Welcome to the first drabble in my new series called 'ABC Drabbles of Death', in this series we'll take a wander through the alphabet and I'll write a deathly drabble for each letter.
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A is for Axe
The silver smile, as sharp as the crescent moon invites me to play. The haft rests naturally in my hands, the weight of the blade is eager to strike. The swing forms a pure moment from start to finish as the blade slams deep into the meat. Its balance doesn’t require strength, only the swing.
A scream always accompanies the opening of another smile on the pale flesh. Another arc and another gaping wound. A chorus of screams in synchronicity with the axe.
One last swing and all is silent, the blade no longer silver, but still smiling. In red.
B is for Buried
Smothered in darkness, the air is warm and it’s difficult to breath. Where am I? How did I get here? I don’t remember! I cry out for help, my voice loud in my ears. The walls press close, I cannot move. The suffocating tomb swallows my frantic prayers.
Exhausted I slip into my personal darkness only to awake in the nightmare once more, the air is warmer and I feel light headed. I’m so weak that I lay in silence. Panic becomes my final companion in the darkness and it will hold me close until the air is no more.
C is for Cannibalism
Smart meat is my dining delight and I accept no substitute, after all, why restrict yourself to mundane flesh when you can consume the most treasured of delicacies?
Oh I know that people condemn cannibalism as a perversion, but what would they know? Have they filleted the skin from a choice thigh, the skin loose from being hung? How can they not realise how much sweeter the organs taste when you have looked into their eyes and seen the meat’s hopes and dreams fade to a glassy stare?
No they do not understand, but I do and I’m not alone.
D is for Defenestrate
I love the fact that there is a word that describes the act of throwing someone through a window. It makes life so much more convenient don’t you think? Yes I know, you’ll have my money by the end of the day, you promise, you swear on the lives of your children.
You might not be a man of your word, but I am.
I warned you and you still didn’t pay, so it’s time to find out if you can fly. I love it when the rich guys don’t pay, do you know why?
They always live in penthouses.
E is for Eviscerate
These days I prefer to use a hook. I started with a knife and that works fine. Too easy for my taste, I like there to be some skill. A hook takes more effort, a good swing to get it in, and then a yank to pull everything out.
There’s a knack to not nicking the bowels on the way in, not a pleasant smell if you do I can tell you!
The highlight for me is watching them weep and try to stuff everything back in. How it all ever fit inside is a wonder if you ask me.
F is for Finger
I know what you’re thinking. A finger can’t kill you. How wrong you are! With a finger I can pull a trigger and BANG, you’re dead. Okay, that would be cheating. How about this?
A sly diversion and a finger jabbed straight in your eye! I’m nervous on the first attempt, so it’ll only hurt a bit. There’ll be a struggle so I can get a clear shot and try again. I’ll keep jabbing until your eye is a wet mess and I stab through your retina and into your brain.
It’s not easy, but a finger can kill you.
G is for Grind
As a boy I lived near a quarry. My best friend and I played there whenever we could. We weren’t supposed to and we got into so much trouble whenever we were caught!
We didn’t stop though. Climbing the huge pile of rock was our favourite game. It wasn’t easy with the stones slipping beneath us, but the view from the summit was worth the effort.
We didn’t know that the mounds were positioned over trap doors; the rocks would pour through and be ground up into gravel.
I never played there again and Paul never played anywhere ever again.
H is for Hacksaw
It’s all in the preparation. You can never be too careful. The moment you start sawing the victim will struggle. Man or woman they will scream louder than anything you’ve ever heard and their strength beyond what you would expect.
We all have this primal instinct you see.
Naturally it takes time to saw through each of the joints and as you might imagine it creates one hell of a mess, but how else could I fit a person in such a small box?
Why not kill them first you might ask. Well where would be the fun in that?
I is for Imp
The Imp’s a tiny fellow; even so he once killed a man in the most horrible fashion I have ever witnessed.
He waited until the poor fellow slept and then superglued his lips and one nostril shut. He waited patiently to make sure that the skin had properly fused.
He then pissed into the man’s nostril.
He did it in my ear once and it burns I can tell you!
The man awoke panicked, unable to breath and demon urine flooding his lungs. The glue held firm and I stood amazed that such a tiny creature could piss so much.
J is for Jump
It’s a long way down and at the sight I almost lose my nerve. It’s almost funny really. I climbed all the way up here to make sure that the drop would kill me and now I’m afraid of falling.
