Well, I thought I would let everyone know how Fleshbag came to be. So here it is, Fleshbag, the Begining. Read it with the lights off
The night was thick with stink in the abandoned Tuberculosis center. The august heat still lingered even at 2:00am. Jerry and Tim
Climbed through the old rusted chain link fence meant to keep passersby out, and rotten filth in. Hardly what you would call our brightest youth.
“C’mon Jer, we don’t have long. That old crabass will be around this way soon.”
That old crabass was Mr. Salister. He was the caretaker of the place. An old man haggard from to much drink and smoke, he hobbled around this place
once every 3 hours after sundown to keep the kids out. His favorite tool was a 20 gage shotgun with rock salt shells. He was a vindictive bastard, and
he enjoyed it.
“Dammit! My shirts caught on the fence Tim! Get over here and help me.”
Tim stopped and looked back to see Jerry struggling with the shirt and the fence. He stood there watching for a minute as he light his camel. Tim
inhaled deeply, then slowly blew out his smoke. It lingered in the air like a ghost in the moonlight.
After half a minute of struggling with the fence, Jerry’s shirt gave way. As his shirt ripped, he swung around to grab the fence to keep from
falling. His hand shot forth, but his aim was slightly off. The jagged rusty whole in the chain link fence ripped through the flesh of his palm and
wrist like a scalpel. Tim saw it all like it was in slow motion…It made him smile.
“Thanks for the help fag.” Jerry said as he picked himself up.
“Wrap you wounds Jer, we have work to do.” Then Tim turned and walked towards the busted glass window at he back of the huge decrepit place. Jerry
wrapped his hand and wrist with the tatters of his shirt. In the moonlight it was hard to see the trail of blood he was leaving behind as he walked to
follow Tim to their destination.
Tim stepped into the building through the shards of glass in the broken atrium window. Tim flipped on his flash light and shone it slowly across the
room. No ceiling tiles left anymore. Chairs broken and papers strewn about. On either side of the receptionist desk was a doorway minus the door.
C’mon Jer, this way.” Tim walked through the left doorway. Jerry followed like an obedient puppy being led to the gas chamber. His blood still
dripping through the bandages on his hand and wrist.
The corridor was black except for the circle of light from Tim’s flash light. Everywhere the light touched, it reveled evidence of vandalism and age.
Everything was broken and in disarray. Lights dangled from exposed wiring. Drywall gouged with huge holes reveling the metal studded ribs of the
wall. The floor was strewn with objects that had long since lost there original resting place. It was no wonder this place had been condemned.
As they wondered through the halls of the creepy old hospital, Jerry found himself getting lightheaded from the loss of blood. He knew he needed to
get his wounds taken care of. The rips in his flesh ran deep. Jerry tumbled, then regained his footing and continued to follow Tim as they made their
way through the corridors. He couldn’t let his hero down. Jerry would not give up, no matter what.
After what seemed like hours to Jerry, Tim stopped in his tracks.
“This is it Jerry. Unpack, and lets get set up.” Tim pulled a book out of his black LL bean back pack. As the flashlight glanced across the cover,
Jerry caught a glimpse of the title. It read Occult book of the Dead. He shivered as he recalled some of the illustrations contained within the book.
Skinless skulls, decaying organs, apparel made of human skin and flesh.
Jerry looked away from the book and began to unpack his pack roll.
First he pulled out the plastic sheet. When he got the floor cleared off in the small padded room, there was just enough space for the 10’ by 10’
plastic cover. Next, he pulled out the gallon jug with Tim’s own concoction mixed within. Jerry placed it to the side. Next came out the 12’, small
link chain with a pair of shackles on one end. They would be perfect for suspension in the steel eyelet in the ceiling above. Then last came the small
box. It was about 10 inches long by 4 inches tall by four inches wide. Tim never would let Jerry see what was in it.
After everything was ready, Jerry turned to let Tim know all was done. Jerry felt a hard thump on his head. As the blackness overtook him, he heard
another thump that sounded like a hammer hitting watermelon.
Tim stood over Jerry with the blackjack in his right hand. Looking down with a sneer he said. “Sorry Jer. I didn’t want it to be you, but you are the
perfect candidate for my experiment. Your naive, weak willed, and you will definitely not be missed. Tim dropped the lead weighted weapon where he
stood. Bending over, he fastened Jerry’s hands in the shackles. Afterwards, he strung the chain through the eyelet in the ceiling with a chair from
the hallway. He pulled the chain downward until Jerry’s body was hoisted in the air. His toes hovered just inches from the ground.
