|Posted by Julienne Fries on October 20, 2011 at 10:05 PM||comments (0)|
Sarah pushed the front door to the library open to a rush of warm air, ready to collect the books she needed. But before she could get past the front desk, Sarah was confronted by a dirty old man that grabbed her and stared at her with wide, wild eyes, shouting hoarsely, “Don’t look at their eyes, don’t look at their eyes, they will find you!”
Sarah tried to shrug the man off, dismissing him as nothing but some crazy hobo, and got along with her business.
Eventually Sarah had all her books, and was walking shakily towards the large front door of the library, making sure the old man was nowhere in sight so she wouldn’t have to run into him again. Out in the cold again, Sarah started walking down the sidewalk back the way she had come, and passed the large stone gargoyles that marked the library entrance. They grimaced at her from a few feet up on pillars. Just of curiosity, she stood there intermittent for a while, staring back into the faces of the gargoyles. Even in stone, they were very grotesque-looking creatures, with the ugly wrinkles on the forehead and the hideous fangs. And those eyes…
Sarah stared at the gargoyle’s eyes, somehow not able to break away from those strange, engraved orbs. The longer she stared, the more life-like they seemed, glaring at her with piercing, bloodshot pupils…
But no, the eyes were stone. The gargoyle was stone, and it was nothing to be scared of. Sarah pulled herself together and bustled back home, trying to keep nothing but her new books in her mind.
That night Sarah awoke to a light scratching at her bedroom window. She opened her eyelid slightly to see what the bother was, but saw nothing. Relaxing, she fell back to sleep.
Two hours later Sarah rose from her sleep again. That same scratching noise was still audible, only this time it seemed to be coming from the corner of her room, instead of outside the window. Whatever it was, it had gotten in.
Sarah stared fixedly at the spot where the noise was coming from; trying to make out if something was there. It was too dark to see, so she fumbled around on her bedside table and eventually found the lamp switch and flicked it on.
A scream filled Sarah’s lungs, and she frantically cowered back against the wall in fear. A long shadow stretched across the wall to a grotesque, familiar-looking creature heaving and tearing at the carpet in the corner. It suddenly noticed someone was watching it, and looked up, revealing the vile face of the gargoyle Sarah had seen earlier, only this she could tell there was flesh and blood under the dirt-smeared outer shell that just resembled stone.
A memory suddenly came back to Sarah….”Don’t look at their eyes, don’t look at their eyes, they will find you!” She barely managed a gasp as the gargoyle lunged and all went black.
|Posted by Julienne Fries on October 20, 2011 at 10:00 PM||comments (0)|
I went to sleep lying on a soaked pillow of blood and tears. Freaking gangs, attacking random people in random alleyways, making a would-be perfectly normal city into a battlefield every time you stepped out your front door.
With obscenities and dark images of what I might do to people in my anger of today’s events in my mind, my brain did not clearly register what I was looking at when I woke up a few hours later to something pressing against my chest. It took a while, but then my eyes widened and I tried not to shout in terror. A grotesque, disfigured face with green-tainted flaky skin that seemed like it had been dead for months but had still managed to cling to the rotting bone stared back at me, filling my nostrils with a horrid, old-woman-like stench. Mangled, greasy black hair hung like a wet mop just inches from my face, its thin roots looking like they were about to become detached from the cracked, dry scalp any second. The hag grinned a crooked, yellow-toothed grin and leaned in even closer to me.
“Had a rough day, did you, my son?“ she said in a croaky whisper, just barely audible enough for me to hear. I was too shaken to even nod. “Go on, go back to sleep. I am very interested in how your nightmares will form tonight.”
I stared, speechless, sweat gushing from my head as I soaked in the pure horror of what was playing out. I tried to speak, but only a little gag came out.
The hag laughed quietly to herself and put a bony, dirt-covered finger to my lips. “Now, now, don’t use up all your fear on me, my dear,” she hissed into my ear. “Then I would have to do something very unpleasant, you know. After all, how else would I get my dinner?”
I still just stared at the hag, unable to do anything else. I thought I saw a glimpse of red in her eyes as she leaned and even closer still and whispered in an agitated voice, “Go to sleep, stupid human! You do not know what fate awaits you if you don’t! I will kill you, rip your soul from your body!”
