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Horror World :: View topic - First Dates From Hell
Horror World

First Dates From Hell
Page 1 of 4

Author:  Nanci [ Wed Dec 16, 2009 9:35 pm ]
Post subject:  First Dates From Hell


Angela ran her hands through her dark brown hair, hoping to tease it into some kind of shape other than flat and limp. Today she was meeting “the one”, or at least she hoped so. It was their first date and she was nervous but scared, it seemed lately that ALL her dates were “firsts”. She couldn’t remember the last time she had gone out with someone more than once, why was that? She wondered. It seemed after one date they just seemed to disappear. Maybe it was her, or maybe she just picked the wrong guys. Oh well, this time would be different, right?

As Angela is checking her makeup in the mirror to makes sure it looks just right, the doorbell rings. “Here goes nothing” Angela sighs as she slowly opens the door. “Hello Angela” says the handsome man on the other side of door. Tanner Wilkes is more than handsome though; he’s gorgeous, with his slightly curly, dark brown hair and dazzling green eyes. Angela still can’t believe he asked her out, she’s not exactly in his league looks wise. Although Angela is not ugly by any stretch of the word, neither is she a great beauty, with her limp brown hair and dull brown eyes she feels rather plain. When Tanner asked her out yesterday, while they were both waiting for the copy machine at work, Angela thought he was joking. Her mind plays back yesterday afternoon as if it was a movie in her mind.

“Pardon me?” Angela asks with her mouth gaping open.

“I said would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night” Tanner repeats with a smile

“Uh, sure I guess...I mean YES! I would, that would be nice” Angela stammered.

“I’ll pick you up at 7pm tomorrow night then” Tanner reaches down, kisses her hand and walks off.

“I can’t believe that just happened” whispers a voice from behind her. Angela whirls around and spies Mona, the secretary from down the hall, staring at her with wide eyes. “Every woman in this office has been after Tanner since he started here last year and he’s turned every one of them down flat, to be honest we started thinking he might be gay, but now he’s picked YOU?” Mona says, with a dumbfounded look. “What’s wrong with me?” asks Angela angrily. “Oh nothing at all, you’re just not, well you know…” Mona says, her voice trailing off, obviously embarrassed now. She turned quickly and strode out of the copy room without finishing her sentence. Angela of course didn’t need her to finish, she knew exactly what Mona was thinking because she was thinking it herself. “What would a great looking guy like Tanner Wilkes want with a plain boring girl like me?”

And now here he was at her door, talking to her, looking so handsome. “You really look beautiful tonight. That dress is stunning, I’ve never seen you wear red before, it really suits you” Tanner said admiringly. Angela looked down at the long dark red dress she had on and said with a smile “Yes, I do love red but I only wear it for special occasions”

Tanner grabbed her hand and whisked her to the car “This will be a memorable first date” Tanner declared with a smile. Angela grinned back and agreed “Yes I’m positive it will be”

All through dinner Tanner and Angela talked about everything. They were getting along so well and seemed to have so many things in common; maybe she would finally get to have that second date. As they finished dinner Angela kept hoping the night wouldn’t end, Tanner obviously didn’t want it to end either because he invited her back to his house for drinks.

As tanner pulled up to his house, Angela sat staring at the house on the hill. There were no neighboring houses in sight. “You sure like your privacy don’t you?” Angela asked. “Yes privacy is something I’ve always cherished” he murmured quietly. They walked into the house and Tanner asked Angela if she would like something to drink. “Yes, whatever you have is fine with me” Angela said dreamily.

As they were drinking their first glass of wine Tanner brought up the subject of work. “Don’t you work for Mr. Allen, the President of the company?” Tanner asked.

“Yes I do, I’ve been his secretary for 2 years now, he’s a very sweet man” Angela replied. When Tanner kept questioning her about work, Angela tried to change the subject back to the two of them but Tanner seemed to only have one thing on his mind now. He was getting insistent and almost angry with his questioning of her about her boss, she couldn’t understand this change in mood at all. Angela, upset at the strange turn of events, excused herself to go to the bathroom. While on her way there she passed his open office door and looked in, there she saw a bulletin board on the wall with a familiar picture pinned to it. She walked closer and looked; it was her picture, with the words “president’s secretary” written underneath. A realization dawned on her then, the realization that she was being used. He only wanted to use her to get close to her boss. A strange look came over her face as she whispered “I guess we won’t be having a second date either”.

