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Inner limits


exatreide

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Came up with a idea for a fic..

Little break from the norm

a sort of indepedent work thread.

It has to have a outerlimitsh/twilight zone twist at the end. I thought it might be a good idea to start a thread. Just orginal fics they have to have some sort of outlimits/twilight zone twist in it. Dosn't matter what its about. And everyone should read them and comment on them.

Just has to be fit into one post.

Everyone is free to post..That is if your up to the challenge.

Here is mine.

Its called

George

A scream awoke George from his slumber, an ear piercing blood curdling scream. The kind you hear in a cheap slasher movie when someone dies. Confusion struck first, had he just heard that?

Naaa. It was probably just the T.V downstairs. He thought to himself, exhaling he rolled over on his stomach and tried to get some sleep.

Another scream shattered the obscurity between sleep and alertness. He recognized the voice; he had known it for some 16 years. It was his mothers. The scream was longer and more painful. He wished to rush down the steps to try to help. He couldn't move his body was handicapped with fear.

He raised the sheet up a little, up under his nose.

Don't come upstairs please. Please don't come up stairs. The thoughts ceased to leave his mind.  He kept a short t-ball bat under his bed incase something liker this ever happened.

His hand slowly let its tight grip on the cloth go and eased down the side of the bed struggling to breathe in fear they might be eavesdropping upon him.

He felt the butt of the bat, the round grip at the end was just out of reach. His fingers grazed its polished surface. He shifted his body a little the bed creaked in protest. He grabbed the bat waking it from its peaceful slumber.

Shit, shit shit shit! A creak could be heard on the first step, and then another...

It was coming up the stairs...

It was coming up the stairs!

The darkness outside offered no peace or escape the fall would likely break his legs if attempted.

George had counted six creaks it was coming, slowly but it was coming. He sat up still holding the bat.

Please go away, just please go away. Perspiration begins forming on the teenager's brow, he felt much hotter then he had been a moment ago.

Eight creaks, Only two to go...

George mustard the bravery and stood up, walking slowly towards the door opposite his bed. The bat was raised to strike, ready to finally go to use.

The creaking stopped. Were they going away? Why did they stop? His heart jumped.

George was within reach of the door, his left hand slipped towards the handle clicking the lock on the door.

Nine creaks! it was coming! George raised the bat, fear filled every inch of his body, he has never been so terrified in his life.

Ten creaks! it was here!

He tightened his grip on the bat preparing to swing. Something slammed against the door. It shook with force. George backed away his mouth ajar in awe.

"Georgggeee Opennn the doorrrr." A voice hissed on the other side of the door. He didn't recognize the voice it was deep and almost reptilian.

"Weee cammmeee forrr youuu. Opeennn the doorrr or payyy." The voice said again the door looking to explode from stress.

George said nothing gripping the bat. How does it know my name?

The door stopped shaking, suddenly and with out warning as if whoever was outside had just given up.

George let out a sigh of relief. It's over, it's finally over. Thank you god. Thank you.

The lock on his door was beginning to turn, slowly but with purpose it was unlocking the door.

No...No...No...No...Don't, please.

.It flew open. Ryan dropped the bat and stumbled back in awe.  The creature tilted its head. It stood nearly 8 foot tall covered with scales and a golden vest. The blood of George's parents coated the creature. Beady saffron eyes glazed upon him. Its tongue lashed out smelling the air.

"Go away!" George shouted.

"No, The high consol has deemed you important. We have a task for you." It strode towards Ryan lifting one of its massive bows like arms. Its talons clicked loudly before they gripped George around the throat ripping the skin and tissue around the spine apart revealing the bloody cord.

To his credit he struggled, twisting and screaming as the implant crawled in through his spine, moving up the primitive creature's medulla and nestling itself inside the cerebrum. Where it would nest for the chunk of its life.

"Mr. President? Mr. President are you alright?" Susan asked him touching his shoulder.

George shook off memory from child hood." Yes what is it?"

"secretary Rumsfeld wish's to see." She said smiling.

"Of course send him in."

She nodded and walked away.

Tell him everything I tell you. You know the consequences of your insolence. The voice in his head said sending a sharp pain through his back.

Of course your excellence whatever you want. George assured it his eyes flashing saffron

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Sheila had just gotten back from her trip to Hawaii.  She fiddled with the key in the lock for a few seconds, cursing the cheap locksmith they had hired to put the deadbolt in.

As the door finally swept open she put the duffel bag and commemorative bag down on the couch.  Then she turned and closed the door.  She yawned and looked over at the answering machine, five messages.  She hit play.

"Message one," said the machine tonelessly.

"I hate you, I'm going to kill you," screamed the voice of her ex-boyfriend.

"Message two," said the machine tonelessly.

"I am so gonna kill you, but you don't seem to be home.  I swear I'll kill you!"

"Message three."

"Die die die die, I hate you you lying whore!"

"Message four."

"Four rhymes with whore, and that's what you are!  I'll kill you for cheating on me!  Do you hear me, I'll kill you!!!"

"Message five."

"I'm going to kill you."

Sheila shook her head, that idiot didn't know when to quit.  But he was harmless she knew.  She snuggled into bed with her clothes still on and began to snore softly.

After a few minutes, a loud crash reverberated.  She looked up startled trying to see if it was her psycho ex.  But it wasn't, the wind had just blown through the window and knocked over a vase.

She returned to sleep and began to feel a choking around her neck that brought her to consciousness.  She felt for hands around her but there were none, it was canvas straps.

"No one suspects the bags," hissed the commemorative bag as it choked the life from her.

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  Heh, that last one reminds me of a short story I read by Bently Little called "Pillow Talk".  To make a long story short, the main character wakes from a...particularly invigorating...dream to find that his pillow has mounted him and is, ehh, acting real friendly.

  Funny story, a bit frighting.  Have you guys read any Bently Little?

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  • 3 weeks later...

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