Maybe this is a sign.
Not that it matters. This is the only choice left to me. My eyes fill with tears, but they are selfish tears for me alone. No-one else will lament for me.
That is the real sign for what must be done. One last moment of pain and then nothing more.
I step off the ledge…
K is for Kraken
From the dark depths it arose.
A thing that should not be. A creature from legend and nightmare. Yet here I stand on the deck of my trawler with today’s catch spilling from torn nets. Tentacles of fearsome size crush the boat as if it were no more than a child’s toy.
Screams of the crew and the screeching of tortured steel surround me. The spray of the sea and the sweat of my face chill my face.
The trawler snaps in two and victorious against its defenceless foe it drags me and my boat into the sun starved deep.
L is for Light
After so long alone in the dark I never imagined that it would be the light which killed me. For an age I hid from the decision waiting to be made. Instead I lurked alone in the vast unknown before time began.
A sacrifice would be needed so that others might come to be. I feared my death and what would happen next for me. Those yet to come would never comprehend the truth of my choice. Instead they would conjure up strange fantasies to explain the mystery.
Four little words which would change everything forever.
Let there be light.
M is for Martyr
The crowd came to watch me die. For some it’s their duty, for others the thrill, but some want to ensure that I can speak no more. It is the end for me and I have failed in my task save them from their impending doom.
I tried everything I could. I talked to everyone who would listen and even to those who wouldn’t. The elders accused me of spreading fear in their paradise. I refused to recant my warning.
So here I am, tied to the stake awaiting the flame.
It won’t stop the asteroid destroying their planet though.
N is for Necrophobia
I first discovered my fear of dead bodies at a young age. My nan had died and when my parents took me to view the body I freaked. Not so strange you might think, but it wasn’t grief which scared me.
The same happened at the death of my parents and then at the sight of a car crash. Whenever I saw a dead body fear overwhelmed me.
It’s not been that big a deal except for those few occasions. Of course things are different now and a paralysing terror of dead bodies isn’t that helpful during the zombie apocalypse.
O is for Orgasm
The French call an orgasm ‘le petite mort’, or ‘the little death’. At first glance it sounds like an odd phrase for such a moment. The instant which marks the culmination of union between two people. The passing of something intimate between them that can be recreated, but never truly the same.
A transient sacrifice you might say.
Personally I believe sacrifice should have value. So I slice the blade across their throats as they grunt and shiver their satisfaction above me. Their little death a damp patch between my legs and their real death a flood across my face.
P is for Pizzle
There’s nothing quite like the heft of a bull’s penis in your hand. It possesses a weight and flexibility which makes it an effective cudgel. It’s also an intimidating weapon, especially when people learn what it is I’m swinging in front of them.
Some think it’s funny of course and I smile along with them. Their smile usually disappears with the first blow, sometimes the second. By the fourth or fifth it’s difficult to tell if they’ve ever smiled at all.
And only once have I defaced a victim’s gravestone with the words ‘beaten to death with a bull’s cock’.
Q is for Quartered
The anticipation seemed worse than the deed. After all, we no longer lived in the dark ages. A machine would separate me into four pieces to be cubed and displayed. It would do so too quickly for pain.
No, the waiting tormented me with thought of what would come. Already I lay in a pool of my stinking fear, its touch acrid against my skin. Why must they make me wait? Was the judgement insufficient for my crime?
The moment arrived and proved me wrong. So very wrong. My death lasted just a moment, but a moment of eternal agony.
R is for Requiem (Latin Version)
Dies iræ! dies illa
Solvet sæclum in favilla:
Teste David cum Sibylla!
Tuba, mirum spargens sonum
Per sepulchra regionum,
Coget omnes ante thronum.
Mors stupebit, et natura,
Cum resurget creatura,
Preces meæ non sunt dignæ:
Sed tu bonus fac benigne,
Ne perenni cremer igne.
Inter oves locum præsta,
Et ab hædis me sequestra,
Statuens in parte dextra.
Flammis acribus addictis:
Voca me cum benedictis.
Oro supplex et acclinis,
Cor contritum quasi cinis:
Gere curam mei finis.
Lacrimosa dies illa,
Qua resurget ex favilla
Iudicandus homo reus.
Huic ergo parce, Deus:
Pie Iesu Domine,
Dona eis requiem.
R is for Requiem (English Version)
Wrathful day and mourning!
Fulfilled prophets' warning,
Everything in ashes burning!
through sepulchers ringeth;
to throne bringeth.
