The Mothman Reborn Epilogue

20 Apr

Daryl woke up to find his body healed. He looked whole, as if he hadn’t been in a fight at all. ‘Was it all a dream?’ he thought as he stood up. He didn’t know. He couldn’t figure out how he ended up in a ditch outside the power plant if was a dream, but he was completely unmarked. He did know one thing though, he felt a lot stronger, more than he had ever felt before.

He looked towards the city. The festival must have shut down for the night; his mother must have been worried by now… He faced towards home and walked down the road in the peaceful darkness.

It was an old house. It needed a lot of care, with the grass growing uncontrollably and the paint chipping unbearably, the house resembled a dying shack than a home, but with his mother working two jobs, she had little time to do  anything about it and his father had left them a long time ago.

Daryl walked inside to find his mother, asleep on the couch, the TV on, the news blaring like a megaphone. He looked over to her sleeping body, seeing her shiver, he draped a discarded blanket lying on the floor on top of her. Tucking her in gently, he turned his attention to the TV and was about to turn it of when he saw what looked like a door with claw marks running across it.

Daryl felt his heart stop as he turned the volume low and sank into an easy chair.

The Holler residence appeared, looking normal until the newsman interviewed the Hollers themselves. disheveled and frightened, they retold their story, claiming they were visited by the mothman.

Daryl’s body shook. ‘Was that me?’ he thought, ‘Was all that real?’

Another voice answered from inside that made him shiver, ‘Yes, it was.’

The Mothman Reborn Part 5

20 Apr

‘Where are you going? Weren’t you going to destroy Kevin, his family and the rest of this shit-hole town?’

‘I’m not going to do that,’ thought Daryl, ‘I’m going back to my body and I’m never doing this again.’

‘Our body, you mean,’ it said, ‘You can’t get rid of me now, and I can control you and everything myself if I have to.’

“I won’t let you,” Daryl said aloud.

‘Oh? You really think so? Your body is as good as mine. You’re weak! It’s why that Holler kid picked on you so bad. You couldn’t do what needed to be done because you’re a scared little bitch. When we get back to my body, I’m locking you up so tight in my subconscious that even in my dreams I won’t hear your insignificant bitching.’

…”You really think so?”

Daryl saw his body right where they left it. With a flash of light, they entered inside. Daryl found himself in an empty white room.

“Hello, Daryl,” said a voice behind him.

Daryl turned around to see a light-blue man standing behind him, with large black eyes and slits for nostrils. His arms and legs were long, with three digits on each. His mouth was large with great sharp teeth.

Daryl smirked. “You must be the jerk who hi-jacked my body. What’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know that. You’ll be locked up in here forever.”

“Not if I lock you up first,” said Daryl.

The being laughed. “I am intelligence! I know more about the mind than anyone else. What makes you think you can beat me?”

“I spend enough time in my head,” said Daryl, “I think I take you.”

“I will miss your misguided notions.”

The being changed into its white, red-eyed form; it’s mandible chattering like a hungry bug.

Daryl grinned as he turned into the black form he took on at the Holler house.

“Cute. Your pitiful form vs. mine. Ready to lose yourself, boy?”

“Shut up and fight, body snatcher!”

Daryl’s hands grew and stretched, gripping the creature inside. It burned and Daryl released him quickly.

It had changed into a spiny ball of fire. Unrolling itself, it changed its hands into missile launchers, shooting enormous ionic orbs towards Daryl.

Daryl, shrank and twisted around them, moving closer. The being’s arms shifted again into swords, slashing out at him. Daryl’s left arm became a large shield. He pushed forward as the being jumped over the shield and cutting Daryl’s back.

Daryl winced. “Had enough?” said the being.

“You wish!”

Daryl threw his shield at the being. It dodged. Daryl raised his fists and shot ionic darts out of his knuckles. The being charged forward with his own shield, catching the darts like a giant board. Then Daryl’s shield hit him in the back of the head, sending him forward into Daryl enlarged fists.

The being, fallen and dented, stood up as if unphased. “You show a lot of promise. But that means nothing if you’re gone.”

“Funny,” said Daryl, panting, “I was going to say the same thing.”

Daryl’s knees shook. He felt weaker somehow. And why did the being look like he was getting bigger?

“You alright?” asked the being, smiling.

“I’m fine!” said Daryl, defiantly, “Just worry about yourself.”

Daryl’s hands elongated and sharpened as he charged into the being, slashing and tearing into its shadowy body, but to no avail. It wasn’t affecting him at all, and the whole time he seemed to be growing.

