Freak Town: Never visit at night


Freak Town: Never visit at night

A wild whistle, southern melody chased the trash on the street alongside the wind. Doors closed and locked, windows shut and sealed; lights off, voices down, the kids quick in the beds under the blankets – that all for the ordinary people.

Four boots stood a step away from the entrance of the town. Nice boots. A pair of sneakers silently aligned with them.

-   This does not look like a town where people live, does it? – The sneakers asked which for obvious vocal reasons belonged to a girl.

-         Not at all. More like a ghost town – answered the second pair of boots, husky male voice.

-         “Freaky Town” if I’m to be asked – interrupted them both the first pair of boots, a voice belonging to a person obviously pissed off.

-         Well anyways, let’s go in. It’s almost darkened. Might find some directions.

Not a sound welcomed them as they walked the dusty road separating the short buildings. Barber shop – dark and closed, pub – dead and empty, police station – not a presence at all, bakery – no sweet smell of bread, grocery – no car outside, no man carrying in fresh veggies.

No dogs, no cats, no birds. Nor a rattle snake.

The town seemed as if fallen in a deep sleep; a coma trapping it in some sort of vacuum. It didn’t appear to have been habited for a long, long time.

-         So a ghost town it is. I wonder how many of those are scattered around the state. People chased away from their homeland by the rough weather and the lack of supplies. – said the husky one

-   Or they all died here forgotten by everyone. Dehydrated perhaps. – suggested the sneakers.

-   Maybe some masked gang killed them back in the day? – asked again the husky voiced one.

-    Shut it you two! Listen…- the tenor had stopped and had a look on his face showing a highly concentrated expression.

But he was right. There was something to listen to. Somewhere up ahead the road the silence was disturbed, torn apart and tossed down in the dirt.

Music echoed in the distance, sounding like one of those rave parties minus the massive light show…ehm scratch that. Now that the sky was totally dark and the stars were vividly visible three lasers – a blue, a green and a red danced on the it.

-   What the…? – the trio started moving again, this time faster, driven by the mad curiosity of finding out who play’s music in a ghost town.

All of a sudden there were no more buildings belonging to the town but a large, empty field where the biggest open air Monster party was happening at the moment.

The strangers stood with open mouths and unbelieving eyes watching this freaky situation.

And how else could you watch such a parade.

Bug creatures danced holding glow sticks; horned monsters with fluorescent painted nightmare faces were shaking their tails; slimy six-legged thing with sunglasses seemed too wasted to move; purple three breasted female giant slow danced to a bat creature drinking something from a cat skull and smoking well weed; a giant DJ spider with green paint was spinning four different records from a quickly made stage, dropping sick beats for his fellow dream murderers to shout and dance to as if entranced; an alien was making out with a two-headed lion, giraffe, bull thing by his space ship; a reptile monster flying in the air was throwing down all sorts of insides from cattle; and even the horror version of cookie monster was here! Thousands of children’s and their parent’s childhood worst nightmares were having a party in the middle of nowhere. And no one knew.

But if they did, and could see how their worst fears, the real monsters break dance, do the robot or shuffle, they would think they’re still dreaming. Or are insane. Or both.

The bass was too loud for the three humans to speak to each other. Sneakers made a step back but her back hit something solid as rock. She turned to face a stone creature with a plastic cup in hand and flaming eyes eating her alive.

The music stopped. The eyes of the night, the spies from under the beds and inside the closets, the books and movies inspirations for generations turned to the travelers; their burning monster eyes were mocking; the terrifying black faces blending with the night smiled to them with sharp grins showing rotten, smelly teeth, which the monsters licked with long and sticky tongues that dripped saliva, and tasted the fresh and juicy human flesh willingly walking on their party. Small giggles to maniacal and perverted laughs and screams made the trio shiver and pray.

-  You shouldn’t have come here at night humans. – The golem took a sip from his tequila filled cup and slowly with disturbing pauses introduced the three to his understanding of laughing. Emotionless.

