Amy Speaking [BMHWC]

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posted on Oct, 21 2012 @ 07:13 PM
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First things first. My name is Amy and I’m nineteen (I’ll be twenty at the end of the month). I know people always say this, but I am a long time lurker. Well, maybe not a long time, but it’s been a few months since I was first shown the site, and I’ve been busy reading and digging ever since. I’m still not quite sure about signing up, so Chris is letting me use his account to post this. He’s a very good friend of mine and I just hope he doesn’t read this, he doesn’t know what I’m writing and I’m sure he wouldn’t approve. But I have to tell you my story.

That story begins last Christmas, not long after I started browsing here. It was a snowless Christmas that actually felt more like Spring. I remember because I spent a lot of the day outside after a morning with my brother and my parents. I’ve always liked going for walks down a gravel road not far from my house. It’s a quiet spot where I can think and be alone. I appreciate the times when I can be alone. This time, while I was walking, I had more to think about. I had only recently become awake to all that’s truly going on around me, and I took the time to really process it and decide on which side I wanted to be. I figured there was no better time to do this kind of thinking than at the end of the year, to start fresh in the coming year, especially if the coming year could be my last. I was never sure how I felt about all the 2012 theories. The whole mythology just felt too all over the place to be true at all. But I decided I would prepare anyway, just in case. I started doing things like reading up on economics and politics, and paying more attention to how the media uses all kinds of propaganda to control how we think and act. I decided that if nothing happened then at least I’d be ahead of the game. It didn’t take long before I started picking up on the most subliminal tactics. With it being Christmas, the tactics only got more frequent. So I went for a walk to get it all sorted out in my mind, and to get away from it for a bit.

I first felt like I was being followed when I heard something that sounded like the crunch of gravel not far being me. I turned around, but I couldn’t see anything. The path goes deep into the woods, and there are plenty of animals around, so I didn’t think much of it at first. I kept walking for a few more minutes, until I heard it again. This time it seemed closer, but I still didn’t see anything. At that point, I was too nervous to keep going, so I started heading back. I was about fifteen minutes from the main road. Whatever was following me sounded too heavy to be a small animal. I figured it must either be a deer or a person. We don’t have bears in the area, and anything smaller wouldn’t have been so loud.

I made it back home without hearing anything else, but I still sensed I was being followed. I couldn’t shake it. Whatever it was seemed to always be just a few steps behind me. It was still on my mind that night when I went to bed. It took me a while to get to sleep, but when I did all I did was dream about strange things before waking up in the middle of it, just to fall back to sleep and dream more strange things. All night, this went on. I don’t remember many details of the dreams very clearly, just some general aspects of the last one. I do remember seeing children doing backflips from old cars, and they kept hitting their heads on the windshields and cutting the tops of their heads off. I remember the slices of skull and flesh lying on the hoods of the cars, and the kids would pick them up and put them back on and continue on as if nothing had happened. One of the kids looked at me, I remember his face quite clearly, and he vomited what looked like creamed corn. I had no idea what to make of it, so I did some research into dream meanings. Ultimately, I came to the conclusion that the dream was trying to show me the indifference and pretense that surrounds me. People act like children, mindlessly doing their tricks for a junk system while vomiting lies and hypocrisy. With that, the state of the world became even more impressed on me.

This brings me to June, almost exactly four months ago. I usually don’t buy groceries locally in the village, but I just happened to need milk and I couldn’t get to town for a couple days. It was a beautiful day, so I decided to walk to the store. It’s about a half-hour walk from my house along the main road, but I can halve that by cutting straight through a bit of a wooded area behind some unoccupied homes. By this time, I had all but forgotten about my earlier Christmas encounter. So I started through the woods without a second thought. This wooded area is pillared with the most magnificent golden aspen trees. It’s the only spot for miles that has them, and they stand out among the pines, which we have plenty of. It was so beautiful that it almost made the inconvenient trip to the store worth it. I was busy looking up when something shadowy moved off to my left.

I had no time to react as something from my right threw its entire weight into me, knocking me to the ground. For a moment, I gasped for air. Then I rolled over onto by back to look up at what had hit me. My eyes weren’t even given a chance to focus. I was hauled up by my arms and forced to stand, though my balance was unsteady. I would have tried running away had it not been for the hands holding me in place. I would have tried screaming had my lungs contained enough air to do so. I could do nothing but stand there, and I had a hard enough time doing that. It took a minute, but my eyes finally managed to focus. I saw the face looking back at me. It was a face I knew. I looked over my shoulder. The face behind me was also one I was familiar with. The one in front belonged to Will, a former classmate of mine. The other belonged to a friend of his named Frankie. Both have been bullies for as long as I’ve known them. In the year since I graduated, that obviously hadn’t changed. I didn’t say a word. I jerked myself out of Frankie’s hands continued walking. They followed.

