If you reading this it means that you can't quite look away and I have a final message to all of you who may be here.
Friday, June 16, 2017
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
Rising Dead Chapter One
Chapter One
Simon Frost’s small well-worn
civic ascends the one lane unpaved road that leads to the State Park lodge and
trail entrance. The journey that was
once so nerve racking has become second nature to him, and often not as
carefully driven as it should be. His
head bops in rhythm as he raps along to the stereo;
“And this is
like a miracle, to linger past your passing,
a blessing that’s lasting: a horde fast amassing.
Please forgive loved ones who aren’t missing you,
photo albums they’re not reminiscing through.
Remember what the preacher at your funeral said:
it isn’t quite a tragedy, you’re not quite dead...”
With the cabin coming into view Frost stops rapping and
pilots the civic over the gravel parking lot. He comes to a stop in the closest space to the
lodge, the one marked and reserved for the on duty ranger. Frost turns the car
off and feels a sense of relief as he always does that his car did not die on
the way to its destination. He steps out
of the civic and stretches while depositing his thick key ring into his
pocket. Frost then leans down and
reaches into the passenger seat from the open door. He grabs his official Ranger’s hat and places
it on his head. Next he grabs his extra-large
extra black coffee from Jimmy’s Grindhouse and places it on the roof of the civic. Frost shuts the unlocked front door then
opens the back door to retrieve his messenger bag. As he does he catches sight of his reflection
in the window. “I look like I’m in a
fucking costume.” He mumbles, still not
used to the look of the brown ranger’s uniform on him. He slings
the messenger bag over his shoulder and grabs the plastic shopping bag
containing his lunch. With the messenger
bag over his shoulder, his lunch in one hand and the coffee in the other Frost
moves toward the stairs leading up the porch to the Park’s main entrance. The lumber used on the porch and stairs has
sizable gaps between each plank and a sign beside the entrance lets visitors
know to be careful not to drop anything, as it could easily fall through the
cracks.
The old wooden steps creak under his weight as he makes his
way to the front door and realizes the key ring is in his pocket, again. With two fingers Frost awkwardly fishes into
his pocket with the hand holding his lunch bag to retrieve the keys. After fishing vainly for a moment he manages
to get a finger through the key ring. Slowly Frost brings the keys up and
shuffles them with his knuckles to try and take hold of the main entrance key. “I don’t know why we lock it, no one is ever
up here.” He mutters to himself in
frustration.
The key ring slips from his hand and Frost fumbles for
it. As he leans forward the top comes
off his coffee cup and the hot dark liquid splashes into his crotch before
spilling down his thighs. “Fuckin’ swell.” He says, watching the warm liquid’s steam
rising in the early morning air.
Frost throws the empty coffee cup past a trash can and a
sign reminding him this is a bag in-bag out park, then thanking him for his courtesy
in this manner. Even if he loses his
keys Frost knows he can get down on his ass and scoot through the basement
window, but would just rather not do that.
Frost’s knees creak as he slowly squats to see the key ring
hanging in the slot between two pieces of lumber, equally above and through the
gap. With two steady fingers Frost takes
hold of the warm coffee soaked ring and pulls up the keys. He rises awkwardly and then unlocks the main
entrance. The door opens and he steps
inside the Ranger’s Head Quarters moving toward the main desk.
Frost holds the wet keys away from his body with two fingers
as he moves past the giant taxidermy black bear. “Still no picnic basket?” He asks the bear as he does most mornings. “I thought you were smarter than the average
bear.” Once behind the desk Frost drops
off his lunch and messenger bag before heading to the small employee bathroom
at the end of a very narrow hall off the main room. In the hall leading to the bathroom on the left
there is a small staircase that leads up to emergency quarters in case any of
the rangers get stuck here due to weather.
Though in Frost’s case he suspects that it would be less likely due to incremental
weather, and much more likely due to his civics engine being
temperamental.
Frost moves past the doors on his right labeled ‘Bear Emergency’
and then ‘Communications’ room. A whisk
of air from the large floor level vent that leads into the basement causes
Frost to shiver as the coffee soaking his legs draws goose bumps from his skin.
