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splitting personality, next 3000 words, about 13000 to go, part two, mafia, horror

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Old 08-23-2014, 08:36 AM
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Default splitting personality, next 3000 words, about 13000 to go, part two, mafia, horror

this is part two, it' s about 3000 words, about 13000 word to the end of this chapter.

warning, adult situations, language, violence.

I think a brief intro since you're in the middle of the story

Precious is the "assistant" "right arm" "enforcer" of 'Don' Michel Sanguinetti. He's large, generally happy man in his forties.

Linda is his niece and he takes care of her. She is afraid to be touched - by anyone but John - she's in love with him. She is also considered insane and extremely dangerous by most of the FAMILY. She is 21 years old and very attractive.

John Raven is the voice I use in this narration, he is a regular sized person and just turned 19. He is married to Polly the Don's daughter. They had a very productive, 1100 pounds a day, pot business before they joined with the Family. John fell in love with Linda when he first saw her. She was Polly's maid of honor at their wedding.

from the end of part one

He smiled. “No, but I thought I would tell you the story.”

I nodded. “So I would know that things could get worse.”

He said. “No, you need to know that I would rather scoop that guy up again than go back in that building.”

part two start

We were at the door and he said “After you.” I went in, he followed. I left the building, instantly sick from the rancid smell. He pleaded, “God-Damn-it John Let’s get this done.”

I gathered myself as best I could and went back inside the human slaughterhouse.

The roof had a piece or two of tin missing and the back door was open or missing. This had been a small barn from the look of the stuff inside. It wasn't but about twelve feet by eighteen feet. I was thankful the weather was chilly. If this was the heat of the summer; well I think you can understand. I don’t even want to think about the smell. I knew the stench, that was somehow getting less intense to me, smelled just as bad as it did when I entered the building. As we walked around, our shoes were sticking to the floor and making cracking noises as we pulled them loose.

The entire place was splattered in blood and the walk areas, around the junk, seemed to be painted with blood.

We found a burlap sack that had something in it. Unfortunately one of us had to look and see what it was. I took the honors and looked inside. It was a head facing up looking at me with white decaying eyes. It had a swelled tongue that pushed the broken teeth apart as it began to protrude out of the mouth.

I felt the mucus started to collect in my throat, I gagged. Precious said. “Who is it?”

To answer the question required that I take a better look at the head and get past the ghastly features and see if I knew the swollen face. I glanced back into the burlap bag, I didn’t look that close but close enough to say. “It’s the other guy, not her father.”

Precious must have wanted it to be her father, his brother. “That’s too bad, now we have to keep looking.”

The surface of the concrete floor changed from place to place. It could be sticky or slick; depending on how dry the blood that covered it was. Where the blood was pooled on the uneven floor it was still liquid and slick under the thin layer of solidified blood on top. You couldn't tell until you stepped in it.

I stepped in one slick place and almost fell. When I caught myself on a rotten wooden table it broke and crashed to the floor. I almost went with it.

The destruction of the table, and the new view of the floor allowed me to find him. There he was, Daddy, I think, he the only other person we're expecting out here. He was living and breathing - although not very well. He looked like a piece of hamburger meat down to his waist. There was a few of his guts visible through the cut accross his stomach.

The eyes moved wildly from side to side in the mass of skin-less meat. It looked like you had just taken fake eyes and stuffed them into three pounds of hamburger you just bought at the market. Hell, I couldn't tell if it was him or not.

I guess my mind was starting to accept the ghastly thing my eyes were sending. My reaction to the bloody mess on the floor was very callous. I couldn’t believe I was so nonchalant about this man’s painfully apparent situation.

Precious said. “Is that you, Will?” The mess tried to say something but he just spit little specks of blood and unintelligible words. The blood droplets fell back on his face and chest like rain.

I jumped when Linda took us by surprise saying in a lazy, disconnected way, “He doesn’t talk any more. He was too noisy and I had to cut off part of his tongue.”

I nodded as I looked at Precious and then back to Linda. “Why are you in here?”

She was still a little dazed. “Oh, I just wanted to tell you that you can’t hurt the head.”


She turned her sunglasses in my direction. “I want the head, the skull anyway, all together.” And then in a voice that sounded like it came from someone else she said coldly in what seemed like an order. “You can’t shoot him in the head.” She reverted back to a shy little girl’s voice. “I just want the head. You can put it in the sack with the other one.” She turned around and started out of the building.