What happened next, I wouldn’t have believed had I not been there to see it for myself. As I was walking, I heard their footsteps behind me, keeping at a constant distance. After a few feet, they stopped. Just like that. No trailing off, no nothing. They just stopped. I turned. There was no one there. I stood there, confused, for what must have been a minute or two. The trees stood tall around me. There was no wind to speak of. The only sound was a dog barking somewhere in the village. My confusion gave way to awkward anxiety. Something was wrong, I could feel it. From the trees, my fear was realized. Not from behind any tree, but from above. It was large and red, and it landed with a thud at my feet. I stumbled back. There was blood on my shoes. Blood covered the ground. In the middle of it all, a blood-soaked jacket. Will’s jacket. I screamed and nearly fell. I’ve never screamed before, for any reason. I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to run, but not a muscle in my body would move. I was still screaming when something else landed in front of me. Something apparently human, yet it seemed so inhuman. It looked like Frankie. It didn’t smell or sound like him. A stench of rot. A sputtering growl. And his face. His face looked dead. Hollow. And I kept screaming.

continued...




posted on Oct, 21 2012 @ 07:16 PM
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Another growl, and I could finally move. I jumped back just as he lunged at me, teeth bared and eyes wide. With all the strength I could manage, I drove my foot into his gut and ran. Not once did I stop. Not once did I look back. I just ran. I don’t know if Frankie followed me or not. By the time I got clear of the woods, he was nowhere to be seen. I told a couple people what happened, but the blood on my shoes looked like mud by the time I got out, no trace of the jacket was found, and Will and Frankie denied being in the woods that day. No one believed me. It didn’t surprise me, I wouldn’t have believed me either.

But I know what happened. The more I thought about that day, the more I became overwhelmed with certain conspiracy topics on a certain conspiracy site. And the more I became overwhelmed with these topics, the more I thought about that day. I read and researched, researched and read. For days at a time, I would get very little sleep, if I got any at all. Finally, three weeks ago, I reached a critical point in my journey. Everything seemed to fall into place. My dreams, my views of the world, my research, my experiences in the woods, it all became so obvious and intertwined. This is when it also became clear to me what I had to do. It was an epiphany. An enlightenment. Like crossing a line from a land of confusion to a place where all questions are answered and everything makes sense. A higher plane. Like rising from a deep sleep. Like the day you stop burning ants with a magnifying glass and begin boiling kittens in a microwave. Such a marvelous illumination.

Two nights ago, while my parents were asleep, I dug out my high school backpack. I packed everything I thought I might need. Several screwdrivers, a can of my father’s spray deodorant, a lighter, a change of clothes, a belt. Whatever was in the house. When the backpack was full, I snuck out. I had hoped to find Frankie at home, but there was no one there. It took me almost an hour to find him. He and a handful of friends were hanging at the gated entrance to the picnic park. Being somewhat secluded, it was always a popular tripping spot. By the hollering and the roughhousing I saw as I neared, I could tell their fun had already started. I wasted no time. I stood maybe twenty feet away and called out Frankie’s name. They all stopped and looked my way. Frankie was to the left. His face shone orange in the overhead streetlight. One of the others called back for me to join them. Briefly, I pretended to do so. The guy who had called me over came towards me as I got closer. My time had finally come.

In as quick a movement as my hand could make, I sunk a Phillips into the guy’s throat. His warm blood sprayed my arm. I removed the screwdriver, and he gasped. Blood bubbled from his mouth and nose. Shocked faces filled my peripheral vision as the guy dropped to his knees. He was looking up at me. His pupils were dilated. His breathing was a sputter. He mouthed words that I couldn’t hear. And then he fell back onto the pavement. I readied myself and stood my ground. One guy fled. The rest came at me. Their faces changed. The faces of seventeen and eighteen-year-olds gave way to the most hideous distortions. Black eyes shadowed in red. Bent jawlines and sunken foreheads. Their faces were alien. Not extraterrestrial, but alien just the same. These are the ones who permeate our lives unseen. For thousands of years, they have perfected their disguise. Gaining control in every aspect of this world, they have overcome all resistance. Until now.