“You amuse me, Daryl Leroy Kerns. You can’t hurt me that way. It is pointless for you to continue. Just give up.”

“I won’t give up!” Daryl tore into the being again and again, ripping and shredding through the shadowy body as quickly as he could, but it was useless. Its body reassembled and linked and fastened together as if a master seamstress was hard at work fixing a ravaged rag doll.

Daryl grew extremely tired from all of this, and though he was causing the most damage, the being grew bigger with every strike.

“Have you figured it out yet, Daryl?” asked the being, his mouth wide and eyes calculating, “I’ll just tell you then: the longer we fight, the greater my hold on you. I have been absorbing your life force, your spiritual essence. Soon I will have undisputed control over your body and you will be a distant speck of a memory deep in my subconscious.”

Daryl’s face filled with terror. It had been a distraction the entire time. This battle was nothing but a time waster, allowing the being to assimilate into Daryl’s body.

“Too bad you’re too exhausted to do anything about it,” it said, creating a large ball of energy in its hands. “Any last words before your soul is disintegrated?”

“I’m not done yet!” Daryl shouted.

“Stupid boy,” said the being throwing the ball at Daryl. The ball of energy passed right through and Daryl felt some of his strength returning.

“What?!” shouted the being, “You… You should be gone.” It created another ball and threw it, but Daryl only absorbed it. Comprehension dawned on Daryl’s face.

“You miscalculated, creature,” said Daryl, smiling, “You may have been absorbing my essence and gaining control of my body, but it seems its a two way street. Now that I know what to do, I think I will be taking my body back now.”

The being smiled. “You’re so naive. Just because you know the trick doesn’t mean you can replicate it. Try it! I dare you!”

“Since you asked so nicely…”

Daryl ripped into the being again with his claws, this time taking a great chunk out of it. The being screamed at the touch and fell. Again Daryl ripped and tore into the being, tearing out chunks and strips, absorbing them and growing until the being was nothing but a head.

“Please,” said the being, “Have mercy on me!”

Daryl smiled his wide toothy smile. “No,” he said, and opening his mouth he swallowed what remained of the being.

The Mothman Reborn Part 4

20 Apr

Daryl’s hand expanded and like a whip, he smacked Kevin across the face, sending him flailing into his closet doors. Kevin’s body shook, terror spreading on his face like butter slathered toast. His hair turned white, and Daryl couldn’t help but laugh as he began to detect urine in the air.

Daryl’s mouth opened wide, showing his large, sharp teeth, as he laughed at Kevin’s horror. His arms stretched and wrapped around Kevin’s body, squeezing, feeling his fragile body like holding a kitten. He picked him up and slammed him against the ceiling and then throwing him into the wall. Kevin wailed as he bounced off his bed and onto the floor.

The door swung open and Daryl spun his head around to see two bewildered parents, intent on checking on their precious, baby boy, lose control of their legs and collapse into heaps in the hallway.

Daryl smiled as his body turned in the same direction as his head. He hovered over to the fallen parents, his fingers elongating and sharpening to points. Kevin’s father drew himself onto his wife, staring directly into Daryl’s eyes.

“Please, don’t hurt my family! I don’t know what you are, but… Please don’t hurt them!”

Daryl extened a clawed hand to Kevin’s father’s chissled chin, gently scratching the surface, little pools of blood forming as if he cut himself shaving.

Trembling he said, “Hurt me if you want, but please don’t hurt my family!”

Daryl grabbed him by the throat and thrust his arm through the window, breaking the glass with Mr. Holler’s body. Daryl grinned as he saw and bloody glass shards protruding from the window frame, and like rubber band, the rest of his body joined Mr. Holler at the window.

“Mercy!” choked out Mr. Holler, “Please, don’t kill me!”

Daryl’s hand trembled. Mercy… He seemed to remember begging for the same thing countless times in his many beatings from Kevin. Never once had he relented; never once did he show any remorse. Why should he? He looked around the room. It seemed that Kevin and he had many of the same comic book heroes–Batman being one of them.

What would Batman do?

Daryl’s arm came back inside, his fingers becoming normal and clawless. He set Mr. Holler on the ground and gave one last look at the room. It was a mess. Understatement to be sure. Mrs. Holler was crawling towards her boy, who seemed to be catatonic. Eyes wide open, mouth closed tightly, arms and legs stiff, his body curled into the fetal position, not moving, not making a sound.

Daryl felt so ashamed. So like lighting, he bolted out the window into the darkness.

The Mothman Reborn Part 3

20 Apr

The Mothman Reborn Part 3

Daryl awoke on his stomach, his head facing the power plant. It looked better in the darkness. Encapsulated by the night made it look more peaceful, quiet; it looked more like a comforting place, away from people, away from the world.