They screamed from the top of their lungs and made a run for their lives.

An explosion of more laughs and roars chased after them. The music started again.

This party wouldn’t end until early morning. And only with its closing time this freaky town had an exit. Thus leaving plenty of time for hunting.


 Friday flash! 

Run, run!

The lights of the night club were blinding him. Blue, purple, yellow, green blinking insanely under the rhythm of electro music, a nasty noise in his ears, shouting alongside with the chaos in his head.

He tripped almost falling from the sidewalk and dropped his backpack. Didn’t bother picking it up. White dots and red dots danced in front of his eyes, and to his amusement fitted perfectly to the music now left behind him.

The security of the strip club across the street raised an eyebrow suspiciously. He probably thought him to be drunk or drugged, or both.

A car honk made the man’s hearth flip in his chest. Some Mercedes was cleaning his way on the street, chasing the crowd back to the sidewalks.

Is this how rabbits felt when being chased? Imagining every little, unimportant movement to be a terrifying sound, a prediction for danger?

He pushed himself into a few people, who immediately shouted something to him.

Mind block. He didn’t hear.

He was too afraid to think anything else but how to escape, where to run.

With Death catching up on you there aren’t many places you can go to. And for what he knew the bony Ripper could be waiting on the next corner, or reflect his sharp smile in any showcase.

I’m coming” screamed a voice in his head

He constantly looked over his shoulder but the night had turned all faces into one ugly grimace, one grinning face, a black canvas with white teeth and glimmering red eyes.

So he ran, and ran, and ran, racing with time, hoping that if he runs fast enough the day will come sooner and salvation will be somewhere in the morning light.

But time as always had nothing to do with ones survival once he’s been damned.  Then it’s over before it even began.

16 hours earlier. India, Mumbai 09:15 AM

The tour guide gestured, and waved a yellow stick in the air trying to center the attention of the tourists towards her. For a moment it seemed as if she was talking to absolutely no one. They all just stood there, people in t-shirts and shorts, feeling like melting under the hot sun. Some of them moved, dragging their feet on the dry ground only to show some signs of life. Probably the voice of Alice – their tour guide for this expensive vacation – was reaching their inner mind, and the words were being registered on some level of understanding, but this was as far as it went.

She couldn’t blame them. Six years in the business and honestly she had learned that tourists tend to a – start shopping in the very last-minute gifts for family and friends and b – have the amazing ability to slack and just start admiring the surrounding, expressing nostalgia for a place they haven’t even left yet.  She sat on one bench, looking at her watch – there was enough time to get to the airport and catch the plane before it flies off Mumbai.

Alice just sighted and opened a bottle of water. Then her attention got caught by one of the tourists. He was standing before one souvenir stall, just staring at it. Philip was it? Yes that was his name. Alice thought she’d seen him there fifteen minutes ago, standing there not buying anything .She shrugged her arms

-         Tourists.

Back at the stall Philip, a tall blond man was tempted in purchasing a small encrusted jewelry box and a pair of earrings for Betty. She had a thing for such sentimental, useless stuff. He made his mind and pulled his wallet out of the backpack. While handing over the money his eye sight crawled once again on all the souvenirs. From key holders saying “Welcome to Mumbai” and fridge magnets in the shape of India, calendars with sights from the city, to rings, earrings, bracelets and t-shirts, a bronze coin stood up with its different nature. It wasn’t money valued and it seemed to Philip too old and a bit rusty. The stall owner searched for change, and Philip took the opportunity to reach a hand a touch its rough and ancient surface. He didn’t know why but it felt like he was doing something wrong, forbidden.

-         You no touch that if not punished by *Lakshmi. It’s bad luck foreigner.

-         I’m sorry… – Philip saw fear in the man’s eyes and quickly draw his hand from the coin.

-         Poor man. Bad luck man.- the stall owner came closer to him – Fool man, death will now come. **Mrityu will follow you until you die. Run, run!