I asked, “Precious, what's the deal with the head?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know for sure some religious thing to do with her Mama's people.”

I shook my head. “Are you going to do this?”

He said matter of fact and as if I was stupid for asking. “No, he is blood kin.” The situation was getting tense and he added in a snicker, “What little blood he has left.” He laughed a nervous little laugh.

He reached into his jacket pocket and handed me a 38. He said, “Use this.” I reached for the 38, checked to make sure it was loaded. Putting it as close to his chest as I could and remain standing I fired all six rounds into the chest where the heart was supposed to be. He flinched with each shot and his jerks knocked a piece of metal off a broken chair. It hit him in the right eye and lodged.

I didn't feel it, it was like a switch was turned off to my feelings, I felt absolutely nothing.

He tried to spit at me but blood just ran out the side of his mouth. I could see the hate in his remaining eye as it stared at me. The bastard was still breathing. This was starting to piss me off. “I need some more ammo.”

Precious answered and asked in one breath. “I have some in the car. Did you miss?”

I was really getting pissed now. But on the bright side I was feeling something. “Hell no, did I miss? I'm a foot away. Look at the holes in his chest.” I looked and it was hard to see the holes in the bloody mess, I squatted down, found one of the bullet holes and put my finger in it. “See.”

Linda had wandered back in. “Told you he wouldn’t die.”

Precious and I both jumped. He yelled. “Stop sneaking up on me.”

I asked. “Do you have any 38 bullets?”

I think she was expecting the question. “No. I’m out. I shot a whole box into him.”

I was shocked, “You shot this man fifty times and he's still alive?”

She nodded 'yes' as she handed me a broken butcher knife. The blade was only about two inches long and broke parallel with the hilt of the knife. She said almost as if it was a question “Maybe he'll die if we cut his head off.”

I looked down at this mess, hoping he had died. No such luck - He was still breathing.

She said sort of in a whine, “We're supposed to kill him and then take the head.” I looked up at her and she seemed to be in deep thought from what I could tell by the cracking dried blood that was her face.

Precious shrugged, “I don't think he'll care one way or another. It doesn't seem like he is in any pain.”

Linda jumped up and down a few times as she clapped her hands and only gave a slight notice to the 38 scabbed to her left hand. She said with a giggle, “He used to really jump when I would stick him with that cattle prod.” I looked up and she was smiling as a large flack of dried blood hinged away from her cheek and fell to the floor.

I just looked at her.

She sort of looked away, “We can't do it anymore - the batteries are dead.”

I began to feel dizzy.

Somehow I was standing back with Linda and Precious. Another guy was leaning over the mess. He looked up at me. He had no face. He was just a dark shadow. Words echoed in my head. ‘It’s better this way; it's better this way’ He began to cut the head off with the short butcher knife. It was very dull I could feel the drag as he tried to cut in shallow cuts.

The man said as he continued to cut the head away. “My cousin shocked me with one of those things once. I got so mad I stuffed it up his ass.” The man laughed and so did Linda. I remember that but it was my cousin not his. The man continued to hack away at the neck and hit the main artery that goes to the brain. A stream of blood spued over my head. I wondered how he had that much blood left. I reminisced out loud “I had to help his wife out for a month because he couldn't get it up.”

Linda was suddenly very angry. “You fucked his wife after you stuffed a cattle prod up his ass and broke him...” She just seemed to space out and was again in some kind of zombie like state. I looked toward Precious and by the look on his face he was in shock.

After several more cuts the faceless man go to the back bone and cut between two vertebrae - the head was off. I swear that one eye the head had blinked and moved. The piece of metal that was in the other eye fell to the floor making tingling, jingling kind of sound as it bounced a few times. The man put the head in the sack and handed it to me. I looked at the sack as I took it from him. I realized he was never there; I did this.

When I looked up again he was gone. I dropped the butcher knife on the floor and we left the building. I was starting to get very, very sick as I carried the burlap sack with the two heads in it to the car. My left knee felt weird and I looked to see what was on my pants. It was blood, I must have put that knee on the floor to brace myself as I cut the head off.

