The Nomadic Swansong

Well, here we are at last! 

With a grim smile do I write that, for “here” is the one place we shouldn’t be! 

The end began as predictably as feared; fear, ignorance and hate. Everyone else was wrong, with as much impetus as minds closed rapidly. One way became The Only Way and those buttons were pushed. 

We knew of the finality of nuclear war. Those that died were lucky. The survivors had this moment to lurch ever towards amidst that which grew from the shadows within.

The First were visions of nightmare but relatively easy to eliminate. We didn’t always spot them, such was their pallor in twilight, but the mutation needed healthier hosts.

It spread with a virulent carnage did this atrocity, as plans to regroup became hysteria. The major cities emptied, the Swarm fleeing behind them in pursuit.

What fleeting howls we did perceive at first gained strength in numbers; hordes of Those who were once brethren having strength, until all we could do was hide.

But They were smart! Whatever changed their DNA from Homo Sapiens changed their intellectual capacity. We needed food rest and shelter; they had plenty of us and could wait.

So here we are, I say! The Last. With a final, impotent lurch, we go to our death….​


The Eldritch

Twisted Imaginings HTML

Twisted Imaginings – A Horror And Gore Themed Blog.

As Danny pulled up, he saw them. Melissa, Tony, Karen and Jimmy. The Gang.