-         Sorry – repeated Philip not knowing that else to say and moved away from the stall.

He saw his group assembling near a bench and with few fast steps stood by them.

-         All right people listen up – Alice lifted the yellow stick high – Time to go home. Please keep up with the group, don’t get separated. Try to move together through the crowd, because if someone gets lost we won’t be able to get on the plane. Come on now. To the taxi’s.

“What are we – kids?”  Philip heard an elderly man say.

Soon after that he got into one of the taxi’s with the very same guy, but not being able to listen to his rumblings put on his headsets and played some music. It was a weird end of the trip, with that scary death prediction the salesman gave him, but Philip thought “what the hell, advertisement can be freaky sometimes”.  He didn’t believe in such things. The memory flew away faster than the taxi was driving. Another song began making Phil smile and enjoy the ride even more – Stevie Wonder with Superstition. Irony ey? He sang the lyrics in mind happy he’s going home.

“Seven years of bad luck Good things in your past…”

*Lakshmi is the Hindu Goddes of wealth

**Mrityu in hinduism is Death, the End of all Life

It was 2009 and the sky was burning

 Flash fiction…Monday. Enjoy. 

It was 2009 and the sky was burning

It was 2009 and the sky was burning. Flaming clouds covered the horizon with their yellow-orange color, whilst others were smoldering in purple-blue, disappearing, and melting into the vast.

Fire danced on the streets as well, on what was left from the buildings, on fallen threes, on the faces and clothes of hundreds of people screaming, running.

Flaming rain was pouring from the sky.

It rained upon us from the thousands of thousands small ships that were in contrast with the seeking hideout people below.

Our cities were thundering, and shaking, and crumbling as the Martian ships continue to light up the sky with flames, slowly tumbling it towards the ground.

2009 was the year in which we found out we are not alone and in which we died terrified and confused and still stubbornly refusing to accept the fact that Martians, or aliens as a whole are not simply someone’s imagination.

They turned our world into a half-hour, ultrasound symphony, with fireworks and cascades, with blood and dust and then were gone leaving only…blood and dust.

Taken from the archives of the last living among the others dead M.K

People are clever. They are sneaky in many ways.

Some have remained after the attack. A few always do, and they are just enough to reproduce and start crawling again on their destroyed planet, creating some sort of comfort out of the total chaos; some order to adjust with their messed up brains at the moment.

Then after some time the cities are back to being cities and the offspring of that survived group Homo sapiens has filled up the pages of the newly added register.

Basically everything is back to normal; the sky is blue and all. And it’s quiet.

However there is this reminder, a little piece of old paper folded into four, which tells the story of the last moment of the mighty human race, not as an elegy or a poem but as a simple objective observation of the happening written in past tense by a man hidden from the wrecks in the possession of a pen and a ragged paper. Truth be told, it probably has been rewritten a couple of times, but the main sense of it is still there- some very nice and simple details of how it all suddenly ends. Reality check.

Now this is the only existing archive or as everyone sees it as -the Holly bible of the new people. Do we all believe it to be genuine, to be true, or not…hard to tell. Some do. Some don’t. Absolutely human behavior, never can decide on one thing.

But of course there is this tall, massive monument in the centre of the First city, reminding vividly what had happened in 2009, with no names, only date and year. No one remembers the names really.

It took only one look for those who hadn’t attended to know that something had happened.

And yet again a part of them believed that someone’s imagination had exaggerated, colored a bit the end of the Ancient World, adding the presence of some aliens, more particularly Martians.

Something had wiped out our ancestors, undoubtedly, but human war, or some disease. Just an old-fashioned way for everyone to die.

The aliens were now just a legend told by the elders, the founders and taken away by the parents too. Aliens were the new monsters under children’s beds and in their closets just like Boogeyman had been in the past. They were simply a tale, a fiction bedtime story to frighten the little ones.

Alas no.

