| Horror World http://horrorworld.org/msgboards/ |
|
| Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! http://horrorworld.org/msgboards/viewtopic.php?f=58&t=7553 |
Page 1 of 2 |
| Author: | Laurel in Ely [ Mon Feb 01, 2010 12:45 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
The Porcupine Boy The Porcupine Boy was the featured attraction of Dr.Mystikal’s Travelling Freak Show. 423 nails were permanently embedded in his skin, covering the front of his body. It had taken him almost 5 years to complete this extension of his body (he considered the nails as much a part of him as his fingers or his eyelids) and the process had been honed to a fine art. He would insert the sterilized 3-inch nail about halfway through his skin and then spend the next few days cleaning and treating the wound. Eventually the nail would become solidly embedded in his skin and only a very hard yank would remove it. His childhood had been an unhappy, lonely one. He had no close friends and two parents who were more interested in beating him then paying him any real attention. When he was 13 years old he had stumbled upon a group of boys in the woods. They had captured a porcupine and to his horror they were torturing it by pulling its quills out with pliers and piercing its skin with sticks. He confronted the boys, pleading for mercy. They tied him to a tree and forced him to watch the entire horrific scene; the porcupine squealing in pain and terror, its body soon marred with patches like a lawn scorched by the sun. Long after the boys left he stayed with the animal, gently stroking its nose until it mercifully drew its last breath. He wasn’t able to express in words the feelings that churned inside of him but he wanted to scream, rage, cry and run away. He settled on burying the porcupine and honoring it by taking one of its quills. He became fascinated with the quill. He examined it under a microscope, he dipped it in ink to use as a pen, and he even used the hollow quill as a straw. One day he inserted it into the tip of his finger and was suddenly hit with an intense hallucination. He was the porcupine, but instead of being captured he outran the boys. One of the boys fell onto his body and screamed in pain as quills pierced both of his eyes and face. He awoke from the vision with his heart racing and his body shivering but also with a feeling of elation. He tried again to pierce his skin with the quill and was very disappointed when nothing happened. Desperate for anything to use in place of the porcupine quill he stole a set of his father’s tenpenny nails and began inserting them into his body. Intense visions again flooded his mind and body. He became a mother grieving over the death of a child, he became a man slapping his son across the face, and he became a woman in the throes of an intense orgasm. The visions became a way to relieve the tediousness of his life and he became even more withdrawn from the outside world. As he grew into a young man he mostly stayed in his room, impaling his body with nails, living his life through visions. His parents wanted even less to do with him (were even a little afraid of him) and one night, when he was 16 years old they saw him packing a bag. He left home that night and they didn’t try to stop him. He spent the next couple years travelling by foot and train, doing odd jobs, existing with the bare minimum food and social interaction required to live. He continued to insert nails into his body and he continued to experience the intense hallucinations. He found real life dull and routine compared to the visions he experienced. In Maine he stumbled upon a travelling freak show. He travelled with the show, being paid a pittance to cook food. The owner of the show, Dr.Mystikal, soon realized his potential as a money-maker. He began to call himself The Porcupine Boy and would impale himself to delightfully horrified audience members. He would lie on his stomach, the nails seeming to levitate him, as an audience member walked, and sometimes even jumped, on his back. For the first time in his life he developed real relationships. He befriended Corinne the bearded lady (who glued her beard on) and David/Tom the two headed man among others. His visions had provided him with some understanding of human experience but he had never really lived his own life. As his friends shared the details of their lives he realized that the visions had been a poor substitute for the breadth and beauty of human experience. He became very close to Corinne. She taught him how to carry a conversation; she taught him how to behave in “polite society” as she called it, and she taught him how to make love to a woman. He fell deeply in love with her and one night he opened his soul to her, his plans for their future. She was touched by his passion but gently explained to him that while she valued their friendship, she didn’t think of him as more than a close friend. He was profoundly devastated and he retreated to his trailer confused and alone. He thought about his old porcupine quill and tore his trailer apart looking for it, desperate to pierce his body, desperate to outrun the misery that followed him. Two days later he saw Corinne coming out of David/Tom’s trailer. Her arms crossed in front of a sheer nightgown on a cool September morning. He understood then that her heart, her body, belonged to another. He went to her and placed a trembling hand on her cheek. He kissed her, wanting to understand why she didn’t love him, why she had chosen another. She began to cry as she saw behind closed eyes the tragedy that was his life; and then she cried for herself. His body pressed hard against hers as the blood pooled at their feet. |
|
| Author: | Laurel in Ely [ Mon Feb 01, 2010 12:48 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