This had been their idea, to help Danny move on. Since Alex’s death he hadn’t been the same, but who could? Alex had just announced her pregnancy to The Gang, taking Danny by surprise too, yet by morning she was gone forever. The drunk driver had come out of nowhere, hurtling straight at Alex, who stood frozen, before being launched into the air and landing several feet away. There was nothing anyone could do, her head facing the opposite direction, her eyes lifeless.
Six months had passed and Danny wasn’t even close to beginning to mourn, through fear of forgetting his childhood sweetheart.
They had all tried to help but nothing could replace the erudite Alex, who had stolen a piece of each of their hearts. Then one day Jimmy had sent them an email, enthusing passionately about the cottage he had rented in Ireland. They hadn’t taken a trip, just the five of them, since university, and now was a good as time as any.
It was Jimmy who greeted Danny first, with a huge grin and a hug. Danny had frozen at first but it was hard not to feel positive around the gangs joker.
“Would you look at it!’, Jimmy said, a little too happily. “Yeah, fields and cow shit”, Danny replied with a half smile. “What else?”.
The gang broke into laughter and went inside. September was drawing to a close, leaving a distinct chill in the air. The cottage looked quaint, yet inside it boasted the spoils of modern life. Melissa and Karen had stocked up on food, leaving the boys to stock up on booze and pharmaceuticals.
“It’s wonderful isn’t it?”, squealed Karen, the youngest of the gang. “Yeah…umm yeah…”, Danny began, before Tony handed him a beer. “Shut up and drink!”, Tony commanded. “That’s an order, sunshine!”.
After dinner they made their way outside to the bonfire that Jimmy was busy stoking. Melissa had prepared some joints, one of which was now lit. They talked for a few minutes before realising that Tony was missing.
With no small amount of cajoling Tony finally emerged from the cottage, holding what seemed to be an ancient encyclopedia. Dust seemed to pour out of the book, which made them all cough as Tony rubbed at the front until the title was clear.
The Eldritch.
In big yet severe Gothic letters.
“Is that gold?”, Melissa enquired, screwing her face up. “No, it’s a book, you prat!”, Jimmy chimed in before getting an elbow in the ribs. But Danny had taken the book and was staring intently at it.
“Anything good?”, asked Karen.
What? Oh, the book….”, Danny mumbled distracted, then cleared his throat. “Yes, an Eldritch is an other worldly creature, like a ghost”, he brightened. “Unlike our Jimmy, they really are the stuff of legend. This brought a round of laughter. “They’re mostly myth but it’s said that if you summon an Eldritch they destroy all who invoked it. The kicker is that it does so in the most uncanny fashion. I wonder what’s inside?”.
Opening the book by the fire, Danny began to read. It was English, but it made no sense, just a seemingly random set of incoherent words jumbled together. He paused as a gust of strong wind blew across them.
“OK, who wants music?”, Jimmy pitched in.
The next morning Danny awoke with a start. His dream of Alex had been extremely realistic as she had borne down upon him. He rubbed his eyes and went to the bathroom.
He found everyone except Tony in the living room, looking downcast. “What’s up?”, he asked brightly.
“He’s gone!”, Karen said, quietly. “Gone? Why who’s Tony met this time?”.
“No, gone!”, Karen said, loudly. “And where the fuck were you earlier?”.