Death, nature quaking,
all creation awaking,
iJudge’s answer making.
Worthless prayers sighing,
yet, grace complying,
rescue me from fires undying!
With favoured sheep place;
nor among goats abase;
but to thy side upraise.
While the wicked confounded,
doomed to flames unbounded
Summon saints surrounded.
I kneel, heart’s submission,
like ashes, my contrition;
help in my last condition.
Day of tears and mourning!
From earth returning
For judgment preparing;
God, mercy spare him!
Lord, all pitying, Jesus blest,
grant them eternal rest.
S is for Sheol
A land of grey and shadow greeted me upon my passing. Featureless, it stretched beyond my sight. The shadows drifted towards me and as they approached I saw that they were spirits and, like me, had once known the warmth and colour of life.
Their voices formed a wind which assailed my hearing. Some were strong, and still bitter from their death. Others little more than whispers, having faded over time.
I hadn’t believed believe in any god or afterlife. A lesson hard learned for now I would dwell in this formless existence until every shade within faded to nothing.
T is for Tiger
I didn’t expect to see a giant carnivorous cat when I walked into my front room.
Well you wouldn’t would you?
Its handsome fur gleamed in the light and the sight captivated me. It didn’t seem to mind so I walked in. It looked up as I entered and with orange eyes pondered my insignificance.
Strangely I felt no fear, not then. The puzzle of why such a magnificent beast waited for me occupied my thoughts. I’ve never been a cat person, but with a roar it let me know that it was a people cat.
Then I knew fear.
U is for Undying
It seemed a good deal at the time. In exchange for my soul I’d never die. A deal so good I believed that I’d tricked the Devil. After all - what use was my soul if I didn’t die?
He must be laughing now.
It was a rush at first. No matter what happened I’d walk away from it. Sure it hurt, but the pain was worth the rush.
But like any drug the rush soon faded and there would be no escape. Once entropy had its fill I’d witness the end of the universe.
And I would never die.
V is for Vastation
There are ways to restore purity to a sinner. You can absolve them of their wrongdoing, or in some cases drive out the evil spirits corrupting them. But what do you do when their wickedness is so ingrained in their soul that cleansing will not suffice?
Killing them would condemn their spirit to eternity without hope of salvation. And so it is with a heavy heart that I must do this. There will be pain, but it is the only way. I will bear the weight of your screams so that you can meet your end with a pure heart.
W is for Warrior
The morning frost is hard and cold beneath my feet. Across the valley the mist rises from the ground, becoming one with the breath of men and horses.
Voices cry their rage and fear into the sky and in answer the sky’s tears muddy the ground. The earth trembles from their charge. We lock our shields and brace against the weight of our foe.
The clash of steel and screams blend into a single song. The ground grows slick with blood. All too soon only I remain, yet I stand and fight until I can swing my axe no more.
X is for Xenomorph
They’re all dead. A simple recon mission they said. All but one of the soldiers died and he came back changed. We didn’t know that until the next day.
At breakfast the corporal’s face exploded and tendrils of flesh sprayed across the table. The doc reacted first and died first. The tentacles writhed with an alien sheen and the corporal lurched towards the pilot.
I ran. I locked myself in my quarters and watched on the cameras as the rest of the crew were slaughtered. There’s only me left and the door won’t last for long from the inhuman pounding.
Y is for Yog-Sothoth
Imagination called up the shocking form of fabulous Yog-Sothoth—only a congeries of iridescent globes, yet stupendous in its malign suggestiveness. He is both time and space, yet imprisoned beyond the universe mankind foolishly believes inviolate.
Despite his exile he sees all and knows all. Those that discover the secrets of the hidden attract his attention. Unfortunately for them the fortunes of Yog-Sothoth suffer a fate so dread the horror stretches beyond imagination. Still he is worshipped by many dark beings and under countless names. Even the children of Cthulhu locked beneath the sea revere the grandparent of their creator.
Z is for Zombie
My memories crumbled beneath the endless hunger. It didn’t happen immediately. Enough time passed for me to comprehend the monster I’d become. They say you always remember your first and that proved true. I still remember chewing through my wife’s face.
I wish that memory had vanished first.
That moment led to a greater horror. Then another. Followed by more until my memories flooded with blood and gore.
Locked in my decaying meat prison I feared the end of my faculties but also prayed to witness no more. Soon I will be no more and exist only for the hunger.