Was It Worth It? Sam sat on the floor of his garage feeling perturbed by the amount of pain he was in. Blood gushed from the opening that the Tenpenny nail had left in his left bicep but he continued to push it a bit deeper. Just below the skin. He reminded himself. He bit down on his lower lip and felt some warmth fill his loins. The rumour he’d heard was fairly accurate so far. He reached down into the glass jar and pulled out another nail. His hands started shaking and a sweat broke on his brow. The anticipation of the pain was almost more thrilling than the actual pain itself. He could feel a little flutter and more warmth but not quite what he wanted yet. The second nail was placed a quarter inch above his left nipple. He scrapped it back and forth for a minute, toying with the concept and then decided he could no longer wait. He picked up the ball peen hammer, held the nail in place and then drove it home as fast as he could. An eruption of pain and joy filled his brain at the exact same time. The pain was so much that he feared he was becoming a bit over stimulated. Again his loins warmed and his crotch tingled but still not the result he was looking for. A third nail was retrieved from the jar and placed above his right nipple. Even though the sexual sensations were amazing, it wasn’t what Sam was looking for and he was beginning to become impatient. Over the last several years, Sam had developed a bit of a problem when it came to sexual stimulation. He had no choice but to chop it up as, he was getting older now and things just were not going to work the same way again. This was very frustrating because his wife, Martha, had very much so wanted to be sexual with him but he was not able to properly “perform”. While at the factory last week, he’d over heard one of the guys going on about Tenpenny nails and how thrilling it was to have one pushed “just beneath the skin”. Sam wondered why a man or woman would do such a horrible thing to themselves but then he listened more and heard “It will get you as hard as a fucking rock man! I shit you not!” Despite Sam’s better sense, he took everything to heart that he’d heard. It’d been five long years and he’d not so much as had a semi hard on, much less had it as hard as a rock. Plus, even though he was an older man, he supposed with all the crazy sexual things going on in the word that this wasn’t that far fetched. Though, Sam was getting overly annoyed at the fact that he’d driven three nails into himself now and could only feel some tingling. Had he been putting them in the right places? Were they going deep enough? In his haste, Sam took a fourth and final nail and placed it on the inside of his right thigh slightly below his groin. Sam took a deep breath and on his exhalation sent the hammer downward toward the meat of his thigh. Immediately Sam’s penis became as hard as a rock but something was wrong. He looked down in a flurry of excitement and fear. The nail had been driven all of its three inches inside of his thigh and now he was bleeding not just a little but profusely. He quickly tried to push to his feet to retrieve a rag on top of his work station and was driven back down to the ground by a stabbing pain. “What the fuck is going on?” He heard himself yelling through a daze. Sam looked down at his thigh once again and saw massive amounts of blood pumping out of the area where he’d drove the nail in. “This doesn’t make sense! I was so careful to place it in meaty areas!” Sam spoke aloud again. He quickly became light headed. Sam had never like the sight of blood and in fact avoided it at all costs until today. This whole endeavour was so unlike Sam but he’d become desperate in his old age. He just wanted to feel alive again and was willing to try almost anything to feel that way. His vision started to blur and he felt his body start collapsing. That last thing Sam heard was the garage door open and his wife saying “Sam? Were you calling me?” followed by “What did you do Sam! Oh God what did you do?” And then he heard nothing else as his head collided with the cement floor. Martha sat in the hospital E.R. crying her eyes out. Wondering what in God’s name would have caused her husband to do such a terrible thing to himself. It looked as if he’d tried to inflict so much pain but it didn’t make sense to her. She’d never know Sam to be like this, to hurt anyone, especially himself. She sat there in the waiting room for what felt like hours until finally a doctor appeared. A look of distain and anxiety filled his eyes. “What’s going to happen to my husband?” Martha shrilled. “I’m sorry ma’am, he umm…well, he didn’t make it.” The doctor said looking at the floor. “NO! Oh God! Why the hell did my husband have to die? This doesn’t make sense! Please doctor! Tell me why!” “Well ma’am it appears as if the nail in your husband’s thigh severed his femoral artery. I’m not even sure if he’d made it here sooner we’d have been able to treat him, it’s a very massive artery and bleeds out very quickly. I’m very sorry for your loss.” With that said the doctor turned away as if to avoid anymore confrontation. Martha’s head collapsed into her lap and she cried and cried and cried. |
|
| Author: | Laurel in Ely [ Mon Feb 01, 2010 12:50 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
Grandpa Joe Freezing drizzle began to fall from a lacerated, gloomy sky. Adam stopped walking for a moment, held out his hand and wondered if another universe could be functioning inside the little frigid drop that melted the second it touched his skin. The wind picked up and he fastened the top buttons on his coat, silently cursing himself for not throwing on his winter jacket before heading out this morning. Almost home, Adam stopped and glanced down at the cracked sidewalk. It was there, on the corner of Leeds Road, that a venomous snake of the past rose to strike. It was a rusted tenpenny nail that looked like it may have been a hundred-years old. The way it was placed there-as if for Adam’s eyes only-sent a strange sensation whipping through his mind. He bent down and picked it up, examining it like it was a nugget of solid gold. “I’ll be damned,” he said. “Grandpa Joe … “ The whisper of that name was carried away on a gust of frosty wind. The nail brought Adam back to the autumn when he was nine-years old, helping his Grandpa Joe put tools away in the garage. Grandpa Joe was a quiet man who fought long and hard to get to this country. Married his grandmother when he was twenty-one, and never looked back. He built a stable family life, just like so many hard working immigrants of the time. That day was like any other autumn day in the Northeast section of the country: multi-colored leaves jiggled in the wind, creating chameleon rainbows right in front of your eyes. Grandpa Joe was puttering around in the garage stacking boxes of nails. He called to Adam, “Come help me in the garage. I’ll show you what a tenpenny nail is.” He was always educating Adam on things he didn’t know . “Stick with me, kid, and you’ll have the mind of an accomplished carpenter by the time you’re a teenager,” he’d always exclaim. Adam ran to the garage in seconds flat, all the while wondering what a tenpenny nail could be. His old sneakers made flopping sounds as he bounded in to the garage to find Grandpa Joe staring at him like he was a wild banshee. “Jeez, boy, we’re gonna have to get you some new