It transpired that Tony had been the last in the night before. Not that anyone would have noticed earlier except for the blood curdling scream the others heard at dawn. They’d run out front, in the direction of the scream, but found nothing apart from Tony’s shirt. The police had left about 15 minutes before Danny awoke.
Jimmy, as ever, had tried to keep spirits up, but even he was rather muted. After further discussion they decided to stay.
Heading into the village Danny asked Jimmy if Tony had any reason to up and leave. “No, and that’s the thing”, Jimmy replied, after a long pause. “He’s the most reliable out of us. You know you could set your watch by him”.
As they approached the cottage they heard screams. Melissa was out front, with the police, and screaming her lungs hoarse. They discovered that Karen had been taking a shower when Melissa heard a short, blood curdling scream, followed by silence. There was nobody in the bathroom, just one of Karen’s tops. 
Jimmy agreed to go to the hospital with Melissa, leaving Danny home alone. It was a little after ten in the morning, but he opened the bottle of whiskey and poured himself a large glass anyway. What was happening? It couldn’t be the book, that was ludicrous! Taking another large draw on his joint, Jimmy got comfortable in his chair as his mind returned to his dream of Alex.
That night, Jimmy awoke with a start. He hadn’t planned to sleep at all, yet the day was gone! Looking at the blinking light on his phone, he dialled voicemail. It was a frantic Jimmy, saying that Melissa had screamed from her cubicle before disappearing, her hospital gown the only proof she had been there. Jimmy had begun to say something else, before he screamed too and the line went dead.
The other three messages were increasingly annoyed calls from the local constabulary, demanding he call them. They also wanted to know why Jimmy’s Led Zep shirt had been found in a hospital corridor.
Danny didn’t know but what he was sure of is that, at ten at night, he wasn’t going home until the morning. Returning to the living room with beer and whiskey, he mulled over the last twenty four hours.
What was the deal with everyone’s top? It was utterly random until a thought struck him. Hadn’t Alex bought everyone a top at some point? No, that was impossible, he thought with a look of distaste. It couldn’t be!
He looked across the room to the table where the book lay. He regretted ever seeing it, yet was oddly curious too. Settling at the table he began to read.
An Eldritch can take on many forms, he read, yet its purpose was darkly misleading. Its aim was to create a sense of unease, which was what Danny now felt, as the ethereal music became louder. It was their song!
Running out of the cottage he looked around wildly. There was a a light coming from the nearby woods. He began to walk then stopped. Hadn’t this exact scenario happened in his dream earlier? Possibly but he started to walk again. He got the sense that the answer was the light in the wood.
Whatever had caused the unknown light had stopped by the time Danny reached the outskirts of the woods several minutes later. The whiskey bottle was emptier too, Danny having consumed a little too much of it by the time he got there. Yet their song was quite obviously coming from within.
Danny entered.

Buffalo Bill – The Silence Of The Lambs

Twisted Imaginings – A Horror And Gore Themed Blog.

Buffalo Bill, aka Jame Gumb or John Grant, is the skin suit wearing serial killer superbly played by Ted Levine in the film “Silence Of The Lambs”.