The last door on the right is the bathroom, which reads simply, ‘Employees Only.’ Once inside Frost washes off the keys while
trying to avoid looking at the mirror above the sink. He has still not gotten anywhere near used to
the image of himself in the Ranger’s costume as he thinks of it.
A lifelong city boy Simon Frost has only held this state
park job for three months. While there
were elements from his urban home he missed, like not needing a car, he could
no longer deal with the people. With a
BA in social work Frost had grown tired of watching the droves of depressed
souls that entered the Welfare building every day. The unending stream of shit stories was just
overwhelming, and he knew based on the available data the trend would only continue.
The few people he could genuinely help were but a few droplets of water in a
large bucket that was his workload.
On his off hours he drank with what he called his friends
but now considered enablers as they all shit deservedly on their bosses, and
lamented their comfortable existences. No
one had any real hobbies or interests so they created social drama that Simon
always seemed to be policing and fixing.
While he cared for his girlfriend, the two had been drifting
apart physically and emotionally for years. With each passing day they were
more and more consumed with their jobs, but they had created a no work talk at
home rule. This left little else to do
but go drinking with their mutual acquaintances and watch TV, though they would
always compromise and neither was ever watching what they wanted to. Sexually they had been growing distant long
before Simon’s metabolism slowed to that of an adult and the obscene amount of
bar food and beer began to take up permanent space on his ass and gut. As they began to go out separately Simon had
learned that she had been seeing and having sex with another man, and he
noticed her mood and demeanor improving.
Without ever letting her know he knew Simon said that they should spend
some time apart and offered to move out.
After crashing on a co-worker’s couch for a week he had found, applied
to and been accepted over the phone for his current ranger’s job.
On his way back to the front desk Frost looks down, peeling
his pant legs away from his thighs, and remembers the spilt coffee. Once behind the desk Frost sits down and kicks
off his boots. Next he slides off his pants and leaves them in a soppy pile
beneath the desk, and him in his Batman boxers.
Next he pulls his lunch, a chicken salad out of the plastic grocery bag
and places it in the small fridge behind him, next to the old CB radio and the
window overlooking the park. The view
allows him to see the ranger’s storage shed beside a tall thick oak tree. Past this are three marked paths for
beginners, intermediates and the advanced.
With his lunch away Frost turns
to the main desk and out of habit searches briefly for his coffee, before
remembering why he isn’t wearing any pants.
After cursing his poor short term memory Frost slides his
wheeled high backed office chair to a nearby filing cabinet and pulls out his
coffee maker. He sets the machine on the
desk, fills it with grounds before getting up and returning to the bathroom to
fill the pot with water.
With the whirring and bubbling as the machine brews behind
him, Frost again remembers about his pants, or his lack of pants, which is when
the front door opens and he realizes the day had officially began.
Wednesday, April 27, 2016
Rising Dead Prologue
Rising Dead
M.R. Gott
Prologue
Scratching at his receding hairline and dressed in a black
short sleeve button down shirt, Howard Pace drove his family’s old hearse up
the narrow drive that runs parallel to the state park. His powerful forearms twitch as he guides the
old car down the uneven road, if you can really call it that. The path is an ancient family secret, hidden consciously
and carefully through a collection of deliberately planted shrubs and
bushes. Decades ago his grandfather had thought
of this cost cutting measure for the family business, and his father had taught
him when he was old enough. World
willing, Howard hopes to find a woman altruistic enough to accept his ejaculate
without payment or birth control so he can pass the information along to the
resulting kid, but as the years pass it feels more and more unlikely to him.
In the funeral business cremation is a cost consuming bitch. As awful as these trips are, they are worth
it for the company’s bottom line. The
fact that Howard can and has charged for the same coffin dozens of times is
another huge source for saving money, and burning a fine wood crafted coffin is
the real crime he tells himself.