shoes, before you bust an ankle.” He gave Adam a quick pat on the head, then went about explaining that a tenpenny nail was a three-inch long nail, and then named certain jobs they were good for. “Stack these here for me while I go around back and haul the trash out, before your Grandmother skins me alive,” he said with a chuckle. Adam loved helping the old man. He carefully stacked all the boxes of nails where Grandpa Joe had showed him, then went about exploring all the dark, oily corners of the garage to kill time until he got back. But Grandpa Joe never came back. Strange, there was no clock inside the garage, and Adam could tell it had been too long. The day was inching near late afternoon. Adam gulped, worried. It was a strange feeling: like he was the only little boy left in the entire world. It was so quiet; much more quiet than when Grandpa Joe was near. He called out,"Grandpa Joe ..." His shaky voice echoed through the lonely garage. Suddenly the faint smells of gasoline, oil, and paint were not warming reminders that he was somewhere he loved to be. Adam’s voice sounded not like a young boy full of wonder and play, but rather like a sick child, scared and alone. A thick Darkness crept into the garage, and Adam knew he should run inside and tell his Grandmother that something was wrong. He felt disconnected, like he was watching another little boy full of fear of the unknown. There was an inner curiosity that kept telling him to walk around back, behind the garage, to see where Grandpa Joe had gone. The scratching sound of a man raking leaves across the street slapped his mind awake, and he walked slowly out of the garage, heading around back. He came to the back corner and knew if he turned right he would see all the tall trash cans waiting to be taken out. He knew he would find Grandpa Joe, too. Each small step Adam took toward what lay beyond the trash felt like an eternity. The sweet stench of wet leaves and grass stung his nostrils, and he fought the urge to sneeze. One of Grandpa Joe’s brown shoes was resting just behind the last can of garbage. Adam thought he might have just fallen and ran to him, knelt down, then froze. A small crack opened in the shadowy sky, letting a few rays of sunshine spread down around Grandpa Joe’s body. They illuminated his wrinkled face, and at that moment, Adam thought it made his Grandfather look like a slumbering angel. It was a heart attack. “Seems so long ago,” Adam said now, still holding the rusted tenpenny nail in his right hand. Did he still love him all these years later after what was found out? In other people’s eyes his Grandfather would always be the man who led a double life in his younger years-a man the media referred to as The Gentleman Strangler. Adam clenched his hand tight around the old nail, fighting back visions of semi-nude women strangled in their homes by the same hands that showed him so much love. Did he still love him? Some days he did, and some he didn’t. Today he did, so he placed the rusted nail in his pocket, and walked on through the cold with the love of the Grandpa Joe he knew to warm him. |
|
| Author: | Laurel in Ely [ Mon Feb 01, 2010 12:54 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
Ten Penny Nails Look, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you guys think. What’s done is done. And don’t give me any of those fucking clichés about how you would have done the same thing in my shoes. I’m going to tell you everything that happened so you don’t need to use some of that psychological bullshit on me. So just let me talk, o.k..? You guys know my sister Carla. She’s been down here a few times, so you know she doesn’t have much. What she does have is Colletta, her kid. Oh yeah, and that piece of shit trailer her old man left her after he pushed that air bubble into his vein. It’s just the two of them in that shit box, but they call it home. They’re blood, so I did whatever I could to help them, especially little Collie. And I know Carla got lonely after her old man died, but fuck, some of the guys she went out with were scumbags, you know? She had a responsibility to Collie, and you never know what those assholes would do to a little kid. You know what I mean? Well, earlier tonight I decided to take the van and go to Moe’s after work, and what the fuck do I see? There’s Carla working the bar! I ask her what she’s doing on the night shift. She says they called her in. I ask her who’s looking after Collie, and she tells me it’s Mark, some guy she just hooked up with. This really pissed me off, leaving my ten year old niece with some fucking scumbag! I tell her what a dumb bitch she is and then I leave to go check on Collie. So when I get there, I pull my van into the parking spot next to her trailer, and in my headlights I see some guy carrying something big in his hands. He stops real fast when he sees me. I park the van leaving the lights on, and I walk up to him. I can’t believe what I’m seeing! He’s got something wrapped up in Collie’s favorite blanket, and it’s covered with some dark liquid, and it’s dripping like hell! I’m starting to get scared, so I ask him what’s in the fucking blanket. The guy’s crying like hell and he says to me, “I’m Sorry”. Then he says, “It was an accident!” I fucking lost it. I hit him as hard as I could, right in his fucking face. He dropped the bundle and started to bring his hands up, and that’s when I really laid into him. I punched him in the face over and over again, until he fell down, then I kicked the shit out of him. I wanted to break every fucking bone in his body. So he’s lying there, barely conscious, only now it’s me that’s blubbering like a baby. That fucker just killed my niece! I had to make that scumbag pay! So, I grab him by his shirt and I drag him over to a picnic table and I slam the prick down hard. Then I sucker punch him in the face to make sure he won’t move. The cock sucker was moaning, but there was no way he was getting up. So I left him there and went back to my van and got my tool box out. I grabbed a hammer, some ten penny nails, and a spike, and I brought them back with me to the picnic table. Fuck, I don’t know how I remember this, but I started with his left hand. I hammered one of the ten penny nails right into it, nailing that bastard’s palm to the table. Then I went around the table and did it to his other hand. When I got to his feet, I bent his knee’s up and put two more nails into him, right through his sneakers. There was no way this fucking kid killer was getting up off the table. Then, with the spike in my hand, I walked back toward his head. I opened