Consciousness overcame him with pain and misery from his arms and stomach. The punch to the back of the head left him a little addled inside, but his fingers and wrist wailed the most. Moving them was difficult, and he could not lift himself up off the ground. Maybe it was best to just lie there for a minute… or eternity. What difference did it make? Soon he would be healed just in time to be broken again…

Then, like a power switch flicking on, a bright light beamed down on Daryl that filled him with dread. The hairs on his arms and legs stood on end and he felt a tiny surge through his body like every nerve ending jolting at once, pulsing electricity in bursts, pumping throughout until he finally turned over on his back.

His eyes gaped; if he hadn’t felt so wired he would probably have fainted from the shock and terror thumping in his mind. Hovering above him was something like a ghost, white, almost translucent, red glowing eyes, and a chattering set of insect mandibles.

Daryl’s body began to quiver and shake, but suddenly stopped as he heard a voice in his head.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ said the creature telepathically, ‘I will not hurt you. I only want o give you what you want.’

“I, I don’t want anything!” shouted Daryl, “Pu, please, leave me alone!”

‘Of course you want something,’ it said, ‘Everyone wants something. I could give you power. Power to destroy your enemies.’

“I, I’m alright,” said Daryl, “Please don’t hurt me.”

‘I will not harm you,’ it said, ‘I will remake you. Make you stronger. Don’t you want your revenge? We, together, could stop Kevin Holler from ever hurting you again. You could live without fear; with me, you would have no peer, able to live in peace. Isn’t that what you want?’

Daryl was tired. He was sick of running away from Kevin, sick of Kevin never getting expelled from school because his father was superintendent, sick of being weak and being picked on… Power… Peerless… Peace… Could he have these things, for real?

‘Perhaps you need some convincing. Let me show you what I can do for you.’

The monster shivered and shook, its molecules moving faster, appearing and disapearing, like static on a television set. Moving closer, it entered Daryl’s body through every pore, consuming his body and mind. Screaming, Daryl blacked out for a second time that night.

Not blacked out… more like released. Daryl looked down from his new vantage point far above his body. He must of been 20 feet high, hovering over his lifeless body, laying on the side of the road.

He looked at his hands to see they had no shape, except for a pitch-black, blobby-like, gaseous fluid. He felt solid, but as he reached for his body, his arms stretching to unimaginable lengths, his new hands passed right through it, feeling the warmth inside and the familiarity, the knowing that it was his body and that only he fit properly inside.

‘This is our astral form,’ said the voice, ‘We can remain in this state for a limited time. We will have to return to our body to rejuvinate before long, for now let’s fly.’

Leaving his body behind, Daryl felt like he was wearing a jet engine on his back. They flew into town and towards the suburbs in almost an instant, whizzing and zipping by the tall buildings below. Nobody noticed, even on a night like that, everyone looking in the sky for the mothman, nobody could see the flying shadow sailing over the town. It was invigorating; he felt invincible in this form–free–able to do what he wanted… and even…

In what felt like a heartbeat, Daryl found himself standing before Kevin’s house. He looked up to the second floor to see a light; someone was home, away from the festivities that beckoned from the city’s lights. Daryl rose to the height of the window and moved forward toward it, peeking in to see who was inside.

It was Kevin, sitting in what looked like a normal teenage room. Posters of comic book characters and rock bands wallpapered the walls, and a desktop computer sat at the opposite wall of the room, and just underneath the window was Kevin, lying on his bed with headphones on, reading a magazine.

Daryl smirked at his inane assailant, unaware of the dark shadow shifting through his wall and climbing onto his ceiling. He was about to feel the cold hands of death rapping at his heart, stritch scratch scratching on his feeble back, bleeding, pulsing ferociously, just the way he, Daryl, had felt time and time before. Kevin would soon know the fear and the pain that piled up over the years. And that nobody did anything to stop him?

His father kept him out of trouble; he got away with so much. Should not he share in this punishment? And what about the police, the teachers, who only gave him  scolding or a slap on the wrist? Should they not feel his wrath of equal measure?

He pondered these things for a while, all from atop Kevin’s ceiling. He had never thought of the large scale, the people behind the scenes, who remained unseen, like an audience ever watching and not participating in the torture… yet by not participating, they had let it happen. Why should he punish Kevin only? All should suffer for these affronts.

Daryl slithered his arm across the ceiling and towards the room’s door. His fingers grew long and sharp, producing an audible scratch on the door before slamming it shut.

