On Friday the 13th of November, 1992 three young girls from Alcasser, Spain, were heading to a disco in the town of Picasent, when they were picked up by a car. From that moment, Miriam García Iborra, Toñi Gómez Rodríguez and Desirée Hernández Folch were never seen alive again.
Their corpses were eventually found by beekeepers two months later in the town of Tous. They had been beaten, raped tortured and eventually shot. One girl had her nipple cut off while still alive and another had her vagina mutilated. The remains were in an advanced state of decay and two of the corpses were found buried in a big hole inside a carpet, with their skulls separated from their bodies and their hands tied.
Two men were found guilty of the crime: Antonio Anglés and Miguel Ricart. Miguel was sentenced to 170 years in prison although he only spent 21 years. Anglés somehow escaped to Lisbon where he hid on a ship headed to Dublin. One of the biggest controversies in Spain’s criminal history emerged after he was found: Although only Ricart was found and jailed, he was allegedly the one who just hid the corpses, while a third suspect, and the biggest perpetrator of the crime, remained at large.
A disturbing theory that surrounds the crime is that the girls were the unfortunate stars of a series of snuff movies and other depraved actions, involving several important personalities of that time, including politicians and members of the Church. This is supported by forensic evidence after mitochondrial DNA from 7 different people apart from acused was found at the crime scene. Many people still believe that the murders were covered up by the church, and that they had some involvement in this.
Today feels like the clock was set back on evolution, and part of me wants to step back with it; shut my eyes to the effort of change. It’s easier to turn a blind eye than turn and face the strange. But if we want a revolution, we can’t become what we oppose, throw the same stone that broke our hearts and bones, cause there’s love in anger but there’s no love in hate. So if you feel the weight of the world, don’t lose your sense of outrage, but don’t let hatred win. And as reality sinks in, use your indignation, to fuel the nation to be united by states of consciousness, not a state of decay. Cause what does it say about us that we consume readily, inhale and digest the very thing we claim we want to stay away from. Like a moth to a flame. The nature of blame means I let go of responsibility; If my hands not on the wheel I have no culpability. So if I want to be the change I wish to see in the world, I have to see myself more clearly, wipe the entitlement from my rose-coloured glasses. A glass ceiling won’t shatter if my vibrations are silent.
The crew gets meat at midnight, but they never can go far. They hold each other too close and lie about who they are. Rows of perfect houses, but the mothers still want more. They chain smoke in the bedroom and there’s fights behind the door.
But fate is a cruel mistress, girl, the prettiest in the world. She dresses loosely in a bathrobe with her hair up in curls. Because we were kissing for hours with her hands in my trousers, she could not contain herself, suggests we go back to her house. But here it comes, this is the crux, she vomits down my rental tux.
Milkshakes and cat eyes, lipstick and french fries. Internalize so much but so little. Don’t make us feel belittled world. Sneaking cigarrettes at lunchtime, sun feels safe and sublime. Pink sparkly sunglasses, lemonade by the pool.
And all we see, are kids in buses longing to be free. Some cities make you lose your head, endless suburbs stretched out thin and dead. And what was that line you said? Wishing you were anywhere but here. You watch the life you’re living disappear. And now I see, we’re still kids in buses longing to be free.
“After careful deliberation, Microsoft Studios has come to the decision to end production for Scalebound. We’re working hard to deliver an amazing lineup of games to our fans this year, including Halo Wars 2, Crackdown 3, State of Decay 2, Sea of Thieves and other great experiences.”
Yeah because the kind of audience that is interested in action adventures with dragons would totally be interested in these generic titles. Fuck Microsoft
Oceans don’t just spring up overnight. It must have taken millions, if not billions of years for the frog temple to reach this state of decay. Unless human history is radically different in this universe, this structure was built by something else.
That’s a freaking pterosaur. So either:
A: This time lapse actually ended in the time of the dinosaurs or B: This island has some kind of Lost World/King Kong thing going on.
I’m inclined to think that it’s the latter since option A would just be needlessly convoluted (even by Hussie standards).
Prompt: Modern AU where the reader is dating Alex and he and the hamilsquad decide to go to a haunted carnival even though she absolutely hates anything scary?
TW: this is classified as a horror/ghost story, I guess??
Word count: 1180
“Why are we doing this?” You gave a whine, clinging to your boyfriend’s arm. “You know I hate this, and yet, here we are!” You hissed, gripping his arm and squeezing tighter.
“Relax, dear, things will be fine.” Alexander cooed, patting your hand as he was unpacking the backpack he brought.
Currently, he and his friends, with you dragged along, were unpacking to camp. Near an abandoned amusement park. Great. Wonderful. It wasn’t like it was in a state of urban decay or anything, or out in the middle of nowhere. You were ready for a very long, and sleepless night, seeing how you couldn’t stand scary things. And after Laf practically forced you to watch American Horror Story: Freak Show with him, there was absolutely no way you were getting any sort of rest. Not tonight, not at all.
You helped set out the sleeping bags, before finding yourself staring at the remains of what used to be the ferris wheel. It wasn’t moving, of course, and there was no power in the park any longer, but it still freaked you out. The chipping paint, the buckets at the top that swayed with the breeze, the creaking of bolts that might give out at any second…you didn’t like it.
