on a garden or something and moved on. Wine out of the system, I felt less drunk and very hungry. I had walked a lot and suddenly found myself near Madeleine. I knew a place around there so I could have something to eat.

But I never got to that. A man was screaming his lungs out, mad to the core or scared. I approached the screams, as I tried to dissipate any dizziness of my mind. Apparently, I was on duty.

The man was on the ground, leaning on a building. His eyes looked troubled, big and red. His leg was cut deep and bled profusely on the ground. The sight was enough to make me sick. And having had nothing to eat, it was worse.

I calmed down the man, telling him to stop shouting and to talk to me. I took out my ID and presented myself as a policemen. He ceased with the screaming but still trembled uncontrollably, as if he had seen a monster.

I looked all over my coat and finally pulled out my whistle. I carried it for emergencies and this was one for sure. I used it many times and minutes later two fellow officers helped me get the sick man to an ambulance.

The next day, I tried to visit him but couldn't. He had been put on strong medication, in order to cure his leg and to help him deal with the pain. It wasn't the appropriate time to question him.

I came back after two days. I wasn't feeling very good: another body had been found on the night I found my screaming lunatic. I visited him because I needed to know he was fine, at the moment, I never imagined he would be a pivotal part of everything.

A nurse pulled a chair close for me and I sat beside his bed. To be honest, this young man was handsome, which led me to believe he came of a good family. His clothes were expensive, for what the talkative nurse told me, and he had money on himself so he wasn't mugged.

He turned to me and greeted me kindly, as if I was a old friend. He told me he remembered me from that night and thanked me for my help. I told him that, as a policemen, that was my duty. I proceeded to ask what had happened and then his kind smile disappeared. And he began telling me.

He had escaped his parents house. He was the son of a duchess and a politician that lived in Lyon. He had come with a friend to Paris and started enjoying the night of the city. He went to parties with artists and whores and enjoyed both flesh and drinking. He smoked opium and had sexual relations with everyone he met.

Then, he said, he met a woman when coming out of one of many parties. She was beautiful and willingly went with her to her home. But there was nothing there, no furniture, no clothes, nothing. Only empty space. She said she liked to bring boys there and then proceed to tie him to a post. Then pulled out a knife and cut herself and him, on the leg.

She started talking about the pleasure of carving human flesh, of feeling the guilt of men when she did so and how weak they all were and women had to deal with their stupid attitudes and ideas. She laughed at moments and said it was precious to see them cry in front of her, as he was doing.

Then, according to the young men, she got near but he managed to kick her and release himself. As he was, he fled the building, almost getting caught by the woman. She didn't follow him but he ran fast and far and finally caved to his leg.

I stood there, hearing his words. While he was talking about being forced to drink and smoke by her, I was thinking I was closer to my murderer than ever before. A lady of the night, nonetheless.