the fucker’s mouth and pushed the spike down his throat. The guy was screaming like crazy, trying to talk, but he kept gagging on the spike. I think he was begging me to stop, which only pissed me off more. Did Collie beg him to stop? Did Collie scream for mercy too? I reach up with the hammer, and I’m just about to drive the spike through his pie hole when I hear the trailer door open. I turn to look, and fuck me, it’s Collie! “Stay there,” I tell her, “Don’t come over!” “Uncle John”, she says, crying, “Mom’s friend hit Spot with his car. He killed him!” What the fuck? I ask her, “Who the hell is Spot?” She tells me that her mom got her a dog today so she wouldn’t be so lonely when her mom was at work. But the dog was off its leash and it ran out in front of mom’s friend’s car when he came by to watch her. Then she said she gave the guy her blanket so he could bury Spot in it. I take my eyes off of Collie and I look down at the mook on the picnic table. He’s heard the whole thing, and now he’s looking at me like I’m some kind of sick fuck. What the hell I figured, in for a penny, in for a pound, so I raise the hammer again and bring it down on the spike. I kept hammering until I got it past his teeth and I couldn’t hammer no more. Well, that’s it. Someone musta called 911 because you guys got there only a few minutes later. And like I said, don’t tell me you woulda done the same thing, you don’t need to use no psychological bullshit on me. Fuck, why does Carla always pick the worst scumbags to go out with? |
|
| Author: | Laurel in Ely [ Mon Feb 01, 2010 12:57 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
TOGETHER (Author’s note: A “boot” is a device put on a vehicle’s front wheel and tire that prevents somone from driving away.) Uma Thurman was getting ready to perform her infamous Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique on that guy from the old Kung Fu show when Brianna burst through my bedroom door. “Ronnie,” she gasped. “I need your help, now.” I hopped off my couch and followed her into the hallway. Brianna was the girlfriend of one of my pledge brothers, Kyle, and since she belonged to the sorority across the street, she basically lived at our house. I didn’t see Kyle or his roommate, Alex, as we made our way down the stairs. “What’s the problem?” I asked Brianna as we reached the informal living room of the fraternity. “Where’s Kyle?” “He’s at work,” she said. “You were the first person I could find. Brian’s locking a boot on Chelsea’s car so she can’t leave.” “Why would he do that to his own girlfriend?” “Because it’s Brian. You know how he gets sometimes.” From what I’d heard, Brian and Chelsea had been high school sweethearts. When it came time to pick colleges, Chelsea wanted to go to a university out of state, but Brian insisted she go wherever he went. And she did. Time and time again, I’d heard them arguing in his room down the hall from mine, or I’d talk to her as she sat in the formal room fighting back tears. Why she stayed with him I had no idea, but this was weird, even for Brian. “C’mon,” Brianna said, “maybe you can talk him out of this.” We left through the side door and saw Brian in the parking area behind the house. He stood near Chelsea’s Explorer, blocking her from getting in. “Brian, what the hell are you doing?” I shouted, running up to the car. “Why would you put a boot on Chelsea’s car?” “Because she doesn’t live here, and therefore doesn’t have an assigned parking spot. As house treasurer, it is my responsibility to prevent her from leaving until she’s paid the $50 fine. Now go mind your own business.” “She parks here practically every day and you never boot her car! What’s the matter with you?” I tried maneuvering around him to get to the boot, but he shoved me back. “Don’t make me kick your ass, Ronnie. This doesn’t concern you.” “Fine,” I said. “Chelsea, I’ll give you a ride home.” “Like hell you will,” Brian snapped. “Geez, Brian, you think she has fifty bucks in her pocket just to get home?” Brianna asked. “Let Ronnie and I give her a lift, and you can sort your issues out tomorrow, okay?” Brian glanced at Chelsea, who was still crying, and muttered “whatever” as he walked around the side of the house. “Let’s get you home,” I said. Brianna drove us to the house Chelsea shared with two other girls. “You mind if I drop you off?” she asked. “I need to go pick up Kyle from work.” “Sure,” I said. “It’s nice out, and the walk back isn’t too bad.” As Brianna pulled away, I walked Chelsea around to the back door, which faced the driveway behind the house. All the lights were off. “Will you be okay?” I asked. “By yourself?” “Yeah, the girls should be home in an hour or so.” I could tell she was on the verge of tears again as she unlocked the door. “Why do you let him treat you like this? You deserve better.” “I don’t know,” she said, hugging me. “I....love him, you know? And I’m sc....scared.....of him, too. I can’t leave him. Who knows what he might do.” Holding her in the doorway, I never heard the car pull up in front of the house. Never heard the footsteps until they were right behind me. “Oh you son of a –” I turned in time to see Brian swinging at me. I moved quick enough to dodge full contact, but the hammer in his hand caught my chin, and everything went black as I fell. I came to a few minutes later, feeling warm wetness run down my chin and neck. Two blurry shapes stood in front of me. “......teach you to hold another man.” A sharp banging above me felt like a saw splitting open my scalp, and I sat up, trying to clear my vision. I wish I hadn’t. Chelsea stood, back against the door, arms raised. Duct tape covered her mouth. Brian had a bunch of tenpenny nails in his mouth, and as I watched, he stuck another one into Chelsea’s hand and hammered it into the door. I could see at least four nails piercing her already. “St.....stop.....” I groaned, trying to get to my feet. Brian swung around with the hammer, this time connecting perfectly with my left temple. I felt and heard the sickening crack it made against my skull, then I felt nothing at all. Four days later, lying in my hospital bed, I heard a knock on my door. Most of my fraternity brothers had stopped by since my accident. Brian quietly entered, followed by Chelsea. I could see very thick wraps of gauze on both her hands. “What happened?” I asked her, staring at her hands. “You don’t remember?” she asked. “No. Doctors said I got hit in the head, but I don’t really remember how or why. Short-term memory loss, or something.” “You were mugged after dropping Chelsea off at home,” Brian said. “The sicko smashed you in the head and stuck Chelsea’s hands to her door with nails.” He wrapped his arms around her, a gentle gesture, but Chelsea looked frightened rather than comforted. They made small talk for a little bit, but appeared relieved when I told them felt another headache coming on. I’m sure they had more important things to be doing than sitting with me bored out of their minds. Brian slipped his arm around Chelsea as they said bye and walked out the door. I don’t know how she put up with him sometimes, but they really did look cute together. |