I did not want to die, I wanted to live, I wanted to break free and run, but for some reason I just couldn’t. I stayed frozen at the spot in fear, and I couldn’t do anything as the old hag narrowed her eyebrows and brought up one long, pointed, dirty greenish finger and examined it.
I let out one long blood-curdling scream, the only thing I could manage, as pure pain shot through my head and hot blood trickled down my scalp. I could feel her fingernail, slicing the skin, and her inhuman fingers cracking my skull, digging into my head as icy coldness spread through me. And then, all went black.
|Posted by Julienne Fries on October 1, 2011 at 11:20 PM||comments (0)|
PART 6: THIS SPOON FOR HIRE
Timmy bolted upright and made to dash for the door, but was blocked by Joe, who caught Timmy's shoulders in a tight grip and turned Timmy face to face with him.
"So you did it in cold blood, did you?" Joe said through gritted teeth, looking at the filthy delinquent. "That could earn you a life sentence, kid."
Timmy looked up with demented, unfocused eyes and spat in Joe's face. "I do what the corn flakes tell me," he seethed, frothing slightly at the mouth. Joe's eyes widened as Timmy tried to escape again, and he quickly pulled out a pair of handcuffs he always kept in his pockets for emergencies like these and clicked one around Timmy's wrist and one around the bedpost.
"Everybody out into the hall," Joe said as he opened the door and dashed down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. The psycho's mother was still sitting at the table silently when Joe came in. It would be hard to break the news to her, but it was his job. He sat down next to her. She looked up.
"What happened?" she said anxiously, glancing up at the stairs. Joe shifted awkwardly in his chair.
"I'm sorry to tell you this, ma'am, but your kid..." started Joe uncomfortably, "well, to be frank, your kid's bust a nut."
The dame screamed in shock in an octave usually used for calling dogs, and almost toppled out of her chair. By the time she had gotten to her feet Joe could tell the waterworks had turned on, and he begrudgingly walked over to comfort her.
"It's all right," he said, patting her on the back, "he's upstairs right now, and he won't be coming out of that room until the police get here. Understand? They're gonna take over my job now." She nodded.
"Well, I'm glad you could figure it out," she said, "even if it did involve harming my poor son."
Joe sighed. "I'm afraid he did more damage just now than I could ever do to him, ma'am."
The dame nodded again and fumbled in her purse for some money, eventually handing Joe a fat wad of greenbacks, which he took and stored safely in his pocket. This case was closed, and as Joe walked out the front door he flipped his trench coat hood up as a symbol of another assignment clinched.
|Posted by Julienne Fries on September 8, 2011 at 7:35 PM||comments (0)|
Uncle Sam Hates You: A Particularly Unpatriotic Original Rap By Julienne Fries
Back in WWI they hired me to ask
If you could join the army and do the hardest task
But don't be getting confused
'Cause I could care less about you
And I hate you
I hate you
Back then I said "I want you"
But I hate you
I got some crazy white hair and a patriotic top hat
But the US Army? Ha, you're stupid and fat
And if you think that poster is true
You got another thing coming
'Cause the Star Spangled Banner is not what I'm humming
And that famous finger wasn't pointing to you
It was pulling a trigger with the bullet pointed at you
So when you see me coming
Don't laugh and say, "I want you for the US Army"
I want you to cry and say "oh, please don't harm me"
|Posted by Julienne Fries on September 1, 2011 at 6:35 PM||comments (0)|
Catalina: An Original Whiner Poem By Julienne Fries
O Catalina, O Cataline
Been waiting forever, where have you been
I walked the Sahara Desert
And clipped my long toe nails
But no matter what I did
It was to not avail
I begged and prayed and
Drank ant spray
But you didn't appear any day
I sighed and cried and
But you didn't come, oh why?