Precious hurried to the car, got a tarp out of the trunk and spread it over the back seat. Then he put a blanket over the tarp.

I helped Linda into the car. Her mind was somewhere else again. Precious took the can of gas from the trunk. I said with a soft laugh just trying to be sure I was alive, some contact with another person. “Do you have everything back there?”

He said in a joking way. “I wanted to be a Boy Scout. You know, always be prepared.” He laughed and went into the building. I got Linda in the car and started toward the building.

Precious silhouetted in the front door of the building. The smell of gas had overpowering the smell of rotting blood and flesh. I stopped as he walked away from the building and toward me. He continued back to where I was standing about twenty feet away from the building.

He got a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and took one out of the pack. Between the cellophane covering and the pack he had several wooden matches. He took one and lit the cigarette between his lips. He took a couple of puffs and then got another wooden match, took the cigarette from his mouth and stuffed the match head-first about half way into the unlit end of the cigarette.

He went back to the gas can and turned it on its side so the cigarette would lay at the filler opening and balanced it on the lip. He said. “It’s time to go. This place is going to go up like a box of matches.” We started to the car.

That guy with no face was standing there. A girl was with him. I couldn’t tell anything about her. I stopped as I got to them. The faceless Linda yelled. “Get in the damn car.” The faceless guy, which I now think is some part of me opened the door and the girl got in. She disappeared into Linda. Linda said, in that softer voice from before. “We need to go.”

The guy was in my way and I couldn’t reach the car. I tried to step around but he stepped into me and was gone. I felt relaxed and calm again like my feelings had been turned off. I got in the car and we drove off. As we drove away Linda got the head of her father out of the sack and cuddled it like a baby saying, “It'll be ok now, Daddy.”

I glared at Precious. “Why didn’t you put those damn things in the trunk?”

He said. “I did.”

Linda said in that soft serene voice. “I took them out. You can’t leave them alone.” She looked at us puzzled and added. “We haven’t said the words yet.” She didn’t say anything else, just cuddled that severed head; with that 38 scabbed to her hand. It's something I never thought I would see and I damn sure didn't want to.

We stopped where we could see the building and waited. It was a short wait. The building exploded and started to burn. We drove away. We went back to the station and Precious went inside. I stayed with Linda, mainly to keep her in the car. She was like a ten year old in a daze and became demanding. “I want an orange soda.” She started to get out but I wouldn’t let her.

She tried to get past me but I grabbed her. We scuffled, she hit me in the head with that scabbed over 38 and it damn sure hurt. I grabbed her hand and tried to calm her. After a while she asked in the tiniest voice, “I'll be good if you get me a orange soda.”

She promised to stay in the car while I went into the store and directly to the soda box. I waved the bottle at Precious as I left. I guess he paid for it. I got back to the car and gave Linda the soda.

She sat back in the seat, cuddling that head in her arm with the 38 attached to it. She took a drank of the soda with the other hand. When she took the bottle from her lips I could see that some of the blood had washed away and most likely into her mouth as she drank the soda. The small portion of her red lips that was showing reminded me of a Japanese's doll my sister once kept in a glass bell. Just a very small spot of red on a white face defined her lips. It was Hypnotizing.

Even though She smelled and looked like she had just crawled out of a grave. I couldn't take my eyes of the red place on her upper lip.

The screen door of the store slammed and broke the trance. I realized I couldn’t look much better off. I turned my head toward the store to see Precious walking back to the car.

Something moved in the drivers seat and I looked, it was the faceless man again. He put his shadowy arm on the back of the seat and looked to the back seat as the faceless woman's head seemed attached to Linda's shoulder and neck. He said, “Do you have a car out here?”

The faceless woman shook her head. “No it ran out of gas so I left it on the side of the road.”

He asked, can it be traced back to you?”

She again answered very cold “No I stole it.”

Precious opened the drivers door and slide into the car. The faceless man seemed to jump back into me. I jumped and tried to get away but the door was solid behind me. The faceless Linda said softly, “It'll be alright John, just relax.”

I looked back to see where Precious was and it sounded like a echo as his lips moved. “Are you alright, you look like you've seen a ghost.” I noticed as I looked closer I could see that there was even some blood on his face. He was the cleanest of us. He started the car and we drove away.