Not much is known about Bill, but there is a little info. For example, he was the son of an alcoholic sex worker, who misspelled his name as “Jame”, who abandoned him at the age of two.
Buffalo Bill lived in foster care until the age of ten, before being adopted by his grandparents, who are also his first victims.
As the film starts, Bill is a wanted serial killer, having earned the Buffalo Bill nickname because “he likes to skin his humps”. We learn that Bill believes himself to be transgender, despite having been refused gender reassignment because of his unstable past. In a now infamous scene, Bill records himself to the song “Goodbye Horses”, wearing his ‘suit’.

When the film was first released new methods of identifying serial killers had begun in America. Bill is organized and smart, weighing down one of his victims, thereby changing the order in which his victims are discovered. His house has many rooms too, meaning he has privacy to follow his depraved fantasies.

Of course, everyone remembers Hannibal Lector, the liver eating cannibalistic psychiatrist, but Ted Levine turns in an amazing performance as the equally gruesome Buffalo Bill. It also leaves the audience wondering as Bill is seemingly an ordinary guy, on the surface at least. The dance sequence, with Bill awkwardly tucking his genitals between his legs, has become one of the best known scenes in modern cinematic history.

Personally I love the character of Bill as his depraved fantasies are completely at odds with an intelligent, orderly man. That is what makes him all the more menacing though as, along with the Chianti quaffing doctor, nothing is quite as it appears.

Four In The Morning

Twisted Imaginings – A Horror And Gore Themed Blog.

l awoke, sweating at four in the morning. More than sweating; the bedsheets were drenched.
This wasn’t right and my escape, while easy in theory, meant getting past the various checks at Gatwick. If I was successful I’d be home free.
Oh, I’m Steve. On the surface I’m an ordinary guy, smart but forgettable. That’s the point you see, because I’m a con artist. I dabble in fraud too. Normally I keep business and pleasure desperate, but this job means I’m set for life. Let me explain….
A childhood friend, let’s call him Jay, had recently come into a fair bit of money. I shan’t relate how, as I’m in enough trouble already, but I almost managed to relieve him of his not inconsiderable fortune. I say almost, because Jay found out. The night before I was due to leave for America. That’s why I did it, why I knocked him out and set his home on fire. I don’t know if he’ll live, but there’s no turning back now. I acquired a fake passport via the usual channels and there’s a green card, plus a job, waiting for me when I arrive. If only the plan had been perfect.
How did he find out? I got careless. That’s not an option in my line of work, but I was greedy, far too greedy.
My belongings were waiting by the front door, so when the cab arrived it took less than two minutes to be heading for my freedom. The driver was, thankfully, rather quiet and accepted my holiday story with a grunt. I didn’t need the stress, not today at least.
The check in went smoothly, well as good as it could have ever been, what with all the hanging around. Nobody appeared to be looking for me, but I did notice a few pairs of eyes on me. Paranoia I guess but those eyes bored straight past me. It was more likely that I hadn’t bothered to shower or shave before leaving. I’d need to freshen up on the plane.
For one reason or another I fell asleep before take off. Apparently I was in a deep sleep too because I missed the in flight meal. After asking the stewardess for a whisky, neat, I enquired as to the time. I must have looked dreadful when she told me it was four in the morning, because she stepped back and gasped. Adjusting my demeanor, I smiled and tried to pass it off as tiredness and not realizing we were an hour away, roughly, from San Francisco. She smiled at me but looked unconvinced.
Passing through customs I once again had the feeling that eyes were upon me but there were far more people here and a particularly dishevelled looking traveller must have been a break in the monotony. As you’ve no doubt guessed, I was successful in exiting the airport, but my taxi driver this end was anything but quiet. He was talking as I hailed the taxi and, I presume, still talking when he dropped me off at the hotel. He wanted to know absolutely everything about Britain and why I was here. I pretended to be asleep until he shouted that we had arrived and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Everything else was completely normal but, once again, I awoke at 4am. In fact I leapt out of bed, thinking there was someone in my room. There wasn’t, but there had been. On the table there was an envelope. It was empty but the neatly typed words on the front were unmistakable not to mention recognizable. It was Jay’s handwriting and it said, “See you at 4am!”.
There was no point in sleeping now so I went out hoping the fresh air might help. It didn’t as I wasted most of the day thinking I was being watched. Returning to my room with the confused gaze of the receptionist I locked myself in and drew the curtains. The receptionist didn’t need to call and relay that message as the new envelope with “It’s nearly 4am!”, written on the front was where I’d found the previous letter.
So here I sit, at 3.54am knowing the inevitable would happen. The blurry figure sitting in the car opposite my hotel window is still there too. I know who he is, but more importantly I know what The Brotherhood can do. I know, you’re wondering who The Brotherhood are. Well, they can introduce you to pleasures as extreme as they are illegal, delightful yet immoral. They’re hard enough to find, never mind infiltrate, but I did, which is where I met Jay, the most depraved of all. I had offered him the ultimate in perversion for his money, then ran.
But you can’t do that to them. You deliver to these brothers or they hunt and destroy you. Do I, conman and thief, go to the police? No, and not just because the police are involved in The Brotherhood, but because who would believe me?
But I tell you this with a chill in my heart! The figure who just got out of the car looked up at me with a knowing and a malicious grin. Because it’s 4am and that’s payback time……​

