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Immortui By Valentinedavis21

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Trouble’s coming, the dead girl said, interrupting his thoughts. He looked over, wanting to ask what she had meant but she was gone.  

    He recognized the two boys immediately: Sam Warner and Dennis O’Hare. They were the two most famous boys in town-and the meanest. Dennis O’Hara was tall with broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms. He was a big hit amongst the dewy-eyed senior girls.  Sam Warner was black, shorter and more stocky.

  They were coming his way, the echoes of their laughter shattering the silence. Whatever danger the dead girl had seen in them the boy could not yet see. They were laughing, maybe at a joke.  They were  far away enough that he could not hear what they were saying. Then Sam looked up and saw him sitting in the swing. Sam couldn’t see the dead girl sitting next to him. All he saw was the queer, the freak, the devil’s spawn sitting all by himself.

  You should leave, the dead girl said. Now.

  “No,” he said, in a moment of stubbornness. “I was here first.“

  As they neared him, the boy could feel what the other boys were feeling: their disgust and hatred towards him, their cruelty. They were dangerous. He could feel it. But he wasn’t scared. He would stand his ground even if it meant suffering.

  “Hey, fag,” Dennis taunted

  The boy looked at him, expression deadpan. He didn’t say anything.

  “Wanna suck my dick?” Sam asked. They laughed, socking each other in the arm. To them this was all fun and games.

  “Fuck you,” the boy said. “Leave me alone.”

  “Tough guy, huh?” Dennis said. They were towering over him now like two giants. “ You with your stupid little fucking mind tricks and spells. We’ll see what a tough little fudgepacker you are when we’re done stomping your scrawny little ass into the ground.”

  “You touch me and I’ll tell my mom,” he said in a feeble attempt to scare them off. “She’ll make you regret it.”


Dennis and Steve rushed forward simultaneously and grabbed his arms. They hauled him off the swing and threw him to the ground like a sack potatoes. Before he even had time to feel shocked they were on him, punching and kicking. Their fists were like iron, their feet like hammers. There was no end to the pain being inflicted on his body. He couldn’t even curl up into a fetal ball.

    Their laughter and jeers filled his ears. Surely they didn’t mean to kill him. He was much smaller than they were and it was broad daylight. But they just kept kicking and stomping. His stomach felt as if it had folded into itself, his bones shattering. He tried to shield himself but couldn’t move his arms. He was defenseless. With each kick the certainty that they meant to kill him grew.

 The dead girl had tried to warn him and because of his pride he hadn’t listened.

  Then suddenly, mercifully, they stopped. It was over. He managed to roll on his back, looking at the reddening sky through a hazy screen of agony. He thought he heard the rumble of thunder. The colossal thunder cloud was now directly overhead. He wished that it would rain. He yearned for it, yearned to feel the fat rain drops splatter against his skin and wash the blood away. Lane felt a large wad of spit splatter across his face. Blood was seeping out of his nose; his lower lip had been split in two. It was in his mouth, trickling down his throat, filling his mouth with the taste of copper. More blood trickled into his eyes, covering the world in a red membrane. Lane felt shattered inside, every bone turned into sand. It was impossible move. He held his breath, trying to keep from crying,

   Suddenly he could feel the darkness rising inside of him, trying to take over. You aren’t just going to lay on the ground  like that are you? it said. Get up and make them pay. Don’t just let them get away with it.

   The darkness gave him a power and strength that he couldn’t use on his own. Right now he wanted to use that power to punish the two high schoolers for what they had done to him. He blinked and his eyes were no longer dark blue but pitch black, pupiless. The darkness had taken over.

   He rose to his feet. Droplets of blood fell from his nose and splattered across his T-shirt. “Hey!” he said.

  The two high schoolers turned around to his face him.

 “Oh you want more you little fucker?” Sam snarled. Both boys were starting towards him again, closing in, preparing to inflict more damage. They did not know that something was wrong until it was too late.

  They both dropped into the grass, writhing in agony. Invisible hands and teeth tore at their flesh, tearing at flesh and muscle, devouring them. They clawed at thin air though in their heads they were trying to fend off the Immortui which surrounded them, creatures with grey, decayed flesh, and blank white gaping eyes, things that had a hunger that could never be sated. The pain that they were feeling was unlike anything that they had ever before. It was worse than death. Death for them would have been a simple mercy.

  This wasn’t really happening. It was a projection that the boy had created, a very realistic illusion although to Sam and Dennis it might as well be real. And the darkness had given him the ability to create it with just a simple thought, with his will. And he could do worse. So much worse. He could rip them apart slowly. He could set them on fire and watch them burn, flay them with his thoughts. But he liked this better. Torturing them. Watching them squirm as they’d made him do. He could watch it all night.

  He could watch it for forever. It filled him with a boundless joy, to listen to the sounds of their screams. They sounded like helpless girls. They were pitiful, worthless creatures.

  He laughed.

  “Stop!” Dennis screamed, writhing and clawing and kicking at thin air. “Please make it stop!”