|
| Author: | Laurel in Ely [ Mon Feb 01, 2010 12:59 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
No One Leaves 1878 Randall stared at the shambles of the gallows as Henderson rode away on the stolen horse alongside three of his gang. He felt anger and despair as he watched his wife's killer ride out of town, getting lost in the dust the horses kicked up. He walked to the pile of lumber that had been the gallows and reached down to offer a hand to Sheriff Swan. Swan reached up from where he sat, which was his landing spot after jumping off the gallows as the structure collapsed. His hand felt the strength of Randall's hand as he was helped to his feet. Swan brushed himself off as best he could. "Don't worry, Randall. We've got enough fellas to go after them. Henderson will pay for his crimes." "I know, Sheriff." Swan walked off towards his office, yelling for his deputy to round up some men for a posse. Randall watched him go, then walked over to his shop. Randall was the main carpenter in town, and he also helped his brother Neil at the blacksmith's place. He unlocked his door and went inside. He searched amongst his tools and some of the furniture he was building, but didn't find what he was looking for. He left his shop and headed for the blacksmith's. Before reaching it, he came upon Digger the undertaker. "You got any nails, Dig? None in my shop." Digger looked over his hawkish nose at him. "I've got a bit. I was gonna use em on Henderson's coffin." Digger rounded up some nails, and gave them to Randall. Randall thanked him and headed into the blacksmith's. Neil was there, waiting. "Bout time you got here. What's the plan?" Randall handed him the nails. "Melt these down and cast em as bullets. How long?" "Come back after midnight. You know where he's goin?" Randall nodded. "I ain't part of the gang anymore, but they still got the same hidey-holes. Probably where they started that witchcraft mumbo jumbo." Randall went home to his empty house, opened the secret closet he'd built into the bedroom and pulled out his two six-shooters. He cleaned them, put on his gun belt, and holstered the guns. He then sat in his kitchen and waited. Randall waited several hours after it got dark before riding his horse to Neil's. When he went inside, Neil handed him ten bullets and nodded. Randall nodded back, loaded his pistols, spun the cylinder so the empty slot would be last, and reholstered them. He left Neil's, got on his horse and headed northwest. A half hour before dawn, Randall came upon the small valley that Henderson and his gang used as one of their hideouts. Randall knew it well, having been part of the gang many years ago, before meeting his beloved wife. He got off his horse some distance from the camp and continued on foot. The first lookout he came upon he snuck up from behind, clamped a hand over the lookout's mouth and slit his throat. Blood flew, looking dark in the coming dawn. He gently laid the dead man on the ground and went on. The second lookout was better, hearing Randall and turning to fight him, only to catch the knife in the heart with pained expression. Randall reached a small clearing just as the sun was creeping over the mountains, casting the two cabins and small barn there in an almost heavenly glow. Or, as Randall thought, a glow from the fires of perdition. One cabin would house Henderson, the other what was left of the gang, no more than three men, he reckoned. Randall let out a screeching yell and, within fifteen seconds, three men had some racing out of the left cabin, half dressed, rifles in hands. Randall pulled one of his pistols and dispatched all three men with three shots. He ran to the cabin and burst in, gun ready, only to find the cabin empty. He quickly checked the barn, finding only the gang's horses. That left Henderson. Randall crept over to the other cabin, pistols in both hands. The door was ajar, and some firelight spilled through the crack. He took a deep breath, stood to the side of the door and nudged it fully open with his foot. The expected gunshots didn't come. "I'm unarmed, Randall." Randall peeked around and saw that Henderson was unarmed. In fact, he stood towards the back of the cabin's main room, arms spread wide. Off in a corner was a strangely dressed woman muttering words Randall couldn't quite make out. He entered the cabin, pistols trained on Henderson. "I killed your woman because no one leaves my gang, Randall. Me and my witch'll make sure of that." Henderson smiled. Randall's pistols roared, the smell of smoke and gunpowder in the air. Henderson was hit six times in the chest, pushed against the back wall and slid down it. The strange woman screeched and Randall used his last bullet to shot her in the head. A bright light shone from the bullet hole and engulfed Randall. When Randall realized he could see again, he was sitting on a cot in the town jail, Swan and Neil standing on the other side of the bars looking at him. "Judge said that he was okay with the gang getting theirs, but not the woman. Randall's gonna hang." "I understand, Sheriff. He would, too." "I gotta small problem. We don't have a lot of tenpennies. What little we had went to rebuilding the gallows, but we're still short. And Digger doesn't have any for the coffin. We got the guns from Randall and the gang. Digger even dug out the fired bullets. Think you can melt them down and make me some more nails?" Randall went pale, while behind the two men a transparent Henderson gave a wry smile. No one leaves. |
|
| Author: | Laurel in Ely [ Mon Feb 01, 2010 1:00 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