With his hands gripping the wheel tightly, Howard drives the
hearse with practiced precision under a jagged and narrow rock ledge. Hidden from the sun in the cavern the vehicle
comes to a stop. Howard steps from the car
and adjusts his black tie before moving to the back of the hearse. He pulls the rear latch opening the
door. From inside the foul odor of rot immediately
hits him. “Fuck, I should not have put
this off.” He curses himself.
The hearse is filled to the brim with rotting corpses piled
to the vehicle’s roof. Howard had
already charged bereaved family members for the cremation of these bodies. The urns he had then given them contained
nothing more than soot from his home fireplace. Casually Howard leans into the
vehicle, and grabs the body at the top of the heap. It is an old man whose name he can’t remember. His hands wrap easily around the corpse’s
thin ankles and Howard jerks hard using his body weight to pull the corpse. The body comes loose from the hearse. The corpse’s head slams onto the uneven rock ground
with an audible popping sound that echoes in the enclosed space. Howard drags the cadaver unceremoniously toward
a dark ravine, ripping some of the decayed skin from the dead man’s face as he
does. The only light around him comes
from the tunnel’s entrance concealing the space in near darkness. Soon Howard reaches his destination, the
ledge his family has been dumping bodies down for three generations. With rehearsed and refined movement, Howard
bends his knees, arches his back and swings the cadaver into the chasm.
Contentedly he watches it roll down the embankment and into the darkness below. The corpse rolls from sight and Howard hears
it building speed before coming to a stop.
The odor from the freshly disturbed pit is rancid and wafts upward. Howard curls his nose in disgust before
returning to the hearse.
“Ah Mrs. Lawrence I remember you. Your daughter was a really hot bitchy
chick.” Howard says as he grabs the dead
woman’s ankles and pulls her out of the hearse, banging her head on the ground
as he did with the last corpse. Again
the rotting skin is peeled off from the uneven rocky ground as Howard drags the
cadaver to the precipice. At the ledge
Howard breathes deeply in exhaustion, feeling his age beginning to catch up
with him. He takes a moment to think
about how his son or daughter should be here doing this with him. Corpse tossing is a young person’s game
Howard tells himself. Bending his knees
Howard prepares to toss the corpse when he feels something wrap tightly around
his ankle.
The sense of pressure builds, moving from discomfort to
pain. Howard painfully squints through
the dark shadows. He sees a rotting hand
moving up the ledge of the pit, and another gripping his leg. The flesh around the hand’s fingers has
nearly rotted completely away and Howard sees damp marrow glisten, reflecting
the dull light from the tunnel’s entrance.
The grip of the fingers tightens, digging into Howard’s leg. Then it pulls hard. Losing his balance Howard drops Mrs. Lawrence
and falls back, smacking the back of his head on the stone floor. Dazed, Howard blinks quickly trying to regain
his focus, and he feels the warm sensation of blood begin to drip through his
thinning hair. The hold on his ankle is
still strong and he feels it pull sharply.
Howard rolls over the ledge and tumbles down the rocky incline. Jagged bits of stone tear through his clothes,
drawing blood as he descends into the corpse filled abyss. The cool rock underneath him turns to
something soft, and wet. The surface
will not support his weight and Howard feels himself sinking in the
encompassing darkness he tries to stand.
His movement and weight causes him to drop deeper and he feels his legs
sink through cool, wet putrefying organic matter. When the rotting flesh reaches his upper
thigh he stops sinking. Beneath him he
can feel the bottom of the pit. Howard’s
body shivers in a combination of fear and cold.
Cutting past the chill running through his body, he feels slivers of
warmth move over him, climbing between the buttons of his shirt and trailing across
his skin. Howard fumbles as he reaches
into his pocket and takes hold of his cell phone. He flips it open. The dim light cuts through the gloom and
reveals his surroundings. Looking down
at his body he sees that the fingers of warmth are countless maggots moving
over his body.
There is no stillness around him. Howard witnesses three
generations worth of decomposing bodies writhe.
Their hands move like a roaring sea, reaching up to claim him. Through the bodies he notices one of the
corpses coming toward him faster than the others. Its mouth is open revealing missing teeth,
and a rotting jaw. Howard launches a
fist into it and feels the soft decayed flesh contort against his thick knuckles.