Kevin looked up from his magazine, a bit startled, to see a shadowy hand reach for the light switch next to the wooded frame and flip it off.

He looked at his watch. It was getting late; he must have imagined the hand. He rose from his bed and walked towards the door. He felt the hairs on his skin rise and his neck felt what seemed like the breath of the dead on it. He shook these thoughts from his mind as he flipped the switch back on but as quickly they left, they immediately returned as he saw the deep grooves set into his door.

Adrenaline pumping, Kevin heard what sounded like breathing behind him. He turned around to see a black, shadowy person, with big white eyes and a wide, toothy smile standing behind him.

The Mothman Reborn Part 2

6 Apr

The Mothman Reborn Part 3

Daryl huffed as he ran as fast as he could towards home, but he couldn’t help but be a little distracted by the buildings as he passed by. Point Pleasant, West Virginia, home of the Mothman and his… prophecies… and also the home of the annual Mothman Festival. Shop owners were busy hanging mothman streamers and flags. One owner had brought out a mothman statue made out of toothpicks.

‘Focus,’ thought Daryl, ‘Must get home before Kevin finds me.’

Daryl ran; he ran until his muscles felt like jelly, ready to fall off his aching bones. He was getting close. He was just outside of town, close to the abandoned power plant where the mothman was supposed to reside. Daryl stopped, looking left and right, he didn’t see any sign of Kevin. His head turned toward the power plant, its red brick, smoky from the years of disuse, windows broken and angry-looking with crooked teeth of glass and metal, boarded up doors, and lot of discarded materials littering the overgrown grass.

It looked so desolate and lonely…

‘Kapow!’

Daryl’s glasses fell off and his teeth rattled as he felt a fist connect to back of his head. Tumbling forward, Daryl caught himself before falling to the ground face first, but not before stepping on his fallen lenses.

Kevin laughed. “Oops! That’s too bad; I bet a nigger like you can’t afford a new pair of glasses, huh?”

Daryl turned around, eyes watering, all of his strength forced upon them to keep from crying.

“Awe, you going to cry?” said Kevin, “Let me help you!”

He punched Daryl again in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. As Daryl leaned forward, Kevin kicked him in the face. Blood, Daryl tasted blood as he fell to the ground, and felt little bursts of air escape his mouth as Kevin kicked him repeatedly in the stomach.

Daryl tried to cover his head and chest, but he felt his fingers and wrist crack under the relentless assault, eventually he stopped trying and passed out…

Mothman Reborn Part 1

6 Apr

I want to first preface this (because I understand there were a few people interested in reading this) that I am pushing real hard to finish it up tonight. There should hopefully be a part 3 (final part) tonight, but we’ll see. Until then, please enjoy the first two parts:

 

The Mothman Reborn: Part 1

The clock’s hands moved slowly. Daryl Kern’s dark eyes leapt from the pages of his notebook to the white face of the clock in the front of the classroom every few seconds, hoping that by some feet of magical time travel, he would find the day to be over. But instead it seemed the more often he jerked his head towards the upper wall’s center, the slower the tiny black hands circled the face.

He scratched his head, his fingertips meeting the long curls of his budding afro. He didn’t particularly like his hair and was hoping he would get the time to cut it the following weekend. Of course, he was going to have to wash it first, as he inevitably understood that it would be matted with blood by the time the day was done.

Thinking about it made him shake in his seat a little, he cupped his face in his hands, trying to keep anyone from seeing his eyes welling up. Daryl had a problem. His name was Kevin Holler.

Kevin had bullied Daryl since they were 11. They had a lot of classes together, and if Kevin wasn’t threatening him or shoving him in the hallways, he was throwing spit wads at him in class. They were almost unnoticeable, the spit wads, until Daryl would rake his head with his fingers only to be greeted by the gooey feeling of wet, saliva filled pulp.

Gross to say the least, but far worse were the instances outside of school that made Daryl shudder. Kevin would go out of his way to stalk Daryl and beat the skin off of him.

Daryl didn’t understand why Kevin hated him so much, though he had many a conjecture:

  • Daryl was smart; he was in the top 15% of their class.
  • Daryl wasn’t athletic; he was small, with skinny arms and skinny legs and the coordination of an eggplant, Daryl was often teased in gym class by his classmates.
  • Daryl was black; Kevin used many racial slurs when he assaulted Daryl.

Growing up in the south wasn’t a big help on that matter, but Daryl knew not everyone was racist. Most of his classmates treated him like everyone else and he had several white friends, but for whatever reason Kevin Holler hated his guts and made sure that he knew it at least once a week.