The Footprint Franklin Noseworthy raised the hammer in his right hand and drove the tenpenny nail into the footprint of Magdalene Summerfields. It was common knowledge in the town of Sprig Of Rosemary that a sure way to expose a Servant of Satan was to hammer a tenpenny nail into her footprint. The offending nail would vex the mind of the wicked one. She would fret and worry and feel out of sorts until she felt a strange compulsion to wander back to her footprint and, in a trance-like state, reach down and pull out the nail. At which point Franklin Noseworthy would raise the Hammer of God (as he called it) and strike her head. A Child of Satan would certainly die from a blow to the head while our beloved Saviour would surely save an innocent person from the same such trauma. Old Helma Truscott, God bless her, had proved her innocence by surviving such a blow. She now spent her days and nights lying in bed, spittle crawling down her chin like a curious spider, spouting such niceties as “Moisten my cunt with your fuzz laden tongue,” to her appalled Grandson. Franklin had killed 13 women in his life, some of them actual witches. He had discovered early on in his witch hunting career that false accusations of witchhood were an effective way of keeping a town under your thumb. It mattered not to him that sometimes women had to be dragged against their will to the nailed footprint. A corrupt town council and a local gang of thugs helped keep the people of The Sprig in fear of Franklin. A monthly tribute of gold or livestock would help towards keeping your wife’s name off Franklin’s witch list. Franklin enjoyed spreading his seed and a sexual favour from your wife or daughter was also an acceptable bribe. Unfortunately, he was also apt to spread the fiery-red rash that covered his groin area like an unfortunate birth mark. Despite his proclivity to copulate with anything breathing (or at least, freshly departed) Franklin was married to a fine, attractive woman. She had black hair and eyes green like an Irish summer. He loved her as much as he was capable of, although her failure to produce a son bothered him. Franklin had mastered the fine art of deception and as far as his wife knew he was a tough but kind-hearted town leader. “Fool ‘em or rule ‘em” Franklin would laugh to his cohorts. Magdalene Summerfields stormed into Franklin’s life in early winter and it was soon obvious that he couldn’t intimidate her. She settled in a house near the center of town and the people couldn’t help but admire and revere her. She spoke her mind at town hall meetings and was a source of advice and medicinal remedies (a sure sign of witchhood to Franklin). She feared nothing and mocked Franklin to his face and to the other residents. The sight of her walking down the street in her yellow shawl gave Franklin a throbbing ache behind his left eye. Thinking about his wife is what he was doing about an hour after he had hammered a nail into Magdalene’s footprint. But soon he saw Magdalene’s familiar yellow shawl shambling up the path, her face slack and wan in the light of the moon. He crept up behind her and with a twinkle in his eye brought the hammer down on her head. Magdalene fell face forward; the back of her head a kaleidoscope of skin, bone, brain and… Black Hair……? Franklin turned the body over and held back a whimper as a pair of lovely, but dead, green eyes stared back at him. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes like little springs. “How?” he whimpered. “It was Magdalene. I saw her.” “A simple spell Franklin.” Franklin spun around to see Magdalene standing behind him. “Never trust your eyes Franklin. Sometimes they see what they want. She came to me wanting something to help strengthen her womb. She didn’t even know that she was already with child.” Franklin let forth the wail of a man newly widowed. It was a wail he had heard in other men many times before. But even in grief the thought of murder was never far away. He raised his hammer. “No Franklin. You have murdered your wife and unborn child. The curse is complete. You can only terrorize a town for so long before the people resort to witchcraft to make you suffer like they have. The town has begun to heal itself. Your reign of terror had left it as diseased as your loins.” Franklin dropped the hammer and covered his crotch as if to protect it. “But you will never heal Franklin. You will live for a long time. Your disease will spread without end until your body becomes something inhuman. You will be hideous. The pain will be exquisite. But you won’t die” Magdalene closed her eyes as if in ecstasy. She sighed softly as if reliving a pleasant memory. After a moment her eyes shot open once again. Her pupils were hard pinpricks in a blue sea filled with sharks. “But I am not without mercy Franklin. There is an out. Close your eyes.” Franklin closed his eyes and his mind flooded with images. He saw his possible future, felt the utter despair, and he saw the way out. He nodded his head, terrified, but in a strange way grateful. Do you understand?” Franklin nodded. He watched with grim fascination as Magdalene reached down and with two fingers plucked something out the heel of her foot. She held it out to Franklin. He took it in his left hand and examined it. It was a tenpenny nail, shining, gleaming. No blood stained it. It looked newly forged by the devil’s own blacksmith. Raising the nail he placed the sharp end near the pupil of his left eye. With his right hand he picked up the hammer. |
|
| Author: | ttzuma [ Mon Feb 01, 2010 1:53 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
Thank you Laurel! I'm going to have to read these a few more times. For some reason, none of them jumped out at me as much as when we did it the first time. I think its because the stories this time seem more mature, more serious somehow. I'm going to read them again tonight at home, and do it slowly. Tt |
|
| Author: | ttzuma [ Mon Feb 01, 2010 2:42 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
Well, I couldn't wait and read them again. These stories are are pretty good when you take your time with them. And when you think about it, as short as they are, they all leave a discomfort within you that's hard to shake. Tt |
|
| Author: | ttzuma [ Mon Feb 01, 2010 3:40 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
I'm going to take a wild guess here and say that Horrordude is the author of Together. Tt |
|
| Author: | TMLCrow [ Mon Feb 01, 2010 5:12 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
I think they're better this time around because there was more thought put into the story. No offense to Nanci's suggestion of first dates, but everyone, for the most part, were fairly close in their stories. These varied more. I don't think Dude did Together. At least at this point. Maybe another reading or two will help. I'll go a bit more in depth in a day or two. I'd like to mull these over some more. |
|
| Author: | Jazminsdaddy [ Mon Feb 01, 2010 5:31 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