You’d begged Alex not to make you come. You had. But he insisted, and promised that he would protect you! Somehow that didn’t make you feel better.
“I’m going to get a fire pit started, Herc announced, as John brought rocks, and the kindling they packed.
“Then we’re going to look around.” Alex moved to grab your hand and you shuffled back.
“We? What we!? No, I’m staying here, by the fire, and Hercules.” You pouted.
John joined in on the expedition, and the two of them dragged you into the middle of the fairway. Dammit. Why were you friends with these maniacs? This was not fun! This was terror inducing! This is a story that ends up on the six o’clock news! ‘Five college students killed by knife wielding crazy clown with no jaw.’
You huffed, and clutched yourself to Alex’s arm as they began looking around, joking around and generally being dumb kids. You were scared…freaked out and uncomfrotable.
“Relax, (Y/N), it’s okay.” He gave your cheek a kiss as he and John began stepping towards the house of mirrors. The wood creaked beneath your feet, and Alex steered you around the areas where exposure had rotted the wood.
“See? Nothing to worry about.” John gave you a smile, and patted your shoulder. Half the mirrors were broken, again leading you to step around he shards scattered on the floor. A squeak left you as something skittered across your shoe. “Easy. You’re okay.”
You weren’t convinced.
Alex was looking at the various mirrors, watching his image be distorted by the murky, broken glass. Your eyes followed the images, frowning a little. Something didn’t feel right. Not at all…
“Hey…I…I don’t feel so good, you guys…can we go back now?” You stammered it out, and Alex took your hand.
“Sure, dear…” he looked at you in worry for a second, before he nodded to John, and the three of you began making your leave. Your sneaker made the floor creak, and you put your weight down just a little to hard, and the wood beneath splintered, bringing you down with it.
It felt like you were hurdling, like something had hold of your legs, and was pulling with ungodly force. You had a grip on Alex, but even he was dragged down by the force of whatever had you.
You cried for help, Alex panicking and trying to pull your writhing form from the ground, john grabbing your left arm to aid, and both of them heaving you back onto the solid wood. In truth, the elevation was only about two or three feet…but it felt like something had grabbed you…that hadn’t been your imagination, right?
“Hey, hey, you’re okay…no one’s hurt, you’re safe…” Alex was cooing to you where you sat in his lap, clutched to his chest as he rocked you. John helped him up, and exited the hall just as Hercules and Lafayette were tearing up the turf running towards you.
“Are you all okay?!”
“We heard screaming!” the questions were hard to take in, but you suddenly gave a cry and held your leg as the adrenaline wore off, Alex putting you down, and rolling your pant leg up to inspect, even as you cried for him to stop.
There were scratch marks, trailing from your shin to your ankle. And when you tried to reason that it was just where the wood splintered, you raised your other pant leg to find that near identical marks mirrored the abrasions on your left.
Thoroughly unnerved, John gathered you up as Alex tried to calm you down, that it was nothing, that it was just bad luck. Still, you all agreed to sleep in the van that night.
A few hours later, after a tense dinner of the food you’d all packed into tupperware and plastic bags, you pulled your sleeping bag into the back, the back seats turned down so that at least three of your could sleep lying down. Alex crawled into your sleeping bag with you, the both of you clutching each other for reassurance that nothing was wrong. The scratches on your legs were covered with all the band-aids they had, and disinfected just in case. John slept on the other side of Alex, Laf slept in the front, with Herc in the driver’s seat.
You all said your goodnights, and before long, the night air was still. It was a fall evening, and just a tad bit chillier than you were used to. You clutched to Alex, and started drifting into a peaceful rest.
Not an hour later, there was music; you could hear it. It woke not only you, but your boyfriend. Who punched John, who started rapidly tapping Herc’s shoulder, who shook Laf awake. Their eyes were glued out the window.
The lights were on.
The entire amusement park was lit up, and music could be heard from the ferris wheel you’d been staring at only hours ago. It was moving.
Even dulled as it was through the glass of the window, you could hear the organ playing. The merry-go-round was spinning, though half of the horses were missing, and the other half lacked various extremities.
Herc fumbled for the keys, trying to get out of there as quickly as he could. The car puttered at first, and Laf cursed in French, pounding on the dashboard until, at last, it spurred to life, and the van ripped through the the fallen leaves, back towards the main road, and out of sight.
The five if you sat in huddled horror, Alex holding you close and murmuring apologies and comforts into your hair. He could feel you shaking.
The five of you drove home.
And you never spoke about it again.
Fun fact, I haven’t written Horror in years, but in fifth grade, I won a horror writing competition with four pages that I wrote in three hours, against published authors. This is about an hour or so. To be honest though, that attempt waaay back when was not my best work.
“The first night’s the toughest, no doubt about it. They march you in naked as the day you were born, skin burning and half blind from that delousing shit they throw on you, and when they put you in that cell… and those bars slam home… that’s when you know it’s for real. A whole life blown away in the blink of an eye. Nothing left but all the time in the world to think about it.”