‘The Ancestors,’ a Horror Story, Chapter Eight

After thoroughly checking all of the rooms on the second and third floors, Mr. Dan and Doug approached the bathroom, where Mr. Sandy had been before he was killed.

“Oh, no–now I have to use the can,” Doug said, then went in.

After he closed the door, Mr. Dan thought, And I have to find something just right for you, young man.

But first, he pulled down the attic stairs, then went up them. He peeked his head in, hearing Emily still cleaning up the blood.

“You just about finished up here?” he asked in Chinese.

“Almost,” she said in Chinese. “Just a little more to wipe up.”

“Well, hurry up,” he said. “I’m taking Hannah’s brother up here. He’s in the bathroom. He’s taking his time in there; I guess it’s a number two, but who knows? Maybe not. I’ll send something up to you. Wait to get it, but hurry with the cleaning!”

He went back down, heard Doug fart and grunt, and he surmised that, indeed, it had to be a number two. He’d have a little more time to find…something just right for Doug.

He went into a room next to the one with the boxes, looked around impatiently, and found a baseball bat. He heard some shuffling steps out in the hallway. Oh, no, he thought, Hannah’s brother. Then after a worried pause, he opened the door and looked out.

Nobody out in the hall.

The bathroom door was still closed.

Was Doug still crapping in there?

Mr. Dan went up to the bathroom door to listen. He heard another fart, the slipping out of shit, and a horrible stink.

He squished up his face in disgust, but was relieved that Doug was still in there and suspected nothing. Mr. Dan went up the attic steps with the baseball bat.

“Emily,” he called.

“What?” she said with surprise, looking back at him from the corner where she’d just finished cleaning. “I thought you were already up here. I heard–“

“No, not yet,” he said, then presented the bat. “Put this over there, then get out of here.”

She took the bat, put it in the corner opposite where she’d been cleaning, and rushed over to the attic stairs.

“I’ve got to clean all this blood off my–” she began as she went down the stairs.

“Shh!” he said. “Hurry up and get out of here before he comes out of the bathroom!”

She went down the hall and took the stairs to the second floor. As soon as she’d disappeared, Doug came out of the bathroom.

Mr. Dan let out a sigh of relief.

“What are you so relieved about, Mr. Dan?” Doug asked, looking askance at him.

“Oh, nothing,” Mr. Dan said with a smile and a slightly nervous chuckle. “I was just getting a little impatient waiting for you to finish, that’s all. Sorry about that.” He gestured to the pulled down attic stairs. “Shall we look in the attic now? It’s the only place we haven’t looked.”

“OK.”

They went up into the attic, Doug first.

He heard moaning in one corner of the attic and rushed over to see. “Dad? Mom?” he called out.

Meanwhile, Mr. Dan sneaked over to the other corner, picked up the bat where he’d seen Emily leave it, and hid it behind his legs by the time Doug looked back.

“There’s nobody here,” Doug said. “I heard moaning right from here, but there’s no source for the moans.”

“Really?” Mr. Dan said. “There’s a lot of shadow behind all those boxes. Look again.”

“I’m looking at the shadow behind the boxes, but there’s nothing–wait, under that blanket over there.”

As Doug was approaching it, Mr. Dan raised the bat over his head. “Goodbye, Doug,” he said in a female voice.

“Emily, are you up here?” Doug asked as he pulled back the blanket, revealing his parents’ bloody bodies. He gasped, his eyes widening.

“No, not Emily,” Mr. Dan said in that woman’s voice.

“Mei’s voice,” a young man said from behind Mr. Dan, who turned around to see who it was.

Now he gasped, his eyes widening.

Al swung the axe right at his father’s chest. Blood sprayed out when it dug deep into him.

Mr. Dan fell to the floor, the bat dropping and hitting him on the head. His blood grew into a large puddle all over the floor.

“Al, Jesus fuck!” Doug said. “How could you do that?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Al panted. “That’s for sure. I’m so sorry, Papa.” He bent down and closed his father’s eyes. “Goodbye. Forgive me. I had no choice.” He rose to his feet.

“Why would you kill your own dad, Al?”

“To stop him from bashing your brains in with that bat, of course.”

“What? Al, this is so fucked up! What’s going on? Why would your family…wanna kill my family? Oh, God…Mom, Dad…” He looked back at his parents’ corpses with tears forming in his eyes.