  The boy’s black eyes glittered; he smiled menacingly. “I should rip you two apart.” In that moment he didn’t sound like a twelve-year-old boy. He sounded older, much older. Centuries and centuries.  “Or I could flay you alive. It’s what you two filthy sack of swines deserve. Instead you’re going to die in your sleep tonight just when you think you’ll have years left to live. You’ll fall asleep and you won’t wake up. Now go while you still can.”  

  He made it stop.

  The two older boys shot to their feet glancing around, trying to find their attackers. Then there eyes met his. Dennis wet himself, a puddle stain of urine spreading across the front of his jeans. Then he and Sam were running as fast as they could away from the boy, until their figures disappeared from view.

  Just as the thunder lit up the sky and the rain started to fall in an unforgiving torrent, the boy pointed his head up at the sky and started to laugh.

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Sarah forced these memories out of her head. Just thinking about them filled her heart with a black aching pain. She could feel her eyes filling up with tears. I won’t cry! she told herself vehemently. I won’t! There’s nothing to cry about! The dishes were done. She put them in the drainer and wrung out the rag before folding it neatly over the counter. She felt a tear travel down her cheek towards the corner of her mouth. She dabbed at it with her tongue and tasted its salt. She sighed, trying to think of what other chores needed to be done when the abrupt smack of something hitting the window made her scream. Her heart hammered away in her chest. Sarah was frozen to the spot, unable to move or think.

   She searched for the thing that had crashed against the window but there was nothing in sight. There’s nothing out there, she thought. Nothing but snow and Mara. Mara’s out in the greenhouse tending to the plants, growing carrots and tomatoes and peas. Even though harvest season was over, Mara still grew vegetables out in the barn, which she called “the greenhouse.” She’d set up a UV light system and went out everyday to water them. Winters were always a tough time for them financially but Mara did the best she could by growing what she could.

   It was snowing now and hard. The snowflakes were fat. The wind let out a piercing wail making the window rattle.

   A face pressed up against the window making her start again. The face snarled at her, its lipless mouth peeling back in a rabid snarl to reveal the black rotting teeth. The eyes were rimmed with red, the pupils dilated. Sarah couldn’t help but think of her father holding her mother’s lifeless body in her arms. The way her head was craned towards Sarah.


  But this couldn’t be possible! There were fences set up all around the mountain to keep them out, to keep them from getting in the town. And since then the townspeople had been safe from the undead.

  And yet there it was before her, trying to get in through the window. Trying to get to her so that it could devour her.The outbreak had taken away the things that made it human, turning it into an efficient killing machine that didn’t know the meaning of emotions of physical pain.

    She didn’t know what to do. She had to find some way to warn Mara, to get her to stay in the greenhouse. Reacting more on reflex than logic, Sarah reached for the large butcher knife in the dish drainer. Just as her fingers wrapped around the black handle, the glass of the window shatter, cutting the top of her hand and wrists. The thing reached through the glass, grabbing her wrists and yanking her forward with a strength that no regular human being. Sarah opened her mouth to scream but the sound locked into her throat as she stared into the thing’s face. Most of the flesh and muscle had rotted away to show the white bone underneath while what few scraps of grisled flesh remained was a dark, charred grey. One eye was missing so that she was staring into an empty eye socket. There was a name for such a creature. Zombie. The undead. Various names that at one point only belonged in the movies or books. It was in such a state of decay that she could not tell the gender.

   Stab it in the head, stab it in the head! That’s the only way to kill it!

  The zombie’s teeth were drawing threateningly close to her face. She could smell the sweet, black smell of death coming off of it.

  Stab it in the head, stab it in the head-

  With a roar cry Sarah raised the butcher knife and brought it down on the zombie’s head. The blade stabbed through the softened interior of the skull right into the brain. The thing instantly went limp, dead. Sarah wasn’t dead yet, instinct, fear, and rage had taken over. She dragged the dead corpse through the window as snow billowed in all around her and let it fall to the floor. She raised the knife above her head and brought it down again and again, unaware that she was screaming. Again she could see her mother’s face, her lifeless body, could see her father sobbing and helpless, remembered how it had felt to watch her father die and not be able to help him. All of the rage and sadness that she’d repressed over the years came out in each stabbing motion and all she could see was black.

  When she felt a hand grab her wrist and stop the knife in midair she whirled around and lashed out with a snarl. Her fist connected with Mara’s face and Mara fell against the wall, letting out a grunt of both surprise and pain. Sarah dropped the knife and rushed over to her side. “Oh Mara, I’m so sorry. I thought-” The words died in her throat as she helped Mara to her feet. Mara stared at the corpse lying on the floor, eyes bulging out of her head.

  “Is that…? Is that…?” Mara uttered.

  “It is,” Sarah said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

  “That can’t be possible.” Mara’s voice came out as a harsh rasp.

  “I’m calling Angel,” Sarah said, starting for the living room. No sooner had she left the kitchen the front door crashed open and two of the undead came charging towards her...