Now the year is 2322 and the sky is burning again. Flaming clouds illuminate high above, licking the visible horizon with fiery tongues. To the west, falling. fading like smoke, are other clouds. Dead ones. Grey ones. Or purplish-blue.

Furious little alien ships are carving Tic-Tac-Toe on our homes, our streets, while our families and friends run, screaming.

Behind them, ponderously making its way through the sea of burning clouds the Mother ship arrives, huge and silver, shading the day with its humongous body. It roars.

I, a living amongst dead in the possession of writing attributes quickly draw a sad and bitter end. It is an end.

And I sincerely doubt that the Martians will repeat the mistake they made 313 years ago.


101 fiction story originally written for Lily Child’s Friday Prediction. Enjoy :) 


The carousel was barely turning, its lights flickering like dying fireflies; the music almost becoming a distorted sound, the melody of many broken music boxes combined into one crying symphony.

The horses, poor wooden things butchered on posts with the paint falling off had their seats empty.

They had been like that for ages.

The Joker gripped tighter on his whip.

Mr. Spy had told him the children weren’t spinning his toy fast enough.

Turned out he was right.

The Joker approached the souls, his shadow emerging upon hundred tortured little faces and he raised hand preparing to strike punishment.



They’ve assembled us 05:30 in the morning.

It was cold, dark and the rain was pouring straight into our eyes and souls.

My clothes felt heavy on my and I was soaked to my bones. I usually don’t like rain.

We were escorted to a couple of old Humvees that drove us near the ocean.

When the road ended, we got off and were told to walk in line down to the beach.

 By the time we got there the sky had brightened just enough to see for another step, but it still was a shitty grey.


And the rain had stopped.

I observed the ocean, angry, crawling on the sand, wanting to take, to steal something and drown it deep inside it’s always hungry mouth.

I shivered imagining that terrifying creature of nature, its icy water and how soon I would have to go into it. Give myself to the beast.

We aligned facing the disturbingly calm waves.

A man in military uniform stood before us. He took his time before speaking; his face was harsh and old like a carved stone. When he spoke his voice was raspy. His words were no surprise to me. I had heard them many times before, one way or another.

Here and now was going to be the very last time.

- You think it’s true?

A boy to my left asked lowering his voice.

I looked at him with the corner of my eye and answered his whisper.

- For what I know.

The boy swallowed. He wasn’t nervous. He understood, he knew, just like me and everybody else that if this was true, all would change; not only science and religion but the very basics of nature itself. We would change forever. And somehow that was beautiful just as it was frightening.

“You were chosen” said the general.

Ah, yes. Indeed we were, and for bastards like us it should be a privilege. After all the hard months of testing and being injected with all kinds of chemical compounds, now we actually felt chosen. Godlike if must.

The general made another pause before giving us the final words, those that spoke of humanity’s dreams for eons. My fears and worries of disappointment instantly flew away; my hearth was released of all doubts.

I realised I am proud of hearing them. For once I felt like doing something right, something of worth. Finally I had found my way towards recognition.

So I smiled to myself and simply enjoyed the melody of what he said:

“Ten months ago you were all gathered for one glorious and at first impossible task. And after many,many days, today, here you will become the first humans to enter a world Unexplored, Unknown and Ancient. You, soldiers of humanity will be the first to touch the golden gates of the lost city Atlantis!”

A powerful “Hurrah!” welcomed the words of the general.

Then two men in white lab cloths who were silent to this moment simply standing near, walked to us carrying ten bracelet devices. Grabbing the wrists of each of us they planted them and turned on the tracking system. There was a slight painful sensation. Trust was something precious to the people standing behind all this.

At last we were ready. It began,

All ten men walked into the water preparing for the dive.

The journey would be long, we knew.

But as the immortal sons of science, the ultimate versions of human kind we were prepared and we dived into the ocean to break all reason and sense, to create a new revolution, building it from a myth, by finding and reconstructing Atlantis piece by piece.