“Because the spirits of my ancestors are taking possession of my family’s bodies to take you all as sacrifices, so my ancestors won’t bother Hannah and me anymore,” Al said in a cold, monotone voice.

“What? What horseshit are you talking about?”

“My family stopped praying to the spirits of our ancestors years ago,” Al explained. “The spirits got angry because of this disrespect, and they’ve been plaguing our family ever since.” He put the axe down on the floor beside him, next to the bat.

“Spirits, Al?” Doug asked, looking at him with a sneer. “Seriously? Let’s face it: You’re a family of homicidal nutjobs. No offence intended to Chinese people in general, but I don’t want you anywhere near my sister!”

“I love Hannah more than anything, and I’m truly sorry for what happened to your parents,” Al said in sobs. “The spirits forced me to agree with this, so I could marry her one day and we could live in peace. If they know I’ve broken the agreement, they–“

“Fuck you, Al, you and your fucked-up family!” Doug bawled.

Al was silent as Doug looked down at his parents’ bodies and wept for them.

“Oh, no…NO!” Al suddenly said.

“What?” Doug said.

But before Doug could turn his head back and see what was going on, he felt a crack of the baseball bat on his head, knocking him out.

Two Five-Star Reviews for ‘Nature Triumphs’!

Nature Triumphs: a Charity Anthology of Dark Speculative Literature has recently received two five-star reviews. Scroll down the Amazon page to read them yourself, or read them here:

Avid reader called the anthology “Fun, Appealing, Scary, Thought-Provoking Eco-Horror Fiction–And Just in Time for Halloween)

“I loved this wonderful, big, entertaining, appealing, fun book –scary AND heartfelt eco-horror anthology. Exceptionally well-edited containing many varietal, well-written, vivid, horrifying stories and poems by diverse, established authors. Innovative concept/environmental/ecological/nature theme masterfully executed. I especially like stories “Yard Work” by Michael Errol Swaim, “Blood Rose” by Alison Armstrong, “One Side of a Conservation with Mother Nature” by Kyle Heger, “A Reversal of Fortune” by JG Faherty, and “last Call at the Garden of Eden” by Lamont A. Turner. I like that the money goes to The Nature Conservancy. Great book/gift for Halloween and for lovers/readers of horror, sci fi, dark speculative, ecological/ nature fiction and poetry.”

Jordan Francis called it “A beautiful and haunting Anthology for a great cause“.

“A beautiful and haunting Anthology. This collection of short stories and poems is amazing. It is at turns haunting, funny, and beautiful. This has introduced me to a multitude of great writers that i need to go back and check out their other works. Definitely worth the price of admission.”

Recall that my story, “The Bees,” is about a geneticist/beekeeper who, fed up with the world’s indifference to the dying off of the bees, does genetic alterations of the many bees he takes care of. He weaponizes them, making them bigger, stronger, smarter, and more lethal, capable of stinging their victims many times until they die. Can he be stopped, or will his enhanced bees multiply and tyrannize the world?

I really hope you’ll all go out and get yourselves a copy of this collection. It’s all for a good cause, and you’ll love the stories and poetry! 🙂

‘Symptom of the Universe’ is Published!

Symptom of the Universe: A Horror Tribute to Black Sabbath is finally published on Amazon Kindle. The paperback is $19.99. It will also be released on Godless on September 22nd.

Here is a link to the Amazon e-book. Here is a link to the paperback. Here is a link to its wide distribution as an e-book.

Here is a blurb from Dark Moon Rising Publications, the anthology’s publisher:

“From the publisher who brought you Nature Triumphs: A Charity Anthology of Dark Speculative Literature, Dark Moon Rising presents Symptom of the Universe: A Horror Tribute to Black Sabbath A worldwide gathering of award winning horror authors have come together to craft a collection of dark fiction stories covering every album and every era of Black Sabbath. Each story is inspired by one of Black Sabbath’s greatest songs from the biggest hits to the most obscure album tracks. SYMPTOM OF THE UNIVERSE: A HORROR TRIBUTE TO BLACK SABBATH is an immediate classic for rock fans and horror fans alike. Featuring the talents of Stewart Giles, J. Rocky Colavito, Sidney Williams, Tom Lucas, Thomas R. Clark, Ezekiel Kincaid, Neil Kelly, Tony Millington and many more, curated and edited by J.C. Maçek III with a foreword by Martin Popoff, Symptom of the Universe will whet your appetite for horror and rock at the same time.