| Author: | ttzuma [ Mon Feb 01, 2010 9:13 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
Some quick thoughts on the stories: After reading them all several times, I think all of the stories did a really good job in making me feel disturbed as I was reading them. The writing in this batch seems to be much better than the first ones we did, and the stories are more focused. There’s not a bad story in the bunch in my opinion, though if you asked me for my favorite, I don’t think I could give you one. I also think the tone of the stories are very similar as did J.D., so for some reason, one story doesn't stand out more than the others for me. I am going to put some comments down below about the individual stories because after the last batch, there were some comments about how we hadn’t followed up with some constructive criticisms. These comments below are not meant to denigrate any of the stories, like I said, I enjoyed all of them, but I did take some notes when I first read them and these were the first things that popped into my mind after finishing them. The Footprint: I really enjoyed this one. I had no idea where the story was going the whole time I was reading it. I have to read it more carefully though as I’m not sure how Franklin’s loin was diseased if in fact his wife was pregnant. I’m also not sure what Franklin could have seen in the vision that was more devastating than living a life knowing he killed his wife and unborn child. I do understand that there was a word limit, and I think the author did a great job getting down enough info though to get the story told. No One Leaves Alive: Another good story, pretty original, and I loved the Wild West setting. I’m not sure though what the while light coming out of the witch at the end had to do with anything. I really loved the ironic ending on this one. Ten-Penny Nails: I thought I knew where this one was going, and in a way, I was fooled and a bit surprised. An easy read that got its point across nicely. I thought some of the names were too similar though when it came to his sister and his niece, though her nickname, Collie, added a nice touch, foreshadowing what was to come. I also would have liked to have known that he was in a police station at the beginning of the story. Porcupine: The best written I think. It had a great back-story and it flowed very nicely. I am not a fan of omniscient author stories however, it always reminds me that I’m observing a story rather than being a part of it. Even so, I admit to being captivated by the story as I was reading it. This is the story I keep going back to in my mind when I think of this exercise. It has a depth to it that the others do not. Grandpa Joe: I thought this started out as a great story, and it had me interested all the way through. I thought the ending was weak however, it had such a big build up and the ending kind of petered out for me. This story would have benefited from a longer format. Was It Worth It? : I thought this was an interesting story, but I didn’t buy into the premise. I think because it needed more time to establish itself. The ending with the wife was a bit too melodramatic for me. It did keep me interested right up to the end however. Together: I really liked the use of dialog in this story. I think realistic dialog is hard to write and I had no trouble with this one at all. The whole boot thing though didn’t ring true, but the whole psycho jealous boyfriend plot line did. For some reason, a crazy lover killing another gives me goosebumps. |
|
| Author: | horrordude [ Tue Feb 02, 2010 2:24 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
Everyone did a great job again. I'll comment on the stories one at a time in the next few days. Porcupine Boy, as Tt stated, was a well written story. Sometimes people have a problem making a story with no dialogue really work on you, but it worked here. and I agree that this was one of the best of the stories. I'll guess it was Thad who wrote it? And unlike last time, I won't wait and just admit to writing Grandpa Joe. I agree with Tt that it would have been a better story if I'd written it longer. I had another story, but still think Grandpa Joe was the better of the two. |
|
| Author: | Jazminsdaddy [ Tue Feb 02, 2010 10:47 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
I will add my comments: No One Leaves Alive: Very well written. I really liked this one but like Tony I was a little confused at the ending which took away from some of the punch of the story. I understood what happened at the end but it felt kind of like a mish mash of ideas rather than being tied together. With some tidying up of the end this story wouldn't feel out of place in a short story collection. I really really like the writing in this story. Ten-Penny Nails: The main character was pretty good. He felt authentic but also like a literary creation at the same time. I swear when I was reading this I started using a New York accent in my head which is awesome. I took this one as a bit of a black comedy. It was fairly predictable though. Grandpa Joe: My thoughts one this one are similar to Tony's. I thought it was well written, good premise, good execution, nice feeling of nostalgia. The ending just seemed a little to out of nowhere; could have used a bit of foreshadowing on the Grandpa's other life. I did like the dichotomy between a loving grandpa and a serial killer and the resulting inner conflict of the grandson. At the end I asked myself the question, "Does Grandson have a bit of Grandpa in him?" and I like that the story (in my opinion) hinted at that. Was It Worth It? : The one thing I thought this story needed was more reason for him to be doing what he was doing; like maybe the wife cheated on him. But there's a lot of weird shit that goes on in the world and I don't doubt that this stuff happens. That said, I like this kind of analytical observation of a man impaling himself with nails, and I felt the desperation that led him to do this. It made me feel squirmy, which is a good thing. Together: This story rang true for me like if the writer is just out of college and knew people like this. The dialogue, the characters feel authentic. The boot thing is plausible to me. Jealous men do a lot of f*cked up shit. Overall though, it was fairly predictable although the image of the girlfriend bring crucified on the front door was a powerful one. I will cop to Porcupine Boy and The Footprint both being my stories. I wrote both and couldn't choose one to submit so I begged Laurel to let me submit two and she gave me permission. The Footprint: I really like