Howard knows he needs to escape. Moving the light from his cell phone in each
direction he is soon able to determine where he fell from, slowly he begins to
move toward safety. Every step is a
struggle and he moves as quickly as possible toward the incline. A withered cadaver moves on all fours above
the soft flesh toward Howard and unseen from the darkness reaches out and
clamps its jaws down on his arm.
Screaming, Howard pulls sharply away from the painful
sensation. The corpse’s jaw is clamped
down and rips a chunk of his flesh away as his arm moves from its mouth. Unable to process the image before him Howard’s
body begins to spasm and he feels bile rising in the back of his throat. The
rotted cadaver is sloppily chewing a bloody hunk of his forearm in its mouth. Bits of gnawed flesh fall from its slack jaw. Howard vomits and his entire body convulses
as warm chunks of a partially digested meal dribble down his chin. The pain in his stomach shakes away his
fear. Enraged, Howard lashes out at it
and feels his blow connect with a wet pop beneath his knuckles. Its full mouth of flesh erupts like a popped
zit from force and dribbles down its emaciated form. Howard’s anger fades and he turns quickly
from the horror of the site and continues toward the incline to escape. As he slogs through the horde of decaying
corpses they snap at him incessantly.
Some come away with chunks of his body, other only meet his fists. Others still take hold of him and are dragged
along.
Reaching forward Howard grips the rocky incline and pulls
his body from the organic sludge around it. His legs come loose and he feels bodies fall
from him and back into the stew behind him.
Abandoning his phone Howard frantically begins to climb. Behind him they follow.
Hand over hand, Howard’s progress is slow but steady. Every so often he shakes his legs, freeing
himself from the grasp of a corpse until he finally feels the ledge above
him. Howard wraps his fingers tightly around
the rough rocky surface and hoists his body up over the precipice. With his torso above the drop he leans
forward and rolls toward the hearse.
Looking over he sees shadowed empty eye sockets rise above
the ledge after him. “Fuck.” He curses as he pushes against the ground
and rises to his feet. In a few quick
steps he reaches his car and yanks open the hearses’ driver’s side door. Sitting down he feels his wet clothes press
against his skin and the sensation of the maggots exploding from the pressure
on his bare skin. The sensation of cold and warm dampness sends convulsions
through his entire body. Howard gags
while turning the ignition key. The ancient engine wheezes before turning over
and the hearse comes to life. Howard puts
the vehicle in reverse and cuts the wheel hard spinning the car around. While shifting the vehicle into drive Howard
checks his rearview mirror.
He sees an escaped horde moving from the pit in steady
lumbering steps toward his vehicle. The
bodies he brought in the back begin to twitch and Howard slams the gas pedal
down hard. The remaining corpses fly through
the open rear door of hearse.
“Fuck em’.” Howard mumbles gaining speed steadily, needing
to be away from here. The corpses roll
in clumps of dusts behind the fleeing hearse.
Even with the bodies no longer present in his rearview mirror Howard’s
fear continues to grow and he presses down harder on the car’s accelerator. The vehicle’s suspension creaks as it bounces
on the uneven terrain. With the main
drive approaching rapidly Howard cuts the wheel hard and to the right without
slowing down. He feels the weight of the
vehicle shift onto two tires, and then the entire hearse crashes onto its side
and begins to roll. Howard’s body slams
around in the cab and he loses consciousness right before the hearse collides
with a large tree.
***
Further up the main road Cindy giggles as she pushes aside a
few branches and hurries to the concealed foot trail. Behind her Mark pulls out an equipment bag,
duffle bag and tripod before he shuts the station wagon’s trunk. When she can hear Mark hurrying to catch up
behind her Cindy reaches down to the bottom of her t-shirt and pulls it over
her head.
Smiling she turns to Mark and tosses him the shirt. He catches it and says. “We’re not to the spot
yet.”
Cindy pinches one of her exposed nipples and massages it to
a fine point. She watches Mark’s eyes take
in her hard nipple and she enjoys the mischievous smile that is always on his
face right before it happens.