“All proceeds are being donated to the Dio Cancer Fund.

“Trigger warnings: Themes of addiction, mental health, and self-harm

“Are you ready for a rocking read??”

Recall that my short story, ‘NIB,’ based on the song, of course, is in this collection. It’s about a drug user, Terry, whose drug dealer has given him some powerful dope combined with witchcraft. While he’s tripping, she seduces him, unwittingly triggering childhood trauma in him and putting him through a nightmarish experience that could kill him.

Please check it out. The ebook is only $3.14. You’ll love it!

I’ve already read a number of the stories, and I can tell you that this is a quality collection. One story runs the gamut of the mundane life of a homeless junkie all the way to a nuclear apocalypse. Another story involves wrestlers in an antiwar allegory. Yet another story is an erotic horror story with two femmes fatales. And yet another story turns a suicide into a revengeful homicide.

You won’t regret buying this anthology. Go get it!

‘Nature Triumphs’ is Published!

Nature Triumphs: a Charity Anthology of Dark Speculative Literature, is now published on Amazon, and is available in ebook here. It’s also available on Godless, where it’s now made the Top Ten!

This anthology is a collection of horror short stories and poetry edited by Alison Armstrong and Pixie Bruner, and presented by Dark Moon Rising Publications. The charity is dedicated to helping save the environment.

My short story is called ‘The Bees.’ It’s about a geneticist/beekeeper who, fed up with the world’s indifference to the dying off of the bees, does genetic alterations of the many bees he takes care of. He weaponizes them, making them bigger, stronger, smarter, and more lethal, capable of stinging their victims many times until they die. Can he be stopped, or will his enhanced bees multiply and tyrannize the world?

All the talented writers in this anthology include Angela Acosta, M.G. Allen, Alison Armstrong, Lilse Asalt, Andrew Bell, Katie Brunecz, Pixie Bruner, Ramsey Campbell, J. Rocky Colavito, Rebecca Cuthbert, Julie Dron, Stephanie Ellis, Timons Esaias, J.G. Faherty, Thomas Folske, Brian U. Garrison, Elana Gomel, Alejandro Gonzales, Norbert Góra, [myself], Sebastian Gray, Megan Guilliams, Linda Kay Hardie, Kyle Heger, Kristi Hendricks, Kasey Hill, Larry Hodges, Akua Lezli Hope, Sandra Lindow, Gordon Linzner, J.C. Maçek III, Victor Malone, John C. Mannone, David C. Kopaska-Merkel, Makena Metz, Edward Morris, Irena Barbara Nagler, Kris Nelson, Kevin Sandefur, Em Starr, Michael Errol Swaim, Rob Tannahill, Lamont A. Turner, and Mary A. Turzillo.

Please come check our book out, and help us to help the environment in a fun, scary way. I’m sure you’ll love the stories and poems in this collection! They totally rock!

My Short Story, ‘Sing, Sing, Sing,’ in the Anthology, ‘Psalms of the Alien Buddha #3, The Final Track

Psalms of the Alien Buddha #3, the Final Track is a new anthology of poetry and prose published by Alien Buddha Press. I have a horror short story in it, called “Sing, Sing, Sing.”

The story is about two eighteen-year-old girls in a high school jazz band who love a jazz clarinetist, Woody, who is almost ten years older than them, and who is creepy enough to want to fool around with them. The first of these two girls, Claire, is jealous of Hedda, the second girl, for stealing Woody, and Claire wants to get revenge on Hedda. Claire also knows how to use magic, so that will be how she achieves her revenge. Now, when she achieves her revenge, will all be well with her, or will she have to deal with some bad karma because of it?

Of course, there are many other talented writers of prose and poetry in this anthology. I’m hoping you can read all their names on the back cover presented above. The paperback is now available on Amazon for $14.99. Go check it out: I’m sure you’ll love it!

‘Nature Triumphs,’ an Upcoming Horror Anthology, Includes a Short Story by Me…’The Bees’

Nature Triumphs: a Charity Anthology of Dark Speculative Literature, is an upcoming collection of horror short stories and poetry edited by Alison Armstrong and Pixie Bruner, and presented by Dark Moon Rising Publications. The charity is dedicated to helping save the environment.