Tim walked to the corner of the room and picked up the book, the box, and the gallon jug, then walked to Jerry and sat the items down around his
feet. Tim reached into his pockets and produced a small glass tub of smelling salts. He raised it under Jerry’s nose and broke it open. The ammonia
was over whelming to the unconscious Jerry. His head jerked back in recourse to the stench at his nose. The throbbing pain from the side of his head
was unbearable. He could barley focus his eyes on Tim as his head rolled forward.
“Jerry, I wanted you to be awake for this. You have always been a friendly sidekick to me. After tonight, you will be so much more…..” He trailed off
in a whisper. Jerry nodded on and off through conscious.
Tim grabbed the box and opened it reverently. He slowly pulled out a ruby encrusted dagger. The handle formed a serpent with 4 fangs. The eyes at the
hilt were small blood red ruby’s. The blade had inscriptions whos meaning was lost in time.
Tim grasped the dagger and started to cut all the clothes from his hanging slab of meat. As his cloths fell off, Tim could see that Jerry really did
like his Twinkies. Tim guessed he was about 50 pounds overweight.
Tim thought to himself ‘this will be perfect’.
The dagger pierced Jerry’s skin at the top of his belly. The blade slowly lipped in at a downward angle so as not to damage any organs. Tim just
needed an orifice to Jerry’s abdomen. The blood ran down Jerry’s body and splattered on the plastic underneath forming a growing pool.
Tim reached down and grabbed the last thing out of his pack. A funnel with an 8 inch spout. Tim inserted the funnel in the opening in jerry;s belly.
Slowly, he slide the spout down. Just when Tim let go, Jerry came alive, screaming in pain, and thrashing about like he was being electrocuted.
“Jerry Jerry Jerry….You MUST be still, or I will have to reinsert the funnel. Do you want that again?” All Jerry could do was whimper in agony.
Tim grabbed his jug and slowly opened the top. The smell of hydrochloric acid, and many other things wafted to his nose. ”Better than roses” he
thought to himself.
In one hand he held his book. In the other, the jug. He approached Jerry slowly and began to read his incantation. Jerry’s eyes rolled up in his
skull showing only his yellowish whites. Tim stepped forward and emptied the entire contents into Jerry’s belly. Jerry howled with agony and terror.
He felt like his insides were being scrambled. The burning smell floated to Jerry’s nose and he began to cry in terror.
“NO TIM NO! YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME! I CANT BE FLESHBAG! I CANT!! NOOOOO!”
Tim just smiled. “Relax Jerry. I know there is intense pain, and a fear you have never known before. When this is done, you will belong to me. You
will be mine to command, and you will feed when I tell you to feed.”
Jerry began foaming at the mouth. His face distorted, almost like it was melting from within. His jelly belly started to look like saran wrap over
boiling water. Jerry’s fingernails began popping off his fingers one at a time. His arms were bending in places they shouldn’t be bending.
Finally, the movement stopped. Fleshbag was complete. Tim had finished his greatest accomplishment in his life. He now had his own monster. Fleshbags
arms were more tentacles with fatty appendages where the fingers use to be. The head was nothing more than a blob of flesh and fangs. The fleshy body
oozed a puss that had the stench of 1000 dead on a hot day. Tim thought next time he would see if he could do something about the stench.
Tim picked up his flashlight and walked toward the hanging mass. Less than a foot away, he studied the bulbous mass that was its head. A fleshy flap
opened to expose a hollow eye. With a strong yank on the chain, Flesh bag broke free of his bonds.
The Mass of flesh wrapped its tentical arms around Tim and squeezed. Tim felt the pressure build from within his body. Firsst he felt
his ears pop, then the crack of his spine splintering, just before Fleshbag dropped him. Tims right eye went black, and he felt something pop out of
his eyesocket abd land on his cheek.
The last thing Tim saw with his good left eye, was his own blood being splattered on his flashlight……..
And so begins the Saga of Fleshbag.
[edit on 10/26/04 by Kidfinger]
[edit on 10/26/04 by Kidfinger]