Tanner called to her and asked if she was ok. “Yes” she replied “I’m just fine” She walked out of the office and headed toward the living room. She picked up her purse on the way and slid something out of it. As Tanner turned toward her she lunged forward and brought the blade of her kitchen cleaver neatly across his throat. Again and again she sliced at him until her fury was spent. She looked down at the bloodied body on the floor and said with a giggle“You see, the red dress hides the bloodstains so well”

Author:  Nanci [ Wed Dec 16, 2009 9:38 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

My Father

I closed my eyes and tried to remember what I looked like. I have a painting of myself hanging in my office but my friends say it doesn’t look like me.

I think I’m pretty. At least that’s what my father used to tell me.

There was a knock on the door. I ran my fingers through my hair and took a deep breath to calm my stomach. A habit from a past life; faded but still there like an old fingerprint.

I opened the door and, once again, was reminded of my father.

didn’t every man remind me of my father in some small way?

Not so much how he looked but in the tightness of his face. The seriousness.

My father changed after my mother was killed. He never cried. He never showed emotion. But something inside of him had died. He never laughed again. If he had so much as smiled I had never seen it.

This man standing in front of me had that same look my father had. Would the past always be draped over my coffin like a grieving relative?

I searched his face for a reaction. I am self-conscious about how young I must appear. Did he think I looked too young? I am perpetually 16 years old. Some men like that; others not so much.

Another look crept over his face. It was confidence. I suddenly realized why he had looked so serious. He had been sizing me up. I tried to keep an open mind and not dislike him immediately.

I forced a smile and said, “Hello Jason, so nice to meet you.”

He smiled back and extended his hand. I was taken aback by its warmth.

Taking my arm he responded in kind. We walked down the street together. It was a beautiful night. There was a restaurant down the street that I had suggested. As we walked we made small talk. How much we disliked our jobs, movies watched (re-watched really), and books read.

The rest of the evening, was unremarkable. Jason told me that I was beautiful. His confidence was without reason. I was bored and wanted to go home. Perhaps he noticed my detachment because he leaned forward and asked me to come to his house. I almost laughed but something caught my eye. His eyes. They were gleaming; predatory. I admit, for the first time that night I was intrigued.

His house was beautiful. Old but restored.

He led me to a part of the house that hadn’t been restored: the basement. As I walked down the stairs I knew why. My senses awoke; sharp and alive for the first time in years. I could smell her. She was young. Very young. Her sweat, rancid and bitter, smelled glorious to me. If I was still human my heart would have been racing

Jason stopped in front of a metal door. The stainless steel door contrasted sharply with the dank, wet basement like a knife cutting through raw steak. The door was somehow obscene. A blasphemy against a God who had abandoned us all.

Jason turned to look at me like a game show host revealing a prize. His smile was feral and yet beautiful in its naked hunger. For me and for what waited behind the door.

“I have a connection,” he said. “She arrived yesterday.”

He pulled out a key and unlocked the door. The room was dark but there was a single light shining from a hanging bulb. The wind created by opening the door swung the bulb back and forth slowly like some terrible pendulum. She was sitting in the corner. Small, scratched up knees drawn up protectively to her face. I thought of my father gently placing a band-aid on my knee.

She looked up as we entered. Tears divided her face like claws marks. A brief glimmer of hope crossed her features but was gone in an instant like a footprint on the shore of a desolate beach. In my former life it would have been heartbreaking. Not any more.

If I listened closely perhaps I would hear my father mourning. Feel his tears like warm raindrops on my face


A small piece of my humanity had survived my first kill; given to me moments after the change. It would not survive the second. Live humans were a rarity these days. Only the rich, or the cunning, could procure them.

“They arrive weekly” he said. “Sometimes twice.”

I looked at this man, this thing, and I knew at this moment he owned my soul.

did I even have a soul?

More than my soul, he owned my history. My future.

A brief flicker of shame touched my mind like a wayward child touching the leg of a lost parent. But it was very brief and then there was only the thought of us. Myself and him. Feeding on this wayward child. Entangled like a sculpture from the lowest parts of Hell.

And the next one. Would it be another child? A boy perhaps? They arrived weekly he had said. Sometimes twice.

I haven’t seen my reflection in years. The only time we do get to see our reflection is in the eyes of our victims before the kill. We see a piece of our past as we embrace our future. We see our reflections in eyes bright and fluttering with terror.

I wonder what I look like.

My friends say the painting in my office doesn’t do me justice.

My father used to say that I was pretty.