Now Catty all I'm askin'
Is to come when I snort aspirin
And everything I try on a whim
To get you to come back when
I drink a little poison
Every single day
And beat my self with ratchet
Till my skin turns grey
I want you back every day
How many times do I have to say it
I might tell you by eating clay
Doesn't matter how I portray it
|Posted by Julienne Fries on September 1, 2011 at 6:15 PM||comments (0)|
A Day in the Life of a Giraffe Milker -- An Original Poem By Julienne Fries
I was walking through Africa with my rubber gloves
When I saw a furry face in the trees above
I looked to the left, I looked to the right
And there was a giraffe right in my sights
Nipples hanging low, they were full of milk
And as I squeezed it out it was smoother than silk
I took a little sip, it tingled my lip
And it tasted so good I drank it up so quick
But then the nipples were dry
So I started to cry
And to the giraffe, I said goodbye
Now if you ever see a giraffe lurking in the woods
Just squeeze its milk out 'cause it tastes so good
|Posted by Julienne Fries on August 31, 2011 at 9:40 PM||comments (0)|
|Posted by Julienne Fries on August 28, 2011 at 8:20 PM||comments (0)|
PART 4: CRUNCH ME DEADLY
Joe dashed up the stairs and burst into Timmy's room. All the boys looked up at him, startled, and he pointed to Billy.
"You," he said, "I need to talk to you." Billy turned pale white and looked at his friends nervously before reluctantly following Joe out into the hall and closing the door behind him. Joe bent down on one knee and looked Billy straight in the eye.
"Billy," started Joe, taking a deep breath, "your fingerprint matches the one on the spoon downstairs."
Bily fidgeted nervously, looking down at his feet. "Well," he mumbled, "it- you could be talking about an- any spoon, right?"
Joe leaned in. "No," he said sharply, "it's the spoon."
Billy suddenly burst into tears. "All right, all right!" he cried. "I touched the spoon!"
Joe raised an eyebrow. "But you aren't the cereal killer?"
"N-no," said Billy, looking surprised.
Joe furrowed his brow. "When did you touch the spoon, then?" he said frustratedlly.
Billy paled again. "W-well," he said timidly, "I-I-"
Joe's eyes widened. He grasped Billy's shoulders and shook him frantically. "What happened, Billy? Billy, what did you do?"
Billy looked up into Joe's face and whimpered. "I- I saw the murder happen!"
WHO DID BILLY SEE???
WILL THEY CONFESS TO THE CRIME???
WHAT WILL THE VERDICT BE???
STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT THRILLING CHAPTER IN THE SERIES, ATTACK OF THE CEREAL KILLER!
|Posted by Julienne Fries on August 28, 2011 at 5:00 PM||comments (0)|
PART 3: THE BIG SNAP, CRACKLE, POP
Detective Joe Thompson's mind raced as he trudged up the staircase to the boy's room. How could he ever figure out this mystery if there was practically infinity suspects to choose from? He made a mental note to never do mysteries involving cereal killing again.
"Hello?" called a squeaky little boy's voice from behind the door Joe had just rapped hardly upon. Joe pushed it opened and looked inside. A small kid, probably about seven years old, was sitting on a fat bed pushed up against the opposite wall of the room and four other kids were seated around him on the floor. "Who are you?"
Joe smiled, walked inside, and sat down next to the boy. "My name is Detective Joe Thompson," he said, "I'm here to investigate what happened last night. What's your name, son?"
"Timmy," said the boy nervously.
"Well, Timmy," said Joe, looking the kid straight in the eye, "are you aware of what happened last night?"
Timmy nodded and pointed to his friends. "They do too."
Joe nodded and thought for a moment. Then, suddenly, a great idea sparked inside his head and he jumped to his feet. Quickly pulling out an inkpad, an ink roller, and a pad of paper from his pocket that he always kept for emergencies, he explained his plan to the kids.
"Okay, I'm going to pass around this inkpad and all of you put your thumb on it and rub it around on the paper. Then write your name under the print." Joe pulled out a pen from his pocket too as he said this.
After about a minute of rapid thumb-printing, Timmy handed the notepad back to Joe. Five names were written across the bottom, Jimmy, Billy, Chippy, and Timmy. After making sure everything was correct, Joe dashed out of the room, down the stairs, and back into the kitchen to the scene of the crime.
Everything was still where Joe had left it. He stooped down next to the milk spill, staring intently at the spoon lying in it. He had seen it before, but he hadn't been paying attention to it.....Where was it? There. There, on the edge of the handle of the spoon, was a big, fat thumb print. Joe excitedly held up the notepad against the spoon and looked for the matching one. He found it and looked down at the name. Billy.
To be continued.
WERE YOU EXPECTING IT???
WHAT WILL BILLY SAY???
HOW WILL DETECTIVE THOMPSON PUNISH???
STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT THRILLING CHAPTER IN THE SERIES, ATTACK OF THE CEREAL KILLER!