FRANKINTESTINES
The pendulum on the clock swung back and forth, each tick marking one second closer to when Victor would have to leave the warm embrace of his bed to put on worn out and uncomfortable clothing bought years ago from the bargain bin at Walmart. He would then have to gather his threadbare backpack and his meager school supplies before heading out into the cold November day to wait for the bus while freezing his nether regions off.
This was the trial that poor Victor had to face every weekday, which made it no wonder that he disliked school. His ragged clothing provided next to no protection agaisnt the cold; he might as well have gone out unclothed. He was not poor; his mother simply preferred to spend money on her own extravagant lifestyle instead of on her only child. She probably hadn’t yet noticed the archipelago of holes adorning almost all of Victor’s clothing, the rare times that she talked to him were mostly to snap at him about absences in school and low marks, trying to fool herself into thinking that she was a good parent. His father was no help either, he had walked away years ago to realize his dream of creating his very own stapler company. Staples held together the Canadian life, he’d said.
At school, Victor spent most of the time sitting alone, daydreaming over the monotonous drone of the teacher. He did not have any friends. His threadbare dress style certainly didn’t help, but it was more his odd interests. Years and years ago, his class had gone on a field trip to the police department. When the officer functioning as a tour guide had looked away, Victor slipped out, exploring by himself. He’d wound up in the morgue and had had a lot of fun poking and prodding at dead bodies before somebody had caught him. He’d retained and interest in the morbid ever since.
He’d later read “Alchemy and Occult for dummies” and expanded his interests, now considering himself quite the expert on alchemy, spirits and death. He soon started experimenting with these things.
When other children had been playing Call of Duty or having a scrimmage match of soccer, Victor had been up in his attic bedroom practicing his dark art. He’d started small, putting the souls of snails into slugs then resurrecting deceased worms and slowly progressed in complexity.
Tonight, in his dark chamber of horrors, he was putting the final touches on his finest creation. Tonight, he thought, the abiotic would become biotic, from dust life rose, to dust life returned and now it would rise again! Theodora Russell would rue the day she rejected his invitation to that school dance!
Pondering this evil things moved him to set off his long practiced evil laugh.
“Hehehehe Hahahaha HEHEHE HAHAHAHAHA HEHEH HAH-“
“Go to bed Victor!” came a feminine voice from a nearby room.
“Drat!” he muttered under his breath. His mother was home tonight. The Great Work of the apocalypse would have to wait until tomorrow.
The next day at school, Victor did his best to keep his excitement contained. Trying to seem like an ordinary poorely dressed boy who smelled slightly of formaldehyde and by complete coincidence had an interest in all things morbid. Through Math, Science and English he dreamed of what would become up in his dark dank laboratory. Several times he didn’t even notice that he had broken into giggling fits until his classmates started to give him odd looks.
At long last, the school day ended and Victor rushed towards home, stopping only at the cemetery to pick up some fresher body parts to complete his piece de resistance. He then walked out, giving the caretaker a nod and a smile, like any normal citizen.
As soon as he made it to his house, he rushed up to his attic and began assembling the last bits of his magnum opus.
“The nose is connected to the… knee? No that’s not right…” he muttered to himself. Not that the monster really needed a nose, only to reap destruction and horror. It was a demonic bringer of death, not a wine aficionado.
Finally, after many hours, he was ready to grant a soul and life to his creature of nightmares. It wasn’t exactly a dark and stormy night, but at least the sun was starting to go down.
He shoved aside two planks on the sloped ceiling, revealing a hole in the roof, right above the gruesome body. He then started chanting.
“Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit…” as Victor chanted, a storm gathered overhead. Unluckily, it was inside the room. Nevertheless, Victor pushed on with the chants, ending with a prodigious “Vivamus luctus!”
Just as those final words were uttered a rather wimpy crack was heard and a rather weak flash of light leapt down onto the body. One finger twitched. Then another. Then the beastly hell spawn stood up.
Victor would have liked to say that it was perfect, but really it was quite ugly. Where had that nose gone again? Maybe a moderate apocalypse would suffice.
“Monster, we will start with my mother. Attack!”
The beast moved not out through the door but instead started lumbering towards Victor. This was not supposed to happen.
“Not me you ignoramus, my mother!” a few more seconds and no change in direction. Victor started backing up.
“Monster stop! You must obey me and stop!” cried Victor, but it was to no avail. The monster slowly backed him into the corner, its wide body leaving no room to dart around it.
It now loomed over him, its mouth open in a toothless grin. Victor had forgotten those. Being killed by the creation meant to destroy others. How ironic thought Victor. He never should have dabbled in the dark arts. Instead, he could have made efforts to make friends and live a normal life.
Victor closed his eyes and waited for the end to come.
And waited…
And waited…
Suddenly a warmness washed over him, accompanied with a firm grip. Turns out that the monster just wanted a hug! Aww!
Other short odd story
“Drat!”
The cry cones from the road accompanied with a muffled bang. Misses looks up in an attempt to identify it’s source. Not finding it, she quickly goes back to her previous endeaver: resting. She shifts her shovel to the side to get in a more comfortable position.
“Who in all damnation would dig such a hole in THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD!!” Says the voice again, rising to a scream at the end.
Misses Heroine takes this as her time to leave this noisy place and continue on the road with her shovel.