Author:  Nanci [ Wed Dec 16, 2009 9:44 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell


When the hammer missed its intended target and landed rather forcefully on his thumb, Steve Vernon blasphemed. And though it hurt like hell, he somehow managed not to drop the sign he was attempting to nail to the door. Instead, he quickly shifted his weight, balanced the sign on his right knee, and then shook out the pain in the offending hand. Once the throbbing subsided enough for him to try again, he lifted the sign off his knee, swung the hammer once more, and thanks be to God, he didn’t miss this time.

After several more blows, the sign, now securely fastened, proclaimed in a hand written scrawl that the restaurant now possessed a new name, “Left Over’s”. Unfortunately, Steve had miscalculated the dimensions of his sign and the first and last letters of the old name were still visible:


Before today, (Steve had thought of today as being the first date of the Holy Days), COTTON was one of the most popular restaurants in Nova Scotia. Steve had no doubt that “Left Over’s” would surpass COTTON in popularity. After all, there would be a lot of hungry people in these new times, and it was his self appointed job as head chef, bottle washer, and food procurer, to try and fill their stomachs.

Satisfied with his carpentry work and hoping that his efforts were noticed (but not
heard, the loud blaspheming really bothered him), Steve turned around and glanced toward the parking lot, all the while imagining an appreciative audience clapping their hands in his praise.

However, Steve’s gazing was abruptly halted and his anticipative smile thawed as he caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. There, in the parking lot, bending over a rather large hole was a girl, a young teenager he guessed, looking for all the world like she was about to lose her balance and tumble forward into a dark void. Steve had to act, and to do it quickly. “Hey there…Miss!” he called out while waving his hands to catch her attention.

It worked! The girl turned her head to face him, though she continued to lean over the hole.

Lowering his gaze to concentrate on his footing (he had to avoid the many holes between them), Steve cautiously made his way toward the girl and spoke to her in soothing tones. “You see something interesting in that hole Miss? I’ve looked into it myself a few times, but all I see is the same thing darn nothing. I sure as heck would be interested to know if you’re seeing something in there that I can’t!”

If the girl had any apprehension from Steve’s approach, she didn’t show it, in fact,
her reaction to him seemed quite calm. She merely straightened herself up and then she
slowly turned the rest of her body to face him. When she spoke, Steve heard a voice
burdened with a weight of uncertainty.

“No, sir, I’m not.”

“Then what-cha doing staring down into that hole for?”

“Sir, I’m looking for my parents.”

Steve’s eyes slammed shut and he raised his head toward the heavens. Fists formed at the end of his wrists and he struggled to keep them locked to his sides. Why, he silently raged, why have you left this one? Surely, she was worthy! After a moment, Steve managed to push away the anger and doubt and returned his attention to the girl. He saddled up closer to her and put a hand on her slender shoulder, “I don’t think they’re down there Miss.”

Steve gave her a warm smile and said softly, “Come with me, let’s get you inside and give you something to eat.” Tears suddenly formed in the girls eyes and she asked him, “Why did this happen?”

Steve sighed. “No one is sure why”, he tried to explain, “All we know is that something happened very early this morning. All those holes you see outside on the ground, well, they suddenly appeared all over the world. Some were big, like the one you were looking into, and some were very small. And then, well, people just disappeared. Nobody’s sure if it had anything to do with the holes or not. All we know, is that any people who have gone down into the holes, even those who had ropes tied to them, never came back up, so it’s best we stay away from them.”

“What do you think happened?”

Steve looked straight into the girl’s eyes and continued, “Well, I think God has called all the good people home to him. There is something in the Bible called The Rapture where it says that one day all those who believe in Him will be welcomed home, and child, I think God has called your parents home. And those who do not believe, or are left behind for other reasons, will remain here to confront evil, and be given a chance to work toward redemption. Then, they too can go home.”

“Can you help me work toward redemption? So I can be with my family again?”

With a grin Steve held out a hand then answered, “My name is Pastor Vernon, but you can call me Steve. What’s your name?”

The girl took Steve’s hand and shook it. “My name is Mary.”

“Well Mary,” Steve replied, “I think I can help you.” As the girl turned to walk towards Left Over’s, Steve raised his other hand, which still gripped the hammer, and drove it deeply into her skull. Her eyes rolled up into her head, her legs folded, and she crumpled toward the ground. Steve then placed a foot on the girls face to hold her down so he could pull the hammer out. It caught once, but he turned it a little and it gave.

After wiping the hammer off on the girl’s clothes, he used his feet to nudge her into the hole where she disappeared into the blackness.

“Glad I could help”, Steve muttered as he made his way back to Left Over’s.