Linda, the faceless one, told him to drive west. Then she disappeared back into Linda's body and it was catatonic again. We drove about an hour before Precious pulled into the first place we saw that rented cabins. They only had two openings and he rented them. He drove over and parked in front of one and said. “I'll take the one across the road.” It was all like I was in a big empty space, the sounds seemed far away.

Linda was able to move on her own, but she wasn’t all here yet. I guided her into the cabin. Precious followed telling me. “There is a place down the road, I'll see if they have any soup. I should be back in a less than an hour.” He left the room and I heard the car start; he drove away.

Linda was still standing where I left her. I went into the bathroom. No tub, just a shower. I got the water warm took off my suit coat and shoes before I walked Linda into the shower. She just stood under the water. I think she was mad because we made her leave the heads in the car. The shower didn't seem to be doing much good although there was a red wash flowing off her body and down the drain.

I decided to try to take her clothes off. They were scabbed to her skin just like the gun was to her hand. Somewhere in the operation I began to feel normal. The gun fell free and bounced on the shower floor. I picked it up and put it in on the back of the toilet.

Trying to remove the clothes was like taking a giant scab off a wound. It was slow going.

The cabin had a kitchenette. I got a butcher knife from it and went back to the bathroom. The feel of the butcher knife in my hand took me back to the bloody mess and I shivered. I never wanted to see those faceless people again.

Precious was knocking on the door before I knew it.
I answered the door and said. “What did you forget?”

He sort of snapped back at me. “Nothing, I'm back.” He went to the kitchenette and started to unpack the food.

I went back to the bathroom to finish de-scabing Linda. All of her clothes were destroyed as I "skinned them off her." I cringed as I once again saw the scars on her back where her daddy used to whip her with a bull whip.

I used most of the bottle of shampoo that Precious brought back trying to get the solidified blood out of Linda’s hair. The scabs of dried blood would get softer but I still had to move them down her strait hair to the end to get them out of her hair.

After a couple of hours she was presentable again. And her hair was taking on it's original blond as it started to dry. I got one of my shirts and a pair of my underwear and put them on her. She was starting to help some by this time.

Precious had the soup made and I tried to feed her some of the broth while he went to his cabin and cleaned up. She ate most of a bowl of the broth but spit the vegetables on the floor.

When she stopped eating I walked her over and tucked her into bed. She began to shiver so I spread the extra blanket over her.

Precious came back over. He made a couple of sandwiches and got some of the soup. We ate as we talked and I told him about the guy at the building. He said. “It happens. Things like that happen when you're under a lot of pressure. Your brain sort of finds a way for you to do what you have to do. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” It was almost ten o'clock by this time and he yawned. “I'm going to get some sleep. See you in the morning.”

I nodded OK, and he left. I went in to take a shower, this time to clean up myself. Most of the real mess was washed off while I was cleaning Linda up. I was tired and so I went to bed in the other double bed. I hoped Linda was going to be ok.

Sometime during the night I heard Linda get out of bed. She went to the bathroom. After a few minutes I heard the water in the sink running and the toilet flush. This was a normal thing for normal people to do. Maybe she was all right now, but I wondered about later. I also wondered if I had put that butcher knife back in the kitchenette.

if you're writing over your readers head - tum etiam, ut graece scribens --- the secret of success changes;the truth of failure remains constant; if you try to please everyone you will fail.

Last edited by max crash; 09-11-2014 at 10:38 AM..
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Old 08-27-2014, 07:24 AM
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The full-monty, you have a very strong plot and subplot building here. But the little things make the story, like the setting and conflict.

It's an obvious crime scene. Your characterization of the building let's the reader know it should bear a Do Not Enter sign on the front facing side. A place noone should entertain. Effective approach to showing us the blood, the head, and the smells of the building.

The way the setting leads to the conflict shows a mastering of the art. Doing two things at one time makes for a more active exposition.

To improve maybe play round with the head a little more. Where you place the encounters with the head really will make the story. Even a little flashback of the image will make it more meaningful.
As the saying goes,
first the Dread,
so remember to Dream the Descent.
No despair- it is the Decision.
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max crash (08-27-2014)
Old 09-06-2014, 08:46 PM
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I like where this is going. it is very descriptive. All i can say beyond that is... Wow, i thought i was graphic and violent in my writing...
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