Once a week, usually on a Friday (like this one), Daryl would spend his weekend black and blue and trying to mend his glasses for the umpteenth time. It was getting to the point that glue and tape just wouldn’t stick…

Daryl’s body suddenly became calm. He was done. He was going to run home and enjoy his weekend. Enough of this crap! He was going to get home unscathed and read his new comic book.

He just got it two days ago, the newest Batman comic; he’d saved it to kick off his weekend and he was going to enjoy the whole weekend, damn it! He was going to get over his fears and defeat Kevin once and for all… but probably not in hand to hand combat… running was his best option.

Bring!

The bell rang and a clamor of scraping chair legs, books thumping closed, and students muttering, chiming, and bellowing announced the start of the weekend.

Kevin Holler who had been asleep at his desk for the past 20 minutes, awoke to see his target zip out the door and out of sight.

His mouth curled into a smirk as he slowly stood up and picked up his books. ‘No need to run, nigger,’ he thought, ‘I’ll catch up.’

The Psychic Society: Chapter 4

29 Mar

Mathew Easton: The Phantom

Detective Mathew Easton, a man in league with the enemy, stood in room 1013 24 hours after Burr and the two senators were found dead. Mathew was born with a strange knack of figuring things out. He detected, what most would say, the undetectable. Top of his class of those destined for the title Detective, Easton had solved over 100 cases before the enemy acquired him. It was this uncanny ability that also attracted my late master.

The time was 20:00, and Detective Easton stood at the now open window of that 10th floor room, contemplating the photos taken by his people. He turned from the photos to the window glass. The holes from the rounds, spidering cracks, led him to believe that someone must have been perched somewhere with a high velocity rifle, but that was impossible, unless the man were superman.

His eyes wandered back to the pictures. The window was originally closed, blinds down, and a sheet draped over it, meaning zero visibility for anyone shooting a rifle… unless they were superman.

No casings were retrieved. Video footage was no help. The maid, they had questioned, saw Edward Burr walk out of the room at 13:40, but all the cameras captured was static at that time. Curious, however, that it was only when whoever it was passed by that the cameras went nuts. They were all working perfectly afterwards.

And though she had seen Burr walk out, it could not have been him, because forensics put him to be dead about that time, in the room, with that dreadful mark on his face…

This case was certainly the most perplexing case he had ever had, and not one bit of it made any sense. The assailant would have to be flying… or some sort of crane? helicopter?  Something had to hold him or her in place while he or she made those killing shots. At some point there was an entry, which led to Burr’s death, that was certain, but once again, the assailant had to be flying… or something…

And nobody saw anything?

Detective Easton’s mind tinkered and spun as it tried to conceive what had happened, but nothing meshed together. Discouraged, he looked to the bottom of that 10th story view and thought of what his bosses would say if he couldn’t solve this case.

“Hello, Detective,” came a voice from the front door, “How goes the investigation?”

speak of the devil…

“Not too good, Mr. Crouse,” said Easton, turning around. Mr. Crouse was an elderly gentleman, no more than 65, white beard and short hair and dressed like he had some fancy place to be.

“I hope you’re not so troubled by these events to check up on me while you are engaged in something else?” said Easton.

“Oh,” said Mr Crouse, shaking his head, “It’s no where that I’ll be missed, but I am very concerned about this investigation. Our superiors are very concerned about finding whoever is responsible, considering the election is a couple of months away, now to be postponed.”

“Well, as it stands, sir,” said Easton, “None of it adds up. I don’t suppose you have a list of people who would be interested in killing Mr. Burr?”

“You’re the detective, are you not?”

Detective Easton smiled. “Yeah, I suppose I am. Any super-human individuals that might want to kill Mr. Burr?”

“Super-human?”

“Yes. The initial shots were fired from outside this 10th floor window, from approximately 100 or 150 yards, meaning the killer was suspended in air, somehow. Two shots, sir, passing through blinds and a sheet to meet the two senators in the head, so not only can our assailant fly, he has x-ray vision.”

“At some point he broke through the window and entered the room to kill off Mr. Burr and retrieved his casings, including the ones outside, or rather we still haven’t found them.”

Mr. Crouse looked uncomfortable, as if he were hiding something.

“And if you know anything or anyone capable of this, I would love to know, because, though I am the best in my field, this answer I’ve come up with, though utterly preposterous, is the only one that makes sense to me right now.”

“I… may have to get back with you on that,” said Mr. Crouse.

“Mr. Crouse,” said Detective Easton, “By all means, get back to me. But if there is a shred of truth in my synopsis, if you can confirm any of it, there’s a lot more that you and your employers are going to have to tell me when this whole case is solved.”

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