I threw off my backpack, pocketed the screwdriver, and grabbed the belt. The buckle cracked against the head of the lead attacker. I swung the backpack in my other hand, hitting the next in line. A second crack of the belt from the other side sent the first to the ground. There were three more behind, including Frankie. They stopped no more than three feet in front of me, dodging to either side as I readied the belt. I made the first move. I dropped the backpack and lunged forward, wrapping the belt around the neck of the crazed form on my right. He kicked and growled as I dragged him back, holding him between me and the others. Three times, I circled his neck with the belt, then buckled it as tight as I could get it. I knelt and dug for the lighter and spray can. Seizing the opportunity, Frankie pulled the body from my hands and threw him aside. I held up the spray can, with the lighter in front of the nozzle. He moved from size to side, trying to avoid it. Anticipating his movements, I thumbed the button on the can and lit the flame.

continued...



posted on Oct, 21 2012 @ 07:16 PM
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It ignited in a brilliant shower of fire, engulfing Frankie’s face. He cried out and stumbled backward. I followed. His alien face seared and blackened. For an instant, I was blinded by the beauty of his melting flesh. That was my weakness. I felt the hit, but I didn’t see it coming. The lighter and spray can dropped to the ground. A boney hand wrapped itself around my throat. I couldn’t even gasp for air. Nothing got through. I felt my own weight becoming too much for me to bear, and I slumped to the ground. The hand followed, keeping its grasp. The world faded around me. All I could see was am in front of my face. Everything else was blurred and grainy. I could feel my consciousness slipping. Even the sound of Frankie’s agonized screams sounded distant. I thought it was over. I thought I had failed.

It was only luck that I had fallen by my backpack. It was also luck that, somehow, my hand found its way inside. I don’t remember how. I just remember feeling the assortment of screwdrivers I had packed. One felt wet. I grabbed it. With nothing but the arm in my sight, I did my best to aim and swung the screwdriver toward it. Once again, luck came through. The arm wrenched itself away, and my head drove into the pavement. There wasn’t time to recover my senses. I threw myself to my knees and swung again, this time plunging the screwdriver into what looked like a leg. There was a cry of pain and the form collapsed in front of me. I climbed over it and kept stabbing, again and again, until my sight returned. The first thing to see was the blood. It was everywhere. I had ripped open his gut. Bits of flesh were everywhere. Finally, I forced myself to stop. He was dead. I looked around. Only Frankie was still alive. Barely. One solid hit to the temple remedied that. Their faces were back to normal (what was left of them). I recognized them all from school. Had I not seen them for what they really were, I would probably feel guilty. But I did what had to be done.

I stayed in last night. Cops were everywhere, searching, interviewing. I did my best to cover my tracks. They’re calling it a gruesome murder, but I know better. It was a necessary evil, for the good of the world. And it was just the beginning. This is my story, and it continues tonight. I’m heading out again. It’s dangerous, but there is a lot for me to do in two months. Wish me luck. And if you don’t hear from me again, I just want to say thank you, ATS, for all you’ve done. I wouldn’t be who I am without you.



posted on Oct, 21 2012 @ 10:21 PM
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Well written! SnF.

You had an interesting premise to your story, a person using your account to tell a story, and that made it creepy and interesting. I was hooked on every word.

Instead of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, it's Amy the Alien Slayer. It's stories like this that make these writing contests so much fun.

Unfortunately, ATS can be cruel at times. This story should be in the top three, but you are nowhere close in the running. A shame, that is.



posted on Oct, 22 2012 @ 08:43 AM
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reply to post by CLPrime
 


Cool, you finally made it! I am going to save and read it offline now, I'll come back when I'm done reading it.



posted on Oct, 22 2012 @ 11:01 AM
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Originally posted by Druid42

Unfortunately, ATS can be cruel at times. This story should be in the top three, but you are nowhere close in the running. A shame, that is.


Well see. Though, I must say, Amy's been working so hard to save you all from alien doom. A vote for me (ah...her) is a vote against the apocalypse...or a vote for a homicidal paranoid schizophrenic... however you wanna look at it.
edit on 22-10-2012 by CLPrime because: (no reason given)



posted on Oct, 24 2012 @ 04:13 AM
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reply to post by CLPrime
 

Er... Dear Amy, I just want to warn you that

1: you slightly misinterpreted the use of a screwdriver - you're supposed to drive screws, not drive it into screwed people

2: the staff might ban you for, er, your life's unorthodox conduct description in very eloquent terms

3: and last but not the least... I don't want to ruffle your feathers, but I think Chris might possibly stumble upon your post when he'll browse in his profile or subscriptions. Even if he doesn't, he might get clues about it when his number of stars will soar unexpectedly or when someone's gonna ask him if "Amy kicked some alien behinds today".