Author:  Nanci [ Wed Dec 16, 2009 9:46 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

Forbidden Love

England (just south of London), August 15th, 1676, 11:18 p.m.

Benjamin Barclay was in love. Hands running through the silky blonde hair below him, he wanted nothing more than for this night to last forever. His lips parted as Joanna’s mouth found his, her hands roaming the contours of his shoulders, his chest. He’d waited three years for this moment, and he desired, no, needed it to be more than a passing flame.

For nearly two years, Benjamin’s longing for the Duke’s daughter was simply fancy. She held feelings for him as well, but was to be married in just three weeks to Sir Andrew Wiley, an Arch Bishop in waiting. Benjamin knew if he and Joanna were caught in any form of relationship, the Duke would not accept that sort of embarrassment. He would order Ben’s execution, and it would undoubtedly be fulfilled. His mind told him it was lust, nothing more, but he couldn’t accept that. It was love. His love. A forbidden love.

When she walked into the blacksmith’s shop just a week prior, Ben was busy keeping the fire going. His father was out speaking to a customer whose horse had a cracked hoof. She spoke softly to him, told him the royal life wasn’t for her. She desired a common man, a man of her own choosing, not one already chosen for her. She wished to see him again, alone this time, and Benjamin was only too eager to accept the offer, consequences be damned. But it was to be a secret relationship. If the Duke found out, he would have no qualms sending Ben to the gallows.

Now, a week later, they were lying on the seat of the coach he’d spent his entire savings on to rent for the evening. He picked Joanna up in an alley not far from her home, after scanning the street for folks passing by. They traveled south out of the inner city, into the Lonbough Woods, where they dined on a freshly baked loaf of bread and wine Joanna had brought. Their first time alone together.

Whether it was the wine, their profound fondness for each other, or a bit of both that led them to this moment, Benjamin could not be sure. And he didn’t care. He was in love.

He grazed his hand along her dress, slipping the fabric off her shoulder, never taking his eyes away from hers. The only noise was their breathless panting.

Then Joanna screamed, except that wasn’t quite right, Ben thought, because her mouth wasn’t moving. Her head jerked up and to the side, toward the noise, and as she turned he was flipped onto the floor of the coach. He grimaced at the noise, but a second scream covered any sound he might have made. A woman cried out a third time, this one a plea for salvation, then the night was silent once more. Ben reached for the drapes, wanting to peek outside, but Joanna slapped his hand away.

"Are you mad?" she whispered. "We cannot be seen out here!"

"But someone’s hurt. What if their attacker is still out there?" he asked. He slowly pulled the drape back and peered into the foggy night. He saw nothing for perhaps fifteen seconds, then thought he may have seen a human outline running through the trees. It vanished an instant later, if it had even been there to begin with. Benjamin opened the coach door, and stepped into the warm night air. Joanna hissed for him to come back, to come and lay down with her, which sounded beautiful to his ears, but Ben could again hear the pained woman. He hushed Joanna and crept in the direction of the woman’s voice. A moment later, he felt Joanna’s hand slide into his own.

Five minutes later, they found her. She was a bloody mess, her arms the shade of a butcher after a long day slaughtering pigs. In her right hand she held a gleaming straight razor. Her face was as pale as the moonlight reflected in her dying eyes. While they gazed, her breathing slowed, until it soon stopped altogether. Benjamin said nothing. He could hear Joanna silently weeping behind him, and he led her away, back to the coach.

"We can never speak of this," she said when they were almost back. "Never."

He stared at her. Opened his mouth to speak, but could find no words.

"If either of us speaks of this, they will question our reasons for being out here," she continued. "If it is ever found out we were together, my father will have you executed."

She was right. His soul be damned, she was right. He could not, would not, risk his life, risk losing her, for a woman already dead. They would be forced to withhold more secrets. They climbed into the coach, and returned to the city.

London, August 18th, 1676, 8:12 a.m.

Benjamin picked up his father’s newspaper on his way out the door, glancing at the front page on his way to the blacksmith’s shop. In the bottom right corner, a headline read WOMAN FOUND DEAD. The story indicated a woman had been found dead the night before in Lonbough Woods, in what was deemed a suicide. The body had been deceased anywhere from a couple days to perhaps a week. She had sliced her wrists with a barber’s straight razor. The severity of the situation hit him like a heavy fog rolling in off the sea. Benjamin felt dizzy. This was all wrong. This story was not the truth. It was an injustice to the woman and her family, if she indeed had a family. But he would have to live with that lie, for the truth would be his death.

