Some Random Short Story

I ran across this story messing around with one of my old computers.  I barely remember writing it, it was from a time of lots of beer and liquor in my life.  And Lovecraft if you can imagine that.  I just read through it quickly and decided to throw it on here with this little intro and no editing.  Hope you enjoy it.

I hear skertching on the outside door.

Wait, that’s not how it’s spelled….

Skeratch, skratch, scratch,

Screw me, spelling was never my best suit and now that there’s not too many people to read this I should just go with the flow. Heck, mankind was knee deep in texting when this all started so if I were a bit younger this would be filled with wtf, lol, brb and yolo. Maybe someone else saved an explaination of those for whoever is reading this. I feel bad if an entire race is judged on…

Now there’s thumping. Something large.

I think I’m in my 40s. The first few years of destruction made it hard to count the days. It was a lot of running, hiding, fighting with your fellow man and fighting with those things. Creatures that weren’t from this Earth. Or were, maybe they’re just older than anything we know. Just had been sleeping. I remember reading about someone who had revived a frog that had been sealed in a building. Used electricity to revive it. Maybe a few nukes woke these things up.

I’m trying not cuss. My parents taught me well.
Maybe for nothing.

Basically someone decided to start World War 3. The news said North Korea but it was fuzzy. I also heard China and some splinter group from Russia. Someone launched a few missiles from that area and everyone blamed everyone else. So everyone shot at everyone else. Boom.

The East coast and the West coast were the worst hit. I was lucky to be in the middle of the country. Fallout is pretty ugly, just ask the few people that came by shambling with oozing sores and all their hair falling out. Depending on who met them they were turned away or shot…

Something is pressing against the door. That damn thing weighs 2 tons. 3 feet thick. I’m sitting here with a beaten up rifle that sure won’t stop whatever busts in here. One guy once told me whatever gun you have is only for yourself. Blow your brains out before those things get ahold of you. I was told what they do is worse than death. And the few corpses with the swelling and the holes from things bursting in and out…


I hate guard duty.
I think it’s moved on.
Quiet. Quiet outside.



I want fast food. A big greasy burger. Fries. Curly fries. Dammit.



Are they mutants? Caused by radiation? I don’t think so. Mankind has made a way to kill everything it knows. Movies and comic books change around what happens when an Earth born creature is exposed to radiation. Real life they die. Melting quickly or slowly. What’s outside can’t be from the Earth. Just sealed in the Earth. Ancient Astronauts, but bigger and with more tentacles…


I hate 12 hour shifts. Jacobs killed himself 2 days ago so we’re back to…
I don’t like that noise outside.


If something happens I will not kill myself. I will go down fighting. After the bullets I have fists and teeth. I will fight.

I’m all riled up. Sorry.
It worries me, I killed the small ones. About man-sized, like if you combined a frog and a gorilla. Big under-bite. I’ve got scars on my left arm from that bite. Thick skin.
I hate thinking about this. Remembering this. I hate the fact I’ve killed a living creature.

Especially something that seemed close to human.
I haven’t seen the big ones up close. They seem to act like a 1950s giant monster, just stomping and smashing everything in their path. They’re the ones with the tentacles.


I’ve had to start drinking coffee, we can’t make cokes.
Ugh this stuff tastes like crap.
Something pressing against the door again.


They say the big ones can sense us. And can speak to us through our mind. They may influence our dreams. Or that’s what they say. Crap.
I miss football.
And my cats.
I found this bunker by accident, glad that the folks here let me in.
Ryan is here early. I told him about something pressing against the door so we went and inspected it. Bolts were pushed out a bit. Frame ok.
Ryan says: “What if we just open the door and run out there? There’s more to the world than what we are living.”
I look at him. Do I know what’s outside? No. If he’s such a fool to deal with what the world has become I’ll hold the door open for him.
But then I realize I need rest.


“Do whatever you want to do, I need some rest. These 12 hour shifts are killing me.”

Ryan is gone.


Well, his body is right outside the door.

They said his mind was torn asunder by one of the big ones. We had at least 4 hours with no protection at that door. Idiot.


They want me to guard the door all day, every day. I am already worn out on these 12 hour shifts. Now I get to put a cot in front of this giant door and deal with what is happening outside.

I miss the touch of a woman.
No one comes to visit me.


What if I open the door? Only the strong survive and I am strong.
I am done. My mind tells me I want to lick blood off of my knuckles. Either I go outside and fight what I don’t know or go back down the tunnels and smash the life out of humanity. Or whatever. I’ve been left here.

I hear an echo from outside.

I miss my family.
I miss my cats.
I am rage, I am strength, I will go out and destroy that which is not human.




it tastes like strawberry jam on my knuckles


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