My short story is called ‘The Bees.’ It’s about a geneticist/beekeeper who, fed up with the world’s indifference to the dying off of the bees, does genetic alterations of the many bees he takes care of. He weaponizes them, making them bigger, stronger, smarter, and more lethal, capable of stinging their victims many times until they die. Can he be stopped, or will his enhanced bees multiply and tyrannize the world?

All the talented writers in this anthology include Angela Acosta, M.G. Allen, Alison Armstrong, Lilse Asalt, Andrew Bell, Katie Brunecz, Pixie Bruner, Ramsey Campbell, J. Rocky Colavito, Rebecca Cuthbert, Julie Dron, Stephanie Ellis, Timons Esaias, J.G. Faherty, Thomas Folske, Brian U. Garrison, Elana Gomel, Alejandro Gonzales, Norbert Góra, [myself], Sebastian Gray, Megan Guilliams, Linda Kay Hardie, Kyle Heger, Kristi Hendricks, Kasey Hill, Larry Hodges, Akua Lezli Hope, Sandra Lindow, Gordon Linzner, J.C. Maçek III, Victor Malone, John C. Mannone, David C. Kopaska-Merkel, Makena Metz, Edward Morris, Irena Barbara Nagler, Kris Nelson, Kevin Sandefur, Em Starr, Michael Errol Swaim, Rob Tannahill, Lamont A. Turner, and Mary A. Turzillo.

The anthology drops on September 3rd, and they’re doing preorders now on Amazon and everywhere. Please come check it out, and help us to help the environment in a fun, scary way. I’m sure you’ll love the stories and poems in this collection!

‘Symptom of the Universe: A Horror Tribute to Black Sabbath,’ an Upcoming Anthology I Have a Short Story to be Published In

Symptom of the Universe: A Horror Tribute to Black Sabbath is the name of a new anthology of horror short stories, presented by Dark Moon Rising Publications, edited by J.C. Macek III, and with a foreword by Martin Popoff, the Canadian music journalist and critic. As the title implies, the stories are all inspired by Black Sabbath songs.

My story is named “NIB,” so you shouldn’t have a problem figuring out which song my story is inspired by (though it makes references to a whole lot of other Sabbath songs, albums, covers, etc). It begins with this line: “My drug dealer’s in love with me.” I hope that will pique your curiosity about where the story will be heading…a wild, surreal, and disturbing ride through the mind of a traumatized drug addict whose latest trip is more than just that–a paranoid nightmare that might involve witchcraft, and just might kill him.

The book will be published on September 18th. It’s available for preorder on Amazon.

Here, apart from me, are the names of all the talented authors to be included in the anthology: Rob Tannahill, David L. Tamarin, J. Rocky Colavito, Neil Sanzari, Sidney Williams, Don Webb, John Claude Smith, Rhys Hughes, Edward Morris, Tom Folske, Duane Pesice, Tom Lucas, J.C. Macek III, Gail Ice, Rhys Hughes again, J.C. Macek III again, Daniel E. Lambert, Bert Edens, Shayne Keen, Scott Couturier, Thom Erb, Stewart Giles, Jayaprakash Satyamurthy, J.C. Macek III yet again, Emmy Viane, Tom Folske again, Jason R. Frei, Thomas R. Clark, Keith Keesler and J.C. Macek III, Melissa Howard Corrigan, John Reti, J.C. Macek III, Ezekiel Kincaid, Kasey Hill, J.C. Macek III again, John Sowder, Tony Millington, and Neil Kelly. Note that several authors contributed more than one story, and a few stories are collaborations.

I really hope you’ll go out and buy yourself a copy of this new anthology. It’s a charity anthology, with all the proceeds going to the Dio Cancer Fund. It’s also going to be a really great set of stories. I’m sure it’ll knock your socks off!

My Short Story, ‘The Harvest,’ Is Now Published in This Alien Buddha Press Anthology

They’re Conspiring Against the Alien Buddha Too! is now published on Amazon, and here’s a link to it. My short story, ‘The Harvest,’ is on page 52 in the anthology. The paperback is $16.99.

Other writers who have written great stories and poetry for the anthology are Aishwariya Laxmi, E.W. Farnsworth, Lynn White, L.B. Sedlacek, James Schwartz, Zachary Kocanda, Mark Heathcote, Tulpa Fedrodianna-McAngophora, Robert J.W., (my story comes next in this order), Joan McNerney, Andrew K. Arnett, Brian Simmons, Cliff McNish, D. Rudd-Mitchell, Robert Walton, J. Rocky Colavito, Joseph Farley, Bryan Franco, Nick Romeo, Buck Weiss, James Dorr, Mark Lipman, Brendan Jesus, Roberta Beach Jacobson, Shannon O’Connor, and Collin J. Rae.