Live with the knowledge of ignoring the pleas of a murdered woman. Live with the knowledge of a killer still roaming the streets of London. He was damned.

But his forbidden love was still safe.

Author:  Nanci [ Wed Dec 16, 2009 9:47 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell


Tom Monahan was turning ninety years old today, and he had not gotten laid in just about twenty years. In fact, the absence of sex was something that had not really crossed his mind until today. Sure, he would look at some of the nurse bimbos that came and went throughout the years in this prison for the elderly that they called Brucefield Manor Retirement Home. He was old but still a man after all.

What he admired was the soft and tight flesh and the contour of hips shape and wiggles. To be able to move your body like that without something hurting was what he wanted, to look young, to get out of this place, get on his motorcycle from his younger days and tear the road.

This was no way to live. No fucking way to live at all.

He looked at the clock at the table bedside and snorted mucus build-up from his nose into his throat, followed by a hard swallow. Vibrant red numbers shone back. It was just about 2:30 in the morning and the bastard had risen from the dead.

Tommy shook his head in disgust as he said, “Absent for twenty years, and now you come knocking. What should I say? Who’s there?” He threw the covers aside and got out of bed. He put on a robe that was lying on the floor, hoping to cover any embarrassment when he went to the shared bathroom. Another thing he hated from this place, no privacy to take a shit in peace, ever.

He carefully opened the door to a dark hallway, making a quick left toward the bathroom located at the end of the hall. He fast walked, hands in his robe pockets for quick concealment. He kept his head down, looking at the protruding bump hoping that no one would cross his path.

Nearing the door, his heart faltered when he noticed a light shining from the opening at the bottom of the door.

Someone was in there.

Seconds passes, as he stared at the door like a deer caught by the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. As the shock subsided, his only option was to turn back. As he was putting his thought into action, the door opened wide. A quick yelp echoed across the hall, a hand covering a mouth too late.

It was Belinda, young by Tom’s standards at the age of sixty-six. There was no mistaking that guys would fall at her feet in her younger days. Although that beauty had deteriorated with time, it was still very much noticeable. Blue eyes shined in the glint of the bathroom light. Her eyes widened as Tom’s face registered, her eyes slowly moved downward, and became even wider.

She backed away, reaching for the door with the intention of slamming it shut but Tom stepped through with lightning speed, considering his age. He put his hand against her mouth to stop her from screaming. Whispering with indignation, “What the hell is the matter with you? Calm down before you wake up the whole damn place.”

He shook her hard to ensure that the words were filtering through. Belinda’s breath came fast, passing audibly through her nose. Eyes still terrified and wide, brows furrowed giving her a worried look.

“I am going to take my hand away but just take it easy. I need to use the facilities as you can see; I am having a slight problem.” He removed his hand from her mouth saying, “You wouldn’t happen to want to go on a first date with me, would you? I can treat you to dinner. I still have some chocolates hidden away in my room, and you know how tight-assed they are here with our diet. I help you, you help me with my problem”, he went to caress her face, but Belinda slapped it away with all her might.

“You stay the hell away from me, you hear?”

“Come on, Angel, help a guy out here. I have been celibate for twenty years. We could both have some fun. I am so hard, it is about to fall off“

“You dirty bastard, I might be new here, but I have talked to the rest of the ladies here especially Margaret. You have raped them multiple times night after night and don’t remember shit because of your Alzheimer’s.” Belinda became braver, more postulate with her stance. She pointed her right index finger straight at his erection, “You are not touching me with that thing! I am not like the others and will report you. Want to spend the rest of you life behind bars, huh?”

Tom had no idea what she was talking about and really, he didn’t give two shits. The erection was getting painful. The yelling and struggle made the temptation unbearable.

He slapped Belinda as hard as he could with the back of his hand. Her head bounce of the tiled wall with a soft thump. She dropped like a house of bricks, her legs sprawled open. Tom was already dropping his robe to the floor, letting his underwear fall to his ankles. He knelt on the floor ready to tame this screaming animal, teach her a lesson on manners and if he got to satisfy his jollies in the process so be it. We all win, don’t we honey?

At that, he felt a hard hit in the back of his head. He heard his skull fracture. He tried to get up, but his legs gave out. Instead, he fell onto the floor and rolled facing the ceiling. The lights were bright, much too bright. He noticed multiple dark shapes looking down at him.

“Never again,” A woman’s voice said as a cane hit his face.

“Never again, “Another woman’s voice said with a hit to the groin.