Turning from him she unties the bikini bottoms she is
wearing and lets them fall to the ground, before bending over slowly to pick
them up. Bent over she looks back at
Mark, past her ass and smiles coyly saying, “Its naked time and I want to feel
two things on me right now, the warm sun and your eyes.”
She tosses the bikini bottoms to Mark who says, “I will do
my part, but sometimes what’s on you soon is in you as well.”
“Such sweet promises.” Cindy giggles leading the way to a
clearing at the top of the trail. The
clearing has a view that looks down at the State Park. Cindy stands naked at the edge of the precipice
looking down and savoring the feel of the cool breeze on her sun warmed
skin. Behind her she can hear Mark
unpacking their supplies, laying out the blanket and then his footsteps as he
moves toward her. She feels his strong
callused hands take hold of her hips.
Arching her back she rubs her ass against him, feeling him swell beneath
his pants as he bites down tenderly on her neck.
Rolling from him she steps away and looks him over with an
exaggerated motion before shaking her head.
“Honey,” she laments playfully. “You
said we could have naked time, and here you are dressed.”
Mark quickly pulls his shirt over his head as Cindy crouches
before him and begins to undo his pants. Mark pulls off his shirt and tosses it
aside. Cindy looks over her shoulder
briefly to see the red light blinking of the video recorder on the tripod
behind her. After pulling Mark’s pants
from his legs, Cindy nuzzles the tip of Mark’s cock and lightly strokes his
base before she stands up and steps away from him. She watches his erection twitch upward before
she turns to grab the digital camera from their bag. He waves excitedly to her and she
smiles.
“Turn sideways.” She
says while gesturing with her hand. Mark
obliges, but keeps his eyes on Cindy as she looks through the camera’s view
finder.
“Arch you back a little and move your left leg back just a
hair.” To Cindy the image is
amazing. The sun is rising behind her
nude husband. His body is framed perfectly by the light, as his cock reaches
toward the sky. She snaps the picture,
trying to think of a place in the house to have it framed where company won’t
see it.
Cindy continues to take pictures until she feels a gust of
wind against her tingling body that takes her breath away. With the video camera still recording behind
her she puts the digital camera down and lies on the blanket Mark spread out
earlier. Cindy’s back is on the ground
as are her heels. Through her open legs
she watches Mark move toward her. The
sight is one of her all-time favorites, him walking toward her, his hard cock
bobbing with each step.
Mark slides himself between her open legs. Cindy is so wet
he enters easily. For Mark and Cindy
there is only this moment, where beyond their deep mutual physical attraction
they feel totally and emotionally connected as well. The sound of Mark’s steady thrusts are soon
accompanied by Cindy’s rising moans of pleasure. Through the blanket she can feel the rough
ground below, pricking her tingling body.
Mark’s hands cup her face, and he looks deep into her eyes, his gaze is as
penetrating as his thrusts inside her.
Cindy takes all of it in, cherishing each sensation coursing through her
body.
Past the couple and moving up the cliff’s face a corpse
begins to pull itself past the ledge. Unaware
of the creature Mark looks deeply into Cindy’s eyes, knowing she is close. Her hands move to his ass, cupping his tense
muscles as he moves in and out of her.
Moaning feebly Cindy feels herself about to cum. Mark bends down sliding his tongue into her open
mouth as Cindy’s body succumbs to her orgasm.
The walking corpse crouches, moving downward toward the couple. Awash in her orgasm Cindy’s legs flails out
and catches the cadaver hard in the face.
The blow sends it plummeting down the side of the ledge.
Mark groans as Cindy wraps her flailing legs around Mark’s
waist, keeping his body tight against hers and feeling him empty himself into
her with a groan. Cindy kisses his cheek
keeping her legs wrapped snuggly around his waist, still savoring the feel of
him inside her. “You really needed that,
didn’t you?”
Mark kisses her cheek.
“You are so amazing.”
“I know,” she says loosening her legs. Mark rolls off of her and they hold hands while
blissfully watching the sun rise.
Saturday, February 20, 2016
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Saturday, January 9, 2016
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
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