One proud thought circulated in my head as I dived. It was set to those simple-minded unbelievers inhabiting this old world- I wished them patience until we bring dreams to reality.

The depths welcomed us.

The Claw

Friday Flash !

The Claw

The machine was quiet, not moving high above their heads, hidden in its own shadow. It was a black monster with hungry claws and all of them had a good reason to fear it- once it got a hold of you there was no coming back.

They stood silent beneath it not knowing when it might strike again. The wounded bodies of their friends lied around them.

There was no escape from this prison. None of them remembered how they got here in the first place.

They couldn’t tell how much time had passed since they’ve been battling with the beast. Many they’ve saved, but some were lost forever.

They prayed for them to be in a better place.

Marty Cotton sat down tired. His arm was hurting from the fight. Today The Claw had taken little Smith.

Clara Fur was worried about him.

-We need to help him. Pull him on his feet. I’m afraid he’ll go insane after today.

Joseph Skin slowly nodded:

-  Aye. If he gets lost, same goes for us. We don’t need everyone to panic. Let me talk to him.

Joseph sat next to his friend.

- You ok chief?

- Stop calling me that Joe. I’m nobody. Useless.

-  Not all is lost boy. It wasn’t your fault.  Listen, these kids depend on you. Look at them.

Marty lifted his head. He saw scared faces, trembling souls; curled up bodies in the corner waiting for the worst to happen. They needed desperately someone to tell them everything is going to be ok. Alas Marty couldn’t find such strength in his heart.

- I can’t be the hero. I can’t protect all. – His face twitched from the sudden movement of his wounded arm. Then he stared at the floor again, silent.

Joseph spoke louder:

-  If not you then who? From the start you’ve been our hope. For you all of us kept fighting and dreaming of a different life. And through us you found something, a driving force. You are a leader Marty. This is who you are. Don’t give up on us yet. Don’t let us choose death.

Marty looked at Joseph. He meant what he just said. Everyone was smiling and nodding, agreeing. Clara too.

- You…think so? – He asked with a trembling voice.

-  When have I lied to you?

Marty stood up.

- I made a promise. I’ll keep it. We will all be free, without fear, without pain and without lost friends.

Everyone cheered. The energy filled him. He felt complete again.

Marty opened his mouth to say something else when a loud buzzing noise silenced all the joy.

Out of the darkness The Claw came, fast and furious, hungry for their flesh. The sharp fingers glistened while it speeded down towards the group.

- Quick everyone move! To the left! NOW! – Marty watched Joseph hug Clara and pull her towards the left corner.

The Claw was few inches from them, metal mouth opened, roaring.

Marty knew what to do next. It was the only possible thing to prevent a death.

He ran towards the swinging mechanical monster and jumped grabbing on one of the sharp claws.

- Marty no! – Screamed Clara, reaching out a hand to him.

-  Don’t worry. He knows what he’s doing- yelled Joseph.

Before Marty could move The Claw sensed it had caught something and instantly closed.

Clara’s heart skipped a beat. But she dared look up.

And she gasped.

Marty was alive, half climbed up the long, tin body of the monster, only his leg trapped inside.

-  Marty! –shouted Clara.

-  I’m fine- he said to her and then whispered to himself- I’ll finish this once and for all.

It started lifting up, back into its layer.

“Goodbye” he said in mind, looking down until he couldn’t seem them.

The machine stopped and Marty felt the grip of The Claw loosen up and he pulled his leg out. He then climbed to the very top.

-  So here is the place where everyone disappears into? – There was a big hole a bit bellow to his right, light came through it.

He jumped from the tip of The Claw to a narrow edge right above the socket. The same second a strong shake made Marty nearly fall.

-  Whoa!

He griped tight to the wall and waited for it to cease. Then carefully he turned around, back to the wall, face to The Claw.                                                                                                             He needed a plan.