The exchange of blows continued until the sun rose, but Tom only remembered it up until the fourth blow before the lights dimmed, dark.

Author:  Nanci [ Wed Dec 16, 2009 9:48 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

Filling The Abyss

The corpse was slumped over the steering wheel, bullet hole still smoking between his death eyes. He was a middle-aged family man named Harvey on his way home from a business trip. Thick clots of blood dripped from the raw hole in his head, splattering the tips of the new shoes his wife bought him for Christmas.

The woman walking through the dark woods where the man sat bleeding out his last drops, was Julianne. She carried a .22 sheathed inside her right boot, and wasn't one to mess with because of her gender.

Iced winds blew through the trees, chilling her to the bone. She looked down at the blood drying on her hands. She brought her right palm to her nose and sniffed the blood, the aroma sending a surge of sexual arousal through her body.

She licked the blood-crusted palm and continued on her way. Each twig that snapped under her feet brought back the urge to break the bones of more men who didn’t know how to treat a woman on a first date.
“I didn’t want to kill him,” she said to herself, walking faster now, more physically focused on getting to her car and back out on the road. “He should have taken our first date more seriously.”

She began to twirl a lock of her long red hair around her right index finger: a habit since she was a little girl that meant she was sad. She walked faster, bringing each foot down hard on the forest debris that littered the ground. The dark, killing anger that should have subsided by now, was back stabbing at her mind.

The blood burned her tongue like an hallucinogenic drug that would show her a trail of bloated corpses, all with bullet holes between the eyes-Her work, a testament to a world that never protected her.

Julianne made it out of the woods and back to her car. She’d parked on a deserted dirt road that looked like it led straight to hell. It was a few minutes to midnight, and the temperature felt like it dropped twenty degrees since she first pulled into the woods with the horny old man.

She started the car and let the engine run until some heat circulated through the freezing interior. While lukewarm heat wheezed through the plastic vents, Julianne looked in the rearview mirror: her eyes looked like they had bloodshot fault lines scratched all over their whites, and deep black trenches were dug in under sad eyes.

“I need sleep,” she mumbled. Her breath misted out inside the frigid car as she put it in drive, then headed down the lone dark road on this murder black midnight.

The road unraveled for what seemed like forever. Despair and the boredom of the road were mingling together to play with Julianne’s mind; she felt somewhat delirious, and kept thinking the ghost of her ex-husband was in the backseat, smacking his lips together, salivating, telling her he was going to give her a good beating after they role-played another first date.

The car kept hitting potholes, and she still felt her mind was being held captive under some dark delirium. Clouds of dust swirled in front of the bright headlights like beautiful tornados of golden dust.

A loud noise that sounded like a shotgun blast, rocked the car. One of the front tires blew, sending the car skidding into a muddy ditch.

Frozen sheets of rain began to fall like shimmering waterfalls. Inside the banged up old Buick, Julianne’s long red hair was draped over a large gash on her forehead that sent a perfect trickle of blood oozing out over the worn black leather that covered the steering wheel.

She moaned, and came back briefly before passing out cold as the rain beat an hypnotic rhythm of mourning down on the body of the wrecked car.

Julianne dreamed briefly: bodies of men with large bullet holes in their heads, a thick puss of yellow and red flowing out like the bullet had hit a cancerous cyst. All the corpses wore the face of her ex-husband, and just before she jumped awake, the last face spoke, telling her she would be unable to fill the abyss inside of her with only the souls of murdered men. No matter how many first dates she tried to recreate, she would still need to give something more.

She jumped up, almost hitting her head, and tried to focus through a haze of blurred vision coated with blood. “Where the hell am I … “ It was almost less than a whisper, but she said it with the voice of a lost, weepy child.

There was a hard knock on the driver’s side window, loud enough to scare the shit out of any unconscious human inside. Julianne panicked, and in exactly 3.5 seconds was able to get the .22 out of her boot and fire out the window in a blind rage.

The rain beat down harder and the winds thrashed the car making it shake.

She waited to hear a sound, any sound, but none came.

She got out of the car slow, like a slithering snake she then crept over to the body that was laying on the ground, bleeding from a bullet between the eyes.

Julianne walked over and knelt by the man’s side. This was the first one who didn’t have his face. He looked like an innocent passerby who’d stopped to see if anyone needed help.

She pressed the .22 hard against her right temple, and pulled the trigger while looking into the man’s lifeless stare.

There was a sharp click, but no discharge.

Julianne was out of bullets.

