hellboundandsinful

Horror Lust: Dahlia

            I fixed my mask as I kicked down another boarded up door, busting into the crumbling house. In just the last few years since ‘The End’ came, you can see how much was reclaimed by Mother Nature. The once polished wood buckled under my feet, creaking loudly as I walked across. My long leather coat brushed the floor, clearing the dust, as I pulled out the blade that went across my back. Crouching low, I quickly dived into the closest room, taking notice that it was the living room. Nothing was there, but I did not trust it. Staying down, I started turning the room over, filling my large rucksack with useful bits and bobs, chuckling only when I found an old iPhone… It was a 5th generation, too. Nevertheless, only the military used phones, anymore.

            For nostalgia, I put it in my back pocket of my leather pants, gliding silently to the room that was across the hall. It was the dining room. I checked the door, noticing the few bits of silver silverware was left in the china cabinet, I bagged those, glad someone forgot them, as I moved into the kitchen.

            “Fuck.” I ducked behind one of the counters, eyeing the infected monster that swayed on its feet. It hadn’t noticed me yet; thank whatever powers may be, so I stalked silently over, quickly getting in its blind spot when it turned, eyeing where I just was. An inky black-blue liquid oozed out of its mouth, staining the once white fabric of its shirt. Standing straight, I eyed the back of its head, hoping against all things, that it didn’t turn around. Readying the katana, I swung my right arm, lopping off its head in a nice, clean, stroke. “Oh thank god.” My shoulders sagged a bit as I sighed in relief, placing the sword back into its sheath across my back.

            After that, the house was silent, except for the birds that nested in its bones. I bent down; check the pockets of the corpse. And lo and behold, he was carrying some pills and matches. Stashing those away, I made my way upwards, towards the bedrooms. One of the rooms looked like it belonged to a teenage boy. Gnawing on my lip under the gas mask, I closed the door, breaking off the knob so no one else could enter. The other room belonged to, what appeared to be, two twin sisters. I dug around, find out one had a bad addiction to drugs, if all the pills were anything to go by, and the other was suicidal. “A perfectly broken home hidden by money, classic America.” I sneered, finally pulling off the mask, clipping it to my waist by one of the many guns I carried with me. Brushing back one of my bright purple dreads, I tried to tame the black mess that covered my skull.

            “Fuck it, I’ll deal with it later.” I picked up my bag, placing the razorblades in a special pouch, along with the pills, before going into the parents room. “Well, I’d hate to be his neighbor.” Apparently, the husband had a peeping problem, judging by the pictures I found stashed under a loose floorboard. “And people thought I was troubled.” I found a vase and dumped out the dead flowers, shoving the pictures in there. I took out a match and lit it, dropping the flaming stick on top of half-nude photos of the neighborhood daughters and wives. The guy’s wife wasn’t that better either. I found letters to a ‘Mr. Jackson’, which sounded like an affair with another man. Picking up an envelope, I opened it to see a picture of the Missus going at it hard with another woman. “Sick fucks.”

            Throwing those into the dying flames, I took her romance novels, needing something to kill time with, along with some spare fabric, stash of alcohol, more matches and pills, and a couple of loose bullets. I started down the stairs again, but froze, hearing the sound of wood splintering. Swearing, I ran back up the stairs. It’d be just my luck to be caught up in a patrol. I looked around, not seeing a place for me to squeeze into. Footsteps pounded loudly up the steps, alerting me once again to a possible raid. I went back into the Twins’ room and opened one of the closets, thanking my luck that it was also the entrance to the attic. Pulling the string, the hatch opened, allowing the flimsy ladder to slide down to my feet. I raced up the rungs, throwing my bag up before hauling my fat ass up, sighing happily that my ass and hips didn’t get me stuck. Just as I was about to pull the ladder up did the door handle start rattling. I left the ladder and just rolled over, hoping that whoever it is wouldn’t check up the ladder.