the beginning and the ending of this story. I just wished I had more words to develop Magdalene and the wife. I thought they were ridiculously short changed. The original title of the story was "Two Women" but I felt like the story didn't live up to the title. It was going to be about the relationship between these three people and the resulting tragedy. To answer your questions Tony, Frankin had some kind of STD and while it was serious enough to cause a rash it wasn't serious enough to make him infertile. Also, the future he sees is the one that Magdalene describes, the STD spreading over his body and as Magdalene says: "But you will never heal Franklin. You will live for a long time. Your disease will spread without end until your body becomes something inhuman. You will be hideous. The pain will be exquisite. But you won’t die." Basically, Mag laid a curse on Franklin that would be fulfilled once he killed his wife and unborn son. The curse is that his body will become one huge festering sore of an STD. The only way for him to not live out that curse is for him to hammer a nail into his left eye, killing himself. The Porcupine Boy: I was very happy with how this story turned out. In the beginning I wanted to see if I could tell a story in less than 50 words and I did. And I liked it so much I had to expand it. Basically, the story has a couple of themes, ideas running through it. The main one is how we sometimes live our lives through other things like TV, movies, etc and how in a way this supplants our own lives and how this can stunt us emotionally; it can stunt our ability to connect with other people, etc. Franklin in many ways remains the same little boy who witnessed the porcupine being tortured. In the end when Corrine rejects him he has no idea how to react, how to cope with heartbreak. So he retreats to his room and searches for the quill which connects him to his childhood. The last scene is him killing her but also him using his nails to try to connect her to him, literally (as the nails impale her body) but emotionally as well. And it works as she sees his life in a vision at the end. She cries for him and his sad life but she also cries for herself as she knows he is going to kill her. So, overall nice job, thanks for the entertaining reading and let's do it again soon! And thanks for the kind words re: Porcupine and Footprint. |
|
| Author: | Craig Cook [ Tue Feb 02, 2010 3:05 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
Ummm, I hate to give it away already, but.... I wrote "Together". However, the whole story hasn't been posted on here for some reason. It's missing a nice chunk of the ending, and I don't know if Laurel missed it or I screwed up in emailing it to her. Just FYI in case somebody reads it and goes WTF??? 
|
|
| Author: | ttzuma [ Tue Feb 02, 2010 3:13 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
I assumed we were to use our imagination due to the word limit. Ha! Tt |
|
| Author: | Laurel in Ely [ Tue Feb 02, 2010 4:42 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
Craig. I posted the entire piece I received. Send it to me again and I'll repost it. |
|
| Author: | jesus was a robot [ Tue Feb 02, 2010 4:55 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
I think all the stories turned out pretty good. Personally I felt like the 1,000 word limit really forced me to tighten down my story a bit too much. I think that if we increased it to say 1,500 words, it would be easier to add a better flow and more detail. But all in all, I had fun and look forward to participating again! |
|
| Author: | Jazminsdaddy [ Tue Feb 02, 2010 4:56 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
Laurel, curious about your thoughts considering you've had a longer time to digest the stories, etc and how you compare them to the first batch. |
|
| Author: | Jazminsdaddy [ Tue Feb 02, 2010 4:57 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
| Author: | Laurel in Ely [ Tue Feb 02, 2010 5:58 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
| Author: | Laurel in Ely [ Tue Feb 02, 2010 6:04 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
Craig. I went back, checked the story folder and found the rest of your story. Apparently, my computer put a blank page right before the last page and I thought the story had ended. It was my mistake, sorry. I have corrected the error. |
|
| Author: | TMLCrow [ Tue Feb 02, 2010 6:14 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
No One Leaves belongs to me. The reason for the light was definitely word limit. But as I stated last time, my primary purpose with this is to experiment, not necessarily to have a polished story. I've never written an Old West story and I had the first sentence and the ending. I wanted to do something based on the poem that starts "For want of a nail the shoe was lost. For want of a shoe the horse was lost...", but nothing worked out. |
|
| Author: | ttzuma [ Tue Feb 02, 2010 6:21 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
| Author: | TMLCrow [ Tue Feb 02, 2010 6:39 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
Sorry, I should've been clearer. I went with this story because nothing based on the poem worked. The story you see has nothing to do with the poem. Sorry for the confusion. |
|
| Author: | ttzuma [ Tue Feb 02, 2010 7:31 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
Rereading your post, I can see where I was the one confused. Sorry about that. Tony |
|
| Author: | horrordude [ Wed Feb 03, 2010 1:02 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
| Author: | ShariTN [ Wed Feb 03, 2010 10:48 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
I really enjoyed this round of stories. I think this time they were more "visual" for the most part. As I was reading them I could see it happening, and that's always the mark of a good story for me. There were a couple i didn't really "get" but they were still good visual pieces. Some of the endings left me a little confused though, I do think a bigger word count would have helped that. 1000 words is hard to do. When I wrote my story for the first round It was originally 1400 words but by having to cut out 400 words it really made it more flat and confusing. My favorites are No One Leaves and Grandpa Joe. |
|
| Author: | TMLCrow [ Wed Feb 03, 2010 7:38 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Presenting... Tenpenny Nails! |
Thanks, Laurel and Shari. You obviously have good taste.  
|
|
| Page 1 of 2 | All times are UTC - 5 hours [ DST ] |
| Powered by phpBB® Forum Software © phpBB Group http://www.phpbb.com/ |
|