The Phial Of Hope

Twisted Imaginings – A Horror And Gore Themed Blog.

The virus that spread amongst New Yorkers was swift and most unusual, not least of all because of the sudden drop in the patients core temperature, which arrived with a slow agonizing death. It appeared to be airborne but tests were still frantically being done.
Which is why Martin, a photographer by trade, was intrigued by the email he had been staring at for the last hour. It was mixed with skepticism too, as the author of the email stated that they had a cure. There wasn’t much in the way of details either just a time and place to meet; Dock 17 on Saturday night at midnight.
Stretching, Martin shut down his laptop and rubbed his eyes. It was probably the stress of recent events that had contributed to his headaches, but he had until tomorrow night to rest.
Being inquisitive, Martin had researched the virus symptoms against other known viruses but the patients temperature drop, along with the final 6 hours of agony, were most unusual. If they could find out why, the antidote, and vaccination, could be administered much quicker, and prevent more fatalities.
Martin stood, and realized with some concern, that he was aching. Figuring it to be a lack of sleep, he laid on the sofa.
Several hours later, Martin awoke with a start. It was now dark, meaning he had slept since that morning. Worse, he now realized an awful truth; that the headache and pain had been the first sign of infection. The best case scenario was thirty six hours until death! As he tried to comprehend his own mortality, his sell phone rang.
“Hello, Mr Dawson”, the voice opined. “I take it you’re awake now. What are your symptoms?”.
A million questions ran through Martin’s mind, before settling on the obvious. “What the fuck is going on and how the hell do you know me?”.
The voice at the other end chuckled softly. “All in good time, sir! You know where you need to be tomorrow night?”.
“It’s you!”, Martin exploded. “How the…”. The voice stopped him dead with its abruptness.
“That’s irrelevant right now! All that matters now is your being at Dock 17 tomorrow at midnight. Do I make myself clear?”. Martin began to respond but the line went dead.
After attempting to eat, which didn’t go well, Martin decided to stay on the sofa for the night. The caller had withheld their ID and several failed attempts later he resigned himself to the same fate with the email address he had. Further online searches, this time via The Dark Web, had yielded nothing much beyond a now growing rumour, called Genesis. Apparently Genesis was not only a cure for the current viral outbreak but a cure for everything from the common cold to cancer and Alzheimer’s. The posts he read alluded to a Host but he was unable to find out what this host was.
Martin awoke again with a jolt, causing him to groan loudly. He realized the infection had spread and he was feeling worse. Using the bathroom he was shocked by his pallid complexion. His breathing was laboured too. Walking back into the living room, he registered the time, ten at night just before seeing the blink of his answering machine. Its red flashing hurt his eyes. Martin pressed play and heard, once again, the relaxed sinister voice demanding his prompt attendance.
Grabbing his keys and cell phone, he lurched toward the front door. His vision was blurring and he felt cold. It was mid summer but he grabbed a jacket and left.
Walking out on the street was a nightmare Martin could have done without. Every sight and sound was amplified and distorted, colours and sounds building into an insane cacophony. Somehow he managed to hail a cab and tell the driver the location.
Thirty minutes later the muttering driver pulled up and demanded a tip. Martin was beyond argument, simply handing a was of notes over. He stood observing the eerie dock and heard the cab leaving at speed.
It was just after eleven and deathly quiet. Martin had only just given up on trying to distinguish reality from delerium when he felt himself, roughly, being put into a wheelchair and secured. His mumbled protests quickly faded as he passed out.
Some longer time later Martin awoke in what seemed like an operating theatre, but there were far too many people, all masked and clothed in safety gear. Moving proved futile as he was strapped to the table
A voice, the voice, came over the tannoy. “Glad you could join us, Mr Dawson!”. Any inflection in the still soothing voice was now lost”.
“It took us some time to find you”, the voice continued. “You, Martin Dawson, are our Patient Zero!”.
The voice paused while Martin, thrashing, attempted to force some movement.
“You see, you were the one who was bitten, the one who first caught the infection, which also makes you the cure!”.
Martin relaxed slightly as he scrambled through memories of being bitten, then tensed again. The mosquito bites? Surely not?
“Yes”, the voice said, with a grim chuckle. “Those mosquitoes carried it but, having passed it to you, it mutated and grew”. Martin began to shiver.
“We discovered the mosquito connection very early on, but it’s taken until know to trace the first known human carrier. Fortunately, in our case at least, your photography helped, not only in identifying the species but how it mutated into a human infection”.
Still shivering, Martin realized the temperature was dropping rapidly, his rapid breath misting as he exhaled. His teeth were chattering too. As he continued to feel the effects of the cold, he became aware of activity around him. The malicious voice continued to opine.
“It’s the cold which speeds this disease up and, ironically, the very way we can deliver a vaccine. But first we need to carry out further tests!”.
Martin attempted to scream as the masked faces closed in on him but he couldn’t. Everything was becoming a blur, but he also realized that his body was being worked on.
“We need you alive, Mr Dawson, for only via the live Patient Zero can we observe, test and learn!”.
Martin didn’t quite hear that as his eyes were fixed on the mirror above him. The mirror which reflected his exposed internal organs, still there but an ugly, sickening, luminous green.
“Naturally you won’t survive this procedure”, the voice cackled. “But we need a phial we can place hope for humanity in. Until then, bear witness to your one saving grace!”.
But Martin was already witnessing the horror, all the while barely registering that the tormented screams were indeed coming from him.
The tannoy voice chuckled merrily.

The Delivery Of Evil

Twisted Imaginings – A Horror And Gore Themed Blog.