Please go check out this great anthology, now that it’s out!

Publication of ‘They’re Conspiring Against The Alien Buddha Too!,’ by Alien Buddha Press, on July 4th

This is to announce the publication of a new anthology of short stories about conspiracies, called They’re Conspiring Against The Alien Buddha Too! It’s being published by Alien Buddha Press, the same people who published–in a poetry collection–a few poems of mine, namely ‘Gaza’ and ‘Stomping,’ and who will publish my novella, The Targeter, in a few weeks, too.

In this particular anthology of short stories, I have one included, called ‘The Harvest.’ Other writers in the anthology are Aishwariya Laxmi, E.W. Farnsworth, Lynn White, L.B. Sedlacek, James Schwartz, Zachary Kocanda, Mark Heathcote, Tulpa Fedrodianna-McAngophora, Robert J.W., (my story comes next in this order), Joan McNerney, Andrew K. Arnett, Brian Simmons, Cliff McNish, D. Rudd-Mitchell, Robert Walton, J. Rocky Colavito, Joseph Farley, Bryan Franco, Nick Romeo, Buck Weiss, James Dorr, Mark Lipman, Brendan Jesus, Roberta Beach Jacobson, Shannon O’Connor, and Collin J. Rae.

I want to thank Red, Dave, and any- and everybody else involved in Alien Buddha Press for including ‘The Harvest’ in this publication. Remember, Dear Readers, to check out this book on Amazon on the 4th of July, a date so easy to remember!

‘Primal Scream,’ a Sci-fi Short Story

When the loud, rumbling thud came just a while away from the house where ten-year-old Ted lived on his parents’ farm, he shook even more than the ground did. He turned off the TV, rose from the living room sofa, and ran out the front door to see where the thud had come from.

He ran across a field of wheat, a rolling hill just by the house. At the far end of the field he saw a huge rock that hadn’t been there before.

That must’ve been what made that shaking, and that noise, he thought as he kept running towards it.

When he finally reached the rock, he tumbled and fell right on it, smacking his hands and knees against it. He looked down at his knees, which hurt; his jeans were cut there, with bloody cuts on both knees.

“Ow!” he grunted. “Mom and Dad are gonna kill me when they see these holes in my pants.”

Suddenly, he felt a stinging burn on his left hand, making him wince and pull his arm off the rock. It felt like a spark that had flown out of a campfire and hit him on the hand; but he looked at his hand and saw no mark. Whatever it was, it had to have been too small to be visible, or it had left as quickly as it got there.

He looked back at the rock. His eyes could barely make out something on it, thousands of things that, each taken individually, would have been as invisible as whatever had come onto his hand, but all together, looked like a kind of mist, or many wisps of hair. They seemed to be making a buzzing sound, as if they were insects.

He found the sound disturbing, and he began to worry that he might have caught germs and would get sick from the rock, so he let himself fall back onto the grass to distance himself from the rock, then he got up and ran back in the direction of the house.

He saw his mom’s and dad’s pickup truck coming in on the driveway. They’d just come back from shopping in town.

They got out of the truck and saw him running across the field, stomping on the wheat.

“Look at that dumb kid!” his dad shouted. “He’s running on my wheat again! Get outta there!

He turned to his left and ran off the field to the gravel road and went along that to get to the house. “Mom! Dad!” he shouted in excitement. “Did you see the big rock in the field?”

“What nonsense are you blabbering about now?” his mom said while taking two bags of groceries out of the truck. Then she and his dad took a look far out across the field. Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God. What do you think that is, John?”

“A meteor?” John said. “Fell from out in space, do you think, Jean?”

“Looks that way,” Jean said. “You didn’t go up and touch it, did you, Ted?”

He looked down at his feet. “Yes, I did.”

“You stupid kid,” she said. “And look at what you did to your jeans! And those cuts on your knees! You’re all filthy dirty. You’re gonna need a bath. Oh, you’ve always gotta find more work for me to do, don’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” the boy said softly.

“Get in the house, boy,” John said.

Ted went with his mother straight to the bathroom. She got his bath ready as he got out of his clothes. Both of them were frowning the whole time.