That was truly great, mate! I liked the fact you portrayed your character as an ATS member, it added alot of realism. It's my favorite story you made so far. It was full of description, just the right balance between unecessary and necessary details (a balance which is often screwed up by other popular authors), and of course, as usual, you added that twist of yours, (I like to call it the Prime Twist, as I never saw that much precision in other authors), and it is so precise, so unexpected, I can tell the exact sentence in which I started feeling the creepy side of the story:


Like the day you stop burning ants with a magnifying glass and begin boiling kittens in a microwave.


That was the point where I realized Amy wasn't just an innocent girl anymore, but, instead, some solid, disturbed, hardened and focused woman... which was confirmed by the story which followed.

Really great job, Chris!, definitively triple star & flag!



posted on Oct, 24 2012 @ 09:59 AM
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reply to post by swan001
 


Merci


I promised Amy I wouldn't read her story, but I will pass on your suggestions. Though, I must admit, they do make me a little suspicious...but a promise is a promise.

A disclaimer: I have neither burned ants with a magnifying glass nor boiled kittens in a microwave. I'm not even sure if a kitten would boil in a microwave, it was just an educated guess. I was going to Google it, but I decided not to... not because of what I might find, but because of what sort of disturbed individuals list I might end up on (if I'm not on one already).

And speaking of stars...I find it interesting that my OP has 6 stars but the thread only has 5 flags. Someone S'ed but didn't F. Not that it matters, I still need 10 flags to win.
edit on 24-10-2012 by CLPrime because: (no reason given)



posted on Oct, 24 2012 @ 11:37 AM
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Originally posted by CLPrime
reply to post by swan001
 


Merci


I promised Amy I wouldn't read her story, but I will pass on your suggestions. Though, I must admit, they do make me a little suspicious...but a promise is a promise.

A disclaimer: I have neither burned ants with a magnifying glass nor boiled kittens in a microwave. I'm not even sure if a kitten would boil in a microwave, it was just an educated guess. I was going to Google it, but I decided not to... not because of what I might find, but because of what sort of disturbed individuals list I might end up on (if I'm not on one already).


Bienvenue


I can't burn ants. I love insects, even if ants only have 1 neurone per insect...

I'm sure anything which have water will boil, But I don't want to check neither.


And speaking of stars...I find it interesting that my OP has 6 stars but the thread only has 5 flags. Someone S'ed but didn't F. Not that it matters, I still need 10 flags to win.
edit on 24-10-2012 by CLPrime because: (no reason given)


lol, don't look at me, my mouse clicks can't yield SuperFlags!

So 10 flags is what you need... Thanks for the info.
edit on 24-10-2012 by swan001 because: (no reason given)



posted on Oct, 24 2012 @ 02:55 PM
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Originally posted by swan001

I'm sure anything which have water will boil


That's what I was thinking.



So 10 flags is what you need


10 flags more than what I already have. Last I checked, the story in the lead had 16 flags.
Technically, it's the 3 most-flagged stories that win, but it's still a long way to 3rd place.
edit on 24-10-2012 by CLPrime because: (no reason given)



posted on Oct, 25 2012 @ 09:45 AM
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reply to post by CLPrime
 


16... That's big. For now you're at 8.



posted on Oct, 25 2012 @ 06:34 PM
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Do you think you'll write a sequel?



posted on Oct, 25 2012 @ 06:52 PM
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reply to post by swan001
 


I don't know. I was thinking about it, but coming up with a sequel for this is like coming up with a sequel to Cloverfield. It really should stand alone, but I will write a sequel if I can come up with a good idea for it.

By the way, I've been meaning to mention this, just as an FYI: the dream that Amy says she had...it was an actual dream that I had the night before I wrote that. It was just campy enough to add.
edit on 25-10-2012 by CLPrime because: (no reason given)



posted on Oct, 26 2012 @ 04:15 AM
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reply to post by CLPrime
 


Yeah... I inspired myself from a dream I had too when I wrote my story.



posted on Oct, 26 2012 @ 12:53 PM
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reply to post by CLPrime
 


5 days to go, and You're still at 8.



posted on Oct, 31 2012 @ 02:44 PM
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It's Hallowe'en, so I thought I might give Amy one last shot at her 15 minutes of infamy.





 
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