Author:  Nanci [ Wed Dec 16, 2009 9:49 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

If you're story isn't here, let me know but I think I've got them all...

Author:  Craig Cook [ Wed Dec 16, 2009 11:14 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

Wow, there are some MEAN women in these stories!!! :lol

Author:  Jazminsdaddy [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 12:21 am ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

I'm seeing some Laymon influence.

If the first story doesn't belong to Shari I'll be shocked.

Author:  ttzuma [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 9:30 am ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

Wow! After the first read though I'm impressed! I'll read them again, more slowly this time so I can enjoy them more, but I'm also thinking that I can quess who wrote what. Isn't that funny? Kinda cool too.


Author:  Jazminsdaddy [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 9:44 am ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

We should discuss each one. Everyone has something that I like. I would need to know who contributed to guess who wrote what.

Like I said I am pretty sure Sheri wrote the first one. Tony, if I had to guess I would say you wrote Forbidden Love.

Tony, what are your guesses for who wrote what?

Author:  ttzuma [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 9:57 am ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

Man! Bravo to EVERYONE who contributed! There is not a bad read in the bunch! I liked everyone of them! That was a cool exercise! I'll comment more on them later, but as I said, I think everyone did a great job! Even my opinion on my own story went up.


Author:  ttzuma [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 10:00 am ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

To me, Forbidden Love has the Thad man written all over it.

And First Date sure looks like a Horrordude production to me.


Author:  Jazminsdaddy [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 10:09 am ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

I like the twist at the end of Angela. I didn't clue in to the hints at the beginning so I was expecting the standard twist that the guy would be the killer so I was pleasantly surprised that Angela was the killer. And I loved the fact that she brought a kitchen cleaver in her purse. We can see why Angela never gets a second date and why all her first dates seem to disappear.

Author:  Jazminsdaddy [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 10:17 am ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

I'd guess Craig for First Date.

Author:  ttzuma [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 10:48 am ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

Angela is a great story. I thought the author did a very good job with the limited amount of words they had building some good characterization. The author had me rooting for Angela all the way through, even at the bloody end.


(edit: wrong title, sorry about that)

Author:  ShariTN [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 10:52 am ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

WOW! I liked them all! They were great. But I don't think I could even guess who wrote what LOL

Author:  ShariTN [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 11:20 am ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

Ok I read them again and I'm thinking Holes was a Tt story....and First Date might be by Craig? :?

It's been so long since I've seen anything you all have written It's hard to decide LOL

I'm not even sure who submitted stories anyway :/

Author:  ttzuma [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 11:34 am ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

I had Filling The Abyss as a Craig or an HHF story.


Author:  ShariTN [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 12:16 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

Oh wait! HHF sent a story? Hmmm well then
First Date I'm thinking is a HHF story...?
Holes Is a Tt story..?
And the rest I have no Idea LOL

Author:  Tom Piccirilli [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 12:20 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

Very nice job, folks. Each story features a real narrative confidence, which is very hard to do when you're a newbie or when you're doing flash fiction. Big-time kudos. My personal fave might be "My Father" for its poetic and almost surreal style, but everyone knows I have father issues. :hi

Author:  ShariTN [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 12:26 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

I'm actually glad i sent mine in now, Now that I've reread it it's not so bad LOL Thanks for the good words Mr. Pic ;) (And no, my story wasn't My Father LOL)

Did you send one in Jazminsdaddy ?

I was looking over on the other thread and it looked like 7 people were putting a story in but there are 6 stories..did someone not send one?

Author:  ttzuma [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 12:36 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

Yes, I received an e mail from a member saying that theirs is not posted. Hopefully it will be posted today. I cannot say whose it was.

Author:  ttzuma [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 12:37 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

Author:  Nanci [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 12:41 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

The Perfect Woman

I've been in the restaurant for ten minutes when she walks in and the effect is immediate. People stop talking and turn to look at her. She's beautiful. Long brown hair, a nice but unpretentious red dress, and the face of a goddess. I smile because I know she's there for me. I stand and wave. She sees me, smiles, and comes to the table.

"You must be Jake," she says, and her voice is melodic.

"I am. And you're Stephanie." I hold her chair as she sits and places her small handbag at her feet. I go back to my chair, straighten my sport coat and sit. "You're much prettier than Lisa said." Lisa is a co-worker of mine who helped set up the date with Stephanie, an old college friend of hers.

"And you're very chivalrous for a blind date. You don't change on subsequent dates, do you?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Course, I haven't gotten many second and third dates for a while."

"I find that hard to believe. You've chosen a lovely place for a first date."