With the bathtub full of sudsy water and Ted naked and ready to go in, she turned around to look at him. “OK, Ted, get in the w…oh, my God!”

His skin was all a yellowish-green.

His eyeballs were yellow.

His blond hair had all turned grey.

“What the hell did you do, boy, getting so close to that meteor?” she shouted. “Such a stupid kid, always doing the wrong thing! What the hell is wrong with you?”

His father heard his mom’s shouting, then he ran from the living room and over to the bathroom. He saw his immobile, naked son…with that yellowish-green skin.

His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.

“Oh, my God!” John said. “You stupid kid!”

“Normally, I’d beat your ass for doing such a stupid thing, but I’m afraid I’ll catch whatever disease you’ve got,” she said. “I’m scared to bathe you, as you are. I’m afraid to be near you. We’ve got to get you to a hospital. Get your clothes back on. There you go again, boy, giving me more work to do!”

Ted just stood there, still and morose.

“Well, hurry up, boy!” John shouted. “You heard her.”

He walked around to look his son in the face.

He saw that sullen expression on the boy, his eyes looking up at his father as if he’d like to kill him.

“Don’t you be lookin’ at me like that, boy!” his father shouted. “I got a good mind to smack you!”

“Don’t touch him, John,” Jean said. “You might catch whatever he got from that meteor.”

Then Ted looked at her in the same, threatening way.

“Hey, don’t you be looking at your mother that way,” she said. “You’re lucky I don’t smack you.”

He continued looking at both of them hatefully.

“I told you to stop it, boy!” she shouted.

“Stop looking at us that way, you little brat!” John said.

Ted kept the scowl on his face. It was even meaner now.

“Stop it!” his parents shouted.

“NO, YOU STOP IT!” he screamed. “YOU TWO ARE ALWAYS MEAN TO ME! YELLING AT ME, CALLING ME STUPID, SAYING I MAKE MORE WORK FOR YOU! YOU DON’T LOVE ME! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOUUUUUUU!!!

As he was screaming, a kind of toxic energy was emanating from his body and penetrating theirs. They couldn’t react in any way except to shake and tilt back with their eyes wide open and their jaws dropped in horror.

Ted kept screaming, but with no more words. He was just letting out unmitigated rage and pain.

John’s and Jean’s bodies were changing now, hardening. They were both petrified as physically as they were emotionally. They soon stood as still as glass statues.

Ted looked at them and smiled.

He let out one last, long scream.

Those statues fragmented and crumbled to the floor in two piles of rock-like pieces.

He smiled an even wider smile.

Then he got in the tub of water and bathed himself. After finishing his bath and drying himself off with a large towel, he left the bathroom, went into his bedroom, and put on a clean set of clothes.

He made himself a sandwich and ate it while watching the TV in peace. When the sun went down, he went to bed, thinking about how he could use his new power on the bullies at school.

He slept like a baby.

When he left for school the next morning after fixing himself a bowl of cereal, he’d never once looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t care how he looked.

Walking on the gravel road all the way to school, he didn’t care how tired he was or how sore his legs were. He didn’t miss getting a ride to school in his parents’ truck at all. His eyes were looking around everywhere on that road, watching out for bullies. This wasn’t out of fear, of course; on the contrary, he couldn’t wait to run into some of them.

About two-thirds of the way there, and having walked for about twenty tiring minutes, Ted saw two bigger boys, Rod and Barry, walking on the road on the way to his school. He smiled at the sight of them, but not because he considered them friends.

The two boys look one look at Ted and froze.

“Holy shit!” Rod said. “What the fuck happened to you, Ted?”

“What a freak!” Barry said. Both of them started laughing at Ted.

Smiling, Ted walked closer to them.

“Hey, stay away from us, you freak!” Rod said. “We don’t want your germs.”

Ted kept coming closer, the smile never leaving his yellow-green face.

“I mean it, you frog-boy, stay away!” Rod said. Both boys picked up rocks.

Ted kept coming at them.

“Stay the fuck away!” Barry said, and both of them started throwing the rocks at Ted.

Barry’s rock hit Ted on the shoulder, and Rod’s hit him on the forehead. Ted’s smile turned into a frown.

“Aww, look,” Barry said. “He lost his smart-ass smirk. I’ll bet he’s gonna start cryin’ for his mommy.”

The boys picked up some more rocks, choosing bigger ones.

