theodor gericault raft of the medusaPainting Theodor Gericault’s Raft of the Medusa

Heavily influenced by comic books, monster flicks, kung-fu, sci-fi, horror and gore; I have a vivid imagination. At the same time, I make no claims to be a great intellectual fictional writer. Most times my written grammar and spelling is atrocious, yet I feel my creativity still needs an outlet. From some encouragement and somewhat of a dare, I begin to write a novel. The complexities and visions of the fictitious and otherworldly world that’s in my mind are attempting to make its way out. How good the attempt is…well that is for you to decide.

You will or may not have a clue as to what’s this shit about but don’t ask me to reveal it; you know because of creative secrecy and all. What I do want is your HONEST feedback, regardless the nature of it. I’m open to harsh blunt critique and criticism. How else would I know and grow? Chew it up and spit it out if you have to, tell me it’s the worst shit you ever read and don’t quit my day job. Tell me to never write again and you hope my fingers have to get amputated due to frost bite. All I want is the reward of your honest feedback after you have given me the honor of reading my work. Thank You.

Chapter One: We Will Kill Them All

Steven opens his eyes and slowly blinks repeatedly to focus. He turns and looks to his left to see what was causing the steady electronic beeping. It’s a heart monitor recording his pulse. Steven looks forward, takes a deep breath and exhales realizing he’s in the hospital.

Steven can barely make out the words of the smiling weatherman on the television. Sunny this coming weekend; however it will be cloudy on Friday according to the forecast. The curtains are slightly ajar, allowing him to see the mirrored reflection of the sky from the windows of the neighboring building. “Is it getting lighter or getting darker outside? What time is it, why am I here?” He thinks to himself as a scowl comes over his face.

He can barely make out the time at the bottom of the television news cast marque. He squints, 6:14pm it reads. It’s getting darker. His body is sore. He winces as he sucks air through his teeth in reaction to the pain. He exhales and tries to relax. His eyes feel heavy, dusty, dirty. Steven drifts back off to sleep.


His right eye opens. Focus. He lifts his head. All he can see are wet leaves, dirt…mud. Its dark, there is a light drizzle of rain and he is in the woods.

He blinks his right eye. Focus…focus. Why can’t he open his left eye? It’s too painful.

He can feel the tightness of his skin. He knows his eye is swollen shut. Throbbing. He feels the warmth of blood trickling across his forehead. He tries to get up but cant. His left arm will not move. He has very little feeling in it. He feels like his body is failing him. He can’t seem to catch his breath. His chest hurts. “Why am I laying on my chest?” he wonders.

He attempts to push himself up off the ground. He just can’t move his left arm. He slowly braces himself with his right arm. He struggles. Its dark, he feels cold and damp. He looks at his fingers as they sink into the ground as he pushes himself up. The pain is unimaginable. He begins to cough. Wet, deep coughs. Blood and fluids spray the ground in front of him. He lifts his head. The mixture bloody mucus and pus ooze from his nose and run down his mouth and chin. He thinks,

Where’s Donovan?

Doing his best to balance himself with his right arm, Steven moves his head and torso. So much pain. He lowers himself back down to the ground. It’s too difficult to breathe while he is on his chest. His sides hurt every time he inhales. He must roll over onto his back. He counts to three and pushes himself over with his right arm. He screams out in agony. His scream is interrupted by more coughing. The intenseness of the coughs causes his body to jerk. He rises up a little ways to allow himself to spit the blood from his mouth.

The back of his head is throbbing. It’s so intense, he can hear the throbbing in his ears. He looks down at his right leg and can see bone protruding out the side of his jeans. He looks at his left leg and is confused as to why his foot is lying flat facing inwards. He has no sensation in the foot but can feel swelling in his ankle. He realizes his ankle is broken. He feels helpless but it’s quickly overshadowed as he begins to cough. He feels exhausted. He eases back down onto his back. He lays his head down but is careful to rest on the right side of his face due to the throbbing from the back of his head and the swelling to the left side of his face. He thinks to himself; where is Donovan?