As the doorbell rang, Cheryl jumped. The pizza was early!
Heading to the door with the money, Cheryl straightened her dress. It had been a long day, not least of all because James had broken up with her, quite unexpectedly, the night before. James had been quite intense at times but this was new for him. Given to sullen fits, the tirade that erupted over a drink was terrifying but, if there was a silver lining to this, it was some peace for now.
The delivery driver didn’t smile as he proffered the boxes. Cheryl politely handed over the money, telling him to keep the change, and shut the door. 
Settling back on the sofa, she started unboxing the food, and then stopped. This wasn’t her order! She’d ordered the BBQ Supreme with wings and garlic bread but there wasn’t bread either. Heading out to the front of the property, she looked for the driver, who she found no sign of.
A frustrating call to the restaurant ended with her right order promising to be there within fifteen minutes, along with a full refund, so Cheryl breathed heavily and sat back, which is when she heard the thud.
Not from the front of her house, but she nonetheless looked out of her front window, when the same sound came from the rear of the house. Frightened now, Cheryl ran upstairs with her mobile.The back gardens had no access unless you were getting in from a neighboring property. Having established a lack of activity, Cheryl hesitated before calling James.
Cheryl’s heart leapt momentarily as James flat voice said, “What now?”.
Cheryl took another deep breath. “Umm, hi James. Look…I know now is the worst time possible but I think there’s an intruder here and I need your help!”.
There was a very long pause.
“I’m sorry”, James began. “I’m not happy with myself, never mind us, so if…”. Cheryl cut him short.
“No!! This is absolutely not an attempt to get you back! All I need….just please come and see what’s happened!”.
After a slightly shorter pause, James agreed.
Looking at her phone Cheryl realised it had been over twenty minutes since she had called the pizza place. Trying again she got an error message and was wondering why when there were 3 loud knocks on the door. Recognizing James distinctive knock with further confusion, she let him in.
Standing there awkwardly, Cheryl enquired how he had got there so quickly. James grunted and went to the back door.
“See! There’s nothing here! Can I go now?”, he groaned.
“No….wait”, Cheryl began. “It should have taken you longer to get here. Where were you?”.
“What?? Ugh…look I went out for a drive after work and I’m actually parked just round the corner from here”, James replied. “Look I know what I’m like, which is why I’d rather not be here. I’d better check upstairs. You go first”.
Cheryl walked up to the front bedroom as James hung up his coat. Entering the room she turned to the door as a solitary stream of light pulled up out front. “Oh, that’ll be….”, she began as she caught sight of James contorted grimace.
“Yeah, pizza is here baby. We need something to eat once we’re done!”, James leered, as he moved to allow the delivery driver into the bedroom​

The End Project

Twisted Imaginings – A Horror And Gore Themed Blog.

I don’t think anybody expected it, that crisp April morning in London. I just doesn’t happen. But, as with many others, eyes turned up toward that plane.
It came from behind me, that faint rumble, which at first sounded like a works truck or a lorry at speed. But, on turning, it was impossible to not to look up, as the jumbo jet careered intensely towards the city. It may well have been speeding up but that observation was rendered moot given its target; the city centre.
The crash and explosion were a blur as we instinctively leapt to the floor, screaming and crying. After the first initial roar of fire, heat and debris, a long, ominous noise called out, whether one wanted to hear it or not. There was obvious panic at first, this not being a regular occurrence, with those not still lying on the floor dazedly wandering. Thankfully the emergency services were exceptional during those days, weeks and painfully short two months for the nightmare hadn’t yet begun.
At least that’s what they think it was. It mutated, so those final victims have and obsolete version of whatever caused the others to change too. But you can’t get near The Living Dead, not even as a group. They’re like an advanced hunter-killer. Initially they appeared to resemble zombies, although while their body is humanoid in nature, they don’t resemble us much any more.
They have turned us into prey, you see. We are their game and their food. Their approach is methodical and pack led, almost regimental at times. And their intelligence improves rapidly, so attempts to thwart or hold them back is akin to holding back a tsunami.
To begin with they would simply attack us in a blind rage, but they soon learned to play with their food, guiding people into specific locations to unleash their vicious ire upon.
Those that could, and were willing to, fled for the sanity of the countryside. That’s where all that remains of Humanity heard the more dreadful part. For not just London had been hit. Major cities the world over had their plane crashes and mutant human hybrids, causing them to seek the open solace of fields too. But, like some insidiously demented sanctuary gone wrong, those undead yet angry eye to to our direction.
The last straggle of survivors from the menacing ruin that was London brought with them of a top secret Project called End Times. It seems that government the world over had some way of infecting its population. Hitting major cities was ideal as infection rates would be staggeringly high enough to ensure entire continents would see an unprecedented human genocide. Why that would happen will sadly remain a complete mystery, as their demonic plan has worked and we, in our current form, are no longer. What will become our our abberations is not something we will ever think about for they are coming. We can hear them!
So, my dear reader, if one should find this and has the heart. Think fondly of us, think fondly of our foolishness!