She's right. The restaurant is a bit more than casual, but it's not dressy by any means. The atmosphere of the place struck me several months ago when I'd brought another date here, and I'd been looking for an excuse to come back.

The small talk continues. Stephanie asks about my job as an accountant, and I say that, despite the economy, folks must still pay taxes. It gets the desired laugh. She tells me about being in advertising, and mentions a campaign she did for the city's tourism board. I genuinely liked the campaign and tell her so. She blushes and smiles. Her smile sends warm shivers through me.

Neither one of us drinks alcohol, so we order dinner. She goes with a grilled chicken breast and vegetables. I go with a small steak and onion rings. The dinner continues along smoothly and the conversation doesn't lag in the least. I'm having a wonderful time and I sense that Stephanie is warming up to me and letting her guard down a little.

Our plates eventually empty and we sit back a bit, content. "Dessert?" I ask.

"I've heard their cheesecake is to die for. A slice with strawberries, please. Can you order while I powder my nose?"

"I think even I can handle that."

She laughs and gets up. I rise with her. She puts her hand on my upper arm in thanks and gives it a slight squeeze. She heads for the ladies room and I sit back down. I motion our waiter over and order cheesecake with strawberries, times two. He nods his head in agreement and goes off to do what he does. I sit back in my chair and begin to eavesdrop on the table next to me.

The two men at that table have been talking about the serial killer roaming the streets of our fair city. Early on, the killer had been active in a part of the city known as German Village. The press, in their infinite wisdom, had dubbed the killer Hansel because of the location. I bristle a bit at their conversation.

Stephanie and the cheesecake arrive at the same time. I rise again as she sits, then sit. The gentleman thing always works. We begin on the dessert.

"I heard some people at a table by the restrooms talking about Hansel," she says between bites. "What do you think about him?"

"I overheard the two guys next to us talking about the same thing. I really don't know much beyond what the press tells us, I guess."

"Well, I heard some things while I was working on the tourism board campaign. The police seem to think there's a second killer at work. Some of the scenes and m.o.'s aren't like the others."

"Really?" I ask. I try to keep my anger hidden. "Is it a copycat?"

"There's several thoughts. One is a copycat, another is a partner, a third is a competition. One person has even named him Gretel. Can you imagine?Personally, I think they've been watching too much Criminal Minds on tv." She laughs.

I laugh with her and that seems to end the conversation on Hansel. I can't help but stare at her as we finish dessert. I pay, cash only, and leave exactly a seventeen percent tip. We walk out. I offer to walk her to her car and she says she came by taxi. I then offer to drive her home. She agrees and more warm works its way through me.

We drive the fifteen minutes to her house. It's nice, with a nice front porch. I get out, walk around the car, and open Stephanie's door. She gets out and I escort her to her front door. She reaches into her purse for her keys. She turns her back to me slightly. I flick my wrist and an eight inch knife slides from its spot in my coat into my hand.

I smile. Hansel is about to claim another victim. I reach for her and she turns suddenly, her arm swinging out in a flat plane. I feel a sudden burn and burst of pain from my neck and blood splatters on Stephanie's face. She's grinning and I recognize that grin. It's the mirror image of mine.

"You've been wonderful, Jake. But Gretel needs to be sated."

She doesn't see the knife in my hand and I bring it up hard, burying it in her chest, feeling it jar a bit as it goes through bone. She gasps and falls back against the house. She looks at me with astonishment, then love.

"You're the...one..." she says, dying.

I look at Stephanie. I look at Gretel. I look at my perfect woman. And as my vision grows dark, I think one last thought.

Too bad there won't be a second date.

Author:  Laurel in Ely [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 1:36 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

They are all excellent with My Father being my favorite. I'm pretty sure I know which stories Thad, Tony and Craig wrote but I won't mention it here. I'll wait and see if the writers want to acknowledge their work. Fantastic work guys. :v

Author:  Nanci [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 1:42 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

I missed one so apologies to the author for not getting it up there with the rest of them.

Author:  ShariTN [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 1:52 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

I haven't read any stories or anything from anybody here except the little snippets from the story threads we had before, So it's hard to know who has what style of writing.

The Perfect Woman is good..I enjoyed the twist..I almost felt sorry that they killed each other just when they had found their soul mate :D

Author:  Jazminsdaddy [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 2:46 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

I will cop to writing My Father. Thanks for the kind words. It really means a lot.

Author:  Laurel in Ely [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 2:52 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: First Dates From Hell

Excellent work J.D. :v

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