He gathers strength. Pushes himself up and rests on his right elbow. As he struggles to catch his breath he pushes himself up so he is sitting with his torso upright but hunched and legs flat. He notices the pain in his left shoulder. He wipes his right eye. It doesn’t help much. It still feels dirty. He takes his left hand and places it on his lap.

He can make out the form. The partly cloudy night allows him to see the patches of white of the t-shit. There is no movement but he knows its Donovan. Steven calls his name. “Donovan”, but doesn’t get a response. He tries to call louder but only wheezes the name due to his shortness of breath.

Donovan is about 20 feet away in the darkness, laying on his back. Steven grabs the earth with his right hand and pulls himself. With his buttocks and legs flat on the ground, he pulls. He pulls and begins to sob. His sobs are mixed with grunts of pain as he pulls. He pulls his body inches at a time slowly towards his love…Donovan. His limp left arm can do nothing. The pain from his left shoulder keeps his neck tense and rigid. He positions his right leg so as he drags himself across the ground he can try to keep the dirt and debris from getting on the protruding bone of his shin. As he pulls, he can feel the heaviness of his left foot as it drags along the ground creating small mounds of debris. The swelling in the ankle feeling like it is weighing his movement. But still he pulls.

He can feel small twigs and gravel impacting under is nails. He feels the coldness of the earth in his hand. His body contracts as he has to cough. He prepares himself for the pain. His lungs pressing against his ribs and aching sides, he coughs. He spits blood from his mouth as he finishes. Through labored breathing he hears gurgling sounds. He pauses and listens intently. He tries to listen over the throbbing in his head. He hears them again and realizes they are coming from Donovan. He knows it’s the sounds of air mixed with the liquid thickness of blood and fluids as Donovan attempts to breath.  With added purpose Steven again begins to pull himself towards Donovan.

Donovan’s head is now only a few feet away. The brief odd joy that Steven feels for completing this tasks given the situation vanishes. “Oh god what did they do to you?” Steven thinks to himself. He can now see the bloody disfigured form that is Donovan’s face.

Recognizing Steven is near, Donovan’s wet breathing intensifies. Steven now at his side, “shhh shhh” as he says to Donovan, “man, don’t talk, save your breath, save your breath.” As Steven settles down next to Donovan, he can hear his mumbles as Donovan sputters out “I love you”.
“I love you too” Steven says as tears rolls from his eye and mixes with particles of dirt on his check. Donovan’s breathing becomes heavier as he slowly raises his head. “They beat us”, he says. His neck begins to shake as he looks toward Steven. Blood and other fluids exude from Donovan’s face.   Steven closes his eye. Even though he is already in pain, seeing Donovan in this state deals an emotional hit to the chest. His heart sinks to see the man that he loves in this gruesome state.

The throbbing in his head increases now that he has completed the task of reaching Donovan. The swelling continues to tighten the skin on his face from his left eye all the way down to under his chin.

He opens his right eye as Donovan begins to speak. The faint words gurgle through, “We ill…we ill dem” Donovan mutters. Confused, Steven can’t make out what was said. He moves in and puts his ear directly over Donovan’s mouth. Donovan takes a breath and begins to speak clearly, “We will kill them. We will kill them all.”

Steven feels the exhaling breath on his ear.   The life force leaves Donovan and his head falls back to the ground.   In agony, exhausted and heart broken, Steven places the right side of his head on Donovan’s shoulder looking directly into his face. Steven is exhausted. He closes his right eye and takes a breath.

He is prepared to die.

The darkness. It’s Quiet. All is still.

The darkness is void of sound, but filled with, something. Steven feels at the center of it. He feels weightless, like he is floating. His emotions are impulsive with anger.

He begins to hear the gurgling wet heavy breathing from Donovan.

Very faint and soft, Steven can hear Donovan say, “We will kill them. I will wait until you’re ready.” Closer and closer, clearer and clearer, Steven can hear…”we WILL kill them”.

Steven sees the mangled brutally deformed face. Donovan’s voice is now loud, direct and forceful…


Steven’s eyes open.  Breathing heavy, he feels like he has been forced awake.  He is sitting straight up in his hospital bed.  He looks around and his gaze stops at the familiar sight of the beeping heart monitor.  He thinks “I am alive, but?”  He knows Donovan is dead.  They killed him.