A bit unsure Marty putted his legs on the side of The Claw and with the remaining strength tried swinging it. It was very heavy and his arm and leg were bursting with pain. Few pushes and it barely touched the opposite wall. Another hard one and it scratched it a little.

- Come on! – shouted Marty and with a final swing The Claw hit the wall so hard something broke very loud.

The “neck” thing holding the head of The Claw had cracked open, cables coming from inside; some of the claws had folded inwards, a final impulse of the dead machine trying to close them properly making out an awkward buzzing sound.

The Claw was defeated. Marty looked at its large, now deformed, hanging to one side body and couldn’t help but to cheer.

He did it.

Marty felt his knees giving up on him and fainted, feeling like he was flying.


The boy kicked the Claw machine again.

-    Stupid game! – He had caught a toy bear for his girlfriend but it didn’t come out from the hole. Then when he tried to put another coin the whole bloody thing just died, power off.

-   Someone fix this crap! It’s only eatin’ people’s money.

-   Come on John!

-    Coming… – John looked inside the glass box deciding between the pink rabbit and the crocodile for the next time he plays when the machine is fixed.

Then he turned away and walked to his girlfriend.


One more chance

Yesterday on my way back from university something out of the ordinary caught my eye. I thought it deserves a story, and here it is. 

Enjoy this short piece of fiction!

One more chance

It was a bit of a sad picture really. The story was told with such disappointment in the voice, and obviously was something that had happened before.

And it was one of those situations to which not many could relate, but at least admit how heartbreaking it truly is. There was great sorrow.

They kept talking, one telling, the other listening with compassion and searching for an advice.

Some man walked past them, not paying any attention to their conversation.

-  This is the fifth time he does this! For a month period! I can’t believe I got fooled again. I mean how hard is it to remember? How hard? It’s not rocket science!

-  Maybe ‘s got some problems?

-  Being drunk again I might say. But that’s not a problem for him. It’s all his doing 24/7! I know he is hurt but for the love of… “Put yourself together man”, that’s what I’ve been telling him. And who’s listening? No one!

There was a deep breath.

- He can’t expect from me to forgive him every time right? A line has to be drawn somewhere am I right?

Suppose there are som limits and is ok to be mad at im’, but where ya gonna go?

Silence interrupted the conversation.

- I don’t know. Somewhere.

Then silence fell for the second time, remaining for a bit longer. Soon a trembling voice spoke again.

- I’m scared you know. He’s all I have. I don’t want to go with anyone else. I want to be home. I want to be happy as before.

The fear was shortly moved away by a new wave of anger, perhaps brought my the memory of lost days of happiness.

- And last time that almost happened! Some creepy old man wanted to take me with him. Who’s to say this time it won’t happen? He hasn’t showed up yet, and it’s late! I’m such an idiot!

E’ll come. Cause’ he always does right? You told me he always comes. He wouldn’t leave ya on purpose. Their just like that. Stupid and clumsy ya know? I’ve seen. Mean I’ve observed for some long time, and gotta tell ya a truth, nothin’s more stupid them em’. But eventually they remember. Don’t ya worry. He needs ya. So you calm down, and believe in im’.

- You think? Oh, I hope you are right. Because…because if he doesn’t come here in an hour, I’m walking away with the first stranger that comes! If he can’t value me, so won’t I! Respect him that is! Do you mind staying with me? Just until…

-  Course s’ no problem. I’ll wait.

- Thank you.

A couple stopped for a kiss few steps from them. The boy hugged his girl tighter, closer to him protecting her from the chilling evening air. Soon they became silhouettes in the distance.

- You know you are right. He does need me – There was something in the couple that gave light to the problem, and the voice had cheered up – I’ll give him one more chance. I suppose I’m not ready to give up on him. Besides that I know I’m the one and only good coat he’s got and I feel I should be taking care of him. For as long as I can.

The bird nodded in approval and jumped on one of the tree’s branches where the old, out of fashion dark-blue coat hanged.

The two of them then waited quietly as the park started to darken.