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Horror Fiction
Kendrick's Monster
His Apical Sin
Chapter 1 Page 9
Kendrick's Monster
His Apical Sin
Chapter 1 Page 9
Its light chased away his sleep. Its heat broiled his dreams black and crisp.
'Gary Gilmore reportedly had an I.Q. of one hundred thirty. The man was no genius, but he was intelligent. He was sane. He knew right from wrong. Because of the way he grew up, it was no wonder that he became a notorious killer, yet, at the same time, his eventual fate was all the more puzzling, considering his potential. He might have done anything with his mind. His youngest brother became a writer. He was a respectable poet, himself.'
Outside his window, a car revved its too loud motor at the curb. Again and again, the sounds of it surged him lucid, before its driver shifted gears and sputtered away. Restless, he followed its movements with his hearing.
The world spun crazily. Helpless, he spun with it, until he felt fixed to its face by his feet like a slowly spinning hour hand. Time crawled in a sick spiral about his head.
'Once, when Gary was a young boy, his mother, Bessie, woke at the sensation of a vile touch to find an inhuman creature leering over her bed. Startled, she leapt up, only to see her husband's invalid mother, a self-professed medium, tottering across the floor, warning her to flee, claiming, 'Get out now! The beast knows who you are!' Moments later, Bessie found the same monster leaning over Gary in his own bed, its form hideous and demonic, its intentions twisted and malformed. It stared into the boy's eyes, and the boy stared back.
'Gary Gilmore reportedly had an I.Q. of one hundred thirty. The man was no genius, but he was intelligent. He was sane. He knew right from wrong. Because of the way he grew up, it was no wonder that he became a notorious killer, yet, at the same time, his eventual fate was all the more puzzling, considering his potential. He might have done anything with his mind. His youngest brother became a writer. He was a respectable poet, himself.'
Outside his window, a car revved its too loud motor at the curb. Again and again, the sounds of it surged him lucid, before its driver shifted gears and sputtered away. Restless, he followed its movements with his hearing.
The world spun crazily. Helpless, he spun with it, until he felt fixed to its face by his feet like a slowly spinning hour hand. Time crawled in a sick spiral about his head.
'Once, when Gary was a young boy, his mother, Bessie, woke at the sensation of a vile touch to find an inhuman creature leering over her bed. Startled, she leapt up, only to see her husband's invalid mother, a self-professed medium, tottering across the floor, warning her to flee, claiming, 'Get out now! The beast knows who you are!' Moments later, Bessie found the same monster leaning over Gary in his own bed, its form hideous and demonic, its intentions twisted and malformed. It stared into the boy's eyes, and the boy stared back.
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