Ted stayed where he was, only a few feet away from the boys.

“You’d better start runnin’, freak,” Rod said. Both boys, with rocks in their hands, raised their arms up, ready to throw.

As soon as their arms were backed up to throw the rocks at Ted, he opened his mouth wide.

“AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!” he screamed.

The boys dropped their rocks and plugged their fingers in their ears, though it did them little good. They were shaking all over. Who would have thought that the little twerp could have been so terrifying all of a sudden?

“WHY DON’T YOU PICK ON SOMEONE YOUR OWN SIZE, YOU BULLYING BASTAAAARDS!!!

The two boys looked down at themselves in horror and disbelief as they saw their bodies hardening. The screaming was so ear-splitting that their whole heads were stinging with the sharpest pain, yet they had no hope of going deaf.

“YOU THINK YOU’RE SO TOUGH, YOU ASSHOLES?!” Ted continued. “YOU’RE A COUPLE O’ COWARDS, PICKING ON LITTLE KIDS! I HATE YOUUUUUU!!!

The statues that the two boys had become now shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces that scattered all along the road. With a little wind blowing them about, they’d become indistinguishable from the rest of the gravel. The boys’ clothes and schoolbags fell to the ground.

Ted looked at their remains and grinned.

“I’m so powerful,” he said, then continued toward school.

When he got to the gate surrounding the play area beside the small, one-storey school, where all the kids were out playing, some of them noticed him, shuddered, and pointed him out to their friends. Within a few seconds, all the kids started screaming.

“TED’S A MONSTER!!!”

“HE’S SO UGLY!!! DISGUSTING!!!”

“HELP US, SOMEBODY!!!”

Since Ted had never bothered to get a good look at himself in a mirror at home, he didn’t understand why everyone was calling him ‘freak’ and ‘ugly.’ All he knew was that those words hurt.

So he decided to do some screaming of his own.

“WHY DOES EVERYONE HAVE TO BE SO MEAN TO ME? WHY CAN’T I HAVE ANY FRIENDS? NO ONE LOVES ME! NO ONE ACCEPTS ME AS I AM, AND I’M SICK AND TIRED OF IT!!!

Every child in that playing area, and every teacher there or coming out there to hear what all the screaming was about, froze in his or her tracks, trembled at the deafening noise and the toxic energy radiating from the boy, and became emotionally and physically petrified.

He let out one more scream, and all those glass-like statues shattered all over the grass.

Ted himself was shaking with rage and poisonous hatred. He walked with stomping feet into the school. The remaining staff of the school, who were still alive but terrified by the superhuman volume of Ted’s screaming outside, just stood still where they were, shaking as they heard his approaching, stomping feet.

A few of them in the main hall saw him and gasped at how inhumanly green he looked.

He looked in their horrified eyes with a scowl.

“SO, YOU ALL HATE ME TOO, EEEEEEHHHHH!!!

With that long scream, they all froze and hardened.

He took a deep breath, then, “AAAAHHHH!!!”

Their bodies all blew up, the pieces spread all over the floor.

Now burning with hate, he went through room after room, checking to see if anyone at all was still alive. All he saw of humanity were scattered fragments of petrified pieces of former people.

“Good,” he grunted. “They’re all dead.”

Then he walked by a mirror and saw himself.

Not only did he have that yellow-green skin, the yellow eyes, and the greyed hair; his teeth, bared in his rage, were blood red, as if he’d just eaten an animal. He had green, wart-like spots all over his skin. Worst of all, he knew why he looked this way.

It wasn’t so much his exposure to the meteor.

It was all of his built-up rage and hate.

He couldn’t stand to see how he looked.

He hated all the more the person he’d become.

No better than John or Jean.

No better than the school bullies.

Much worse, in fact.

“AAAAAHHHH!!! I’M A MONSTER!!!”

He froze into a statue.

Ten minutes later, a six-year-old girl walked into the hallway, crying.

“Everybody’s dead,” she sobbed. “My teachers, my friends, all my classmates. They’re all just…broken little pieces. Why?”

Then she saw Ted’s green, deformed statue. She got up close to it. She saw his agape, red mouth and widened, yellow eyes. Her own mouth and eyes widened.

“AAAAAHHHH!!!” she screamed.

His statue shattered.

She trembled at the reaction, but stayed where she was.

“Oww!” she yelped at a slight burning feeling on her arm.