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  • Site Administrator

What I think Valykrie meant was whether you would post it in our GA Stories archive...which you've done :)


Immortui by ValentineDavis21

:facepalm: I totally missed that!  Yes, that's exactly what I meant.  People usually post excerpts before they post a story, so I just assumed it hadn't been posted yet.  I will add it to my list to read!  

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Great! I'll have to check it :thumbup: It's always exciting to see new authors coming here


You might want to post status updates or even blog post for this kind of announcement/news though especially as I think there's already a thread for you story - it easier and more people might see it (especially with a status update :)

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Read and Reviewed both the Prologue and the first chapter. I can say they both are nice introductions to the main characters and the situations happening around. Up until now, a nice stop and I'll be waiting for the next chapters. And do as Clo(My Fairy Tail) said for getting the attention from more people.


Once again welcome to GA... :)

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He sat in the movie theatre and watched the girl open the big green box with a bright yellow bow. The room was dark and he was alone.

  The dead girl had shown it to him many times. He knew every line by heart, knew how it was going to end. It wasn’t like the other one she told him. The ones that scared him and made him want to cry,

   She was reaching for the box, her eyes bright and round as saucers. She was a lot happier in this one, not so silent, not so gloomy. In this one the man hadn’t killed her, the man with the ice cream van. Her parents sat next to her, watching, their faces split with big cartoonish grins. The girl ripped off the paper slowly, meticulously, wanting to savor this for this was the last gift. And while all of her other gifts had been good she knew-just knew-that this one was going to be the best.

  The box underneath the paper was white with pretty red bows patterned all over it. Closing her eyes she lifted the lid off, counted to three, opened one eye and then the other. She let out a cry of joy. Inside were the pretty red boots that she had wanted, wanted so badly. And she was so afraid that she would never get to have them. That she would have to wait until her birthday or maybe even until next Christmas and that was so far away.

  She threw her arms around both of her parents, crying tears of joy. Thank you,she sobbed happily. “Thank you so much.”

   Lane wanted to cry with her, share her tears of happiness with her, and most of the times he did.

   The dead were always showing him movies, movies of their lives. Happy memories and sad memories and some scary ones too. Of days when the world was different. It was better than being in the cell, in that dark dark world where day was the same as night and he had nothing to look forward to but pain and imprisonment. And the dead girl was his friend. His only friend.

  When the other spirits told their stories they left and never returned. But she always stayed. She was always there for him, even when his own mother had abandoned him.

  He thought of his mother:  His mother had been an interesting character to say the least. She alway had an air of composure, a dexterity as smooth and polished as a pane of glass. Her words were wise and measured, always thought out. She’d always told him the truth, never sugar coating it. She never told him stories of the Easter Bunny or Santa Clause. She explained that the world was a cruel place, even more so after the outbreak. Once differences were valued but now it was back to the old day. The people of this town fear our gifts, she said. They think that we are cursed. They do not understand that we were born with them, that they are just as a part of us as our arms. But she had also been loving, reading to him before he went to bed as a small child, comforting him when he was sad. She’d never spanked him, never raised his voice, never commented on the music he listened to or the eyeliner he wore, the skulls he drew on himself with black markers.

 She had been there when the cops had come to take him away. He remembered that day. Lane’d come home in a haze, knowing that something awful had happened but not what. And no matter how hard he tried to remember he couldn’t remember what. He knew that it had something to do with the two boys. They’d done something to him, why else would he be covered in blood, so much blood? But he’d done something worse. Much worse. Well not him. The darkness.

  And Coralina had known. When the cops had shown at her door step the day after it’d happened she had turned to him, afraid. What did you do? she’d asked. What did you do to those boys?

  I DON’T KNOW! he’d sobbed, burying his face in his hands. Scared, so scared. He shouldn’t have sobbed like that, just like a little child. Twelve year olds didn’t cry like that. His mom tried to stop the cops from taking him.


  But it didn’t matter. They took him anyway, dragged him out of the house like an animal. They threw him in the back of the cop car. The last glimpse he had of his mother was through the rearview window as the cop car pulled away. She had stood on the porch of the house, her face blotchy with tears. Never before had he seen her such emotion, such terror.

  When the officers tried to get him out of the car he fought brutally, kicking and screaming. He couldn’t move his arms because they were handcuffed behind his back. All he could use was his mouth and his feet. He kicked one in the groin and bit the others arm hard as he could. The guard screamed, trying to shake Lane off of him but Lane wouldn’t let go, not for nothing. “Get this little fucker off of me!” he howled. “He’s like a fucking dog!

  He could taste blood in his mouth. He was not aware of the other officer getting to his feet and pulling his baton out. The last thing Lane felt that day was the baton cracking against the back of his head and then nothing. When he came to Lane was strapped to a bed; the only thing he could move was his head and fingers. He was now a patient at the sanitarium in Annesville.

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Johnette Napolitano-Who's Holding You Now 

Johnette Napolitano-Scarred

In this Moment-Remember

In This Moment-Whore

The Used-Just a Little

Gravity Kills-Guilty

Gravity Kills-Here

Korn-Freak on a Leash

Korn-No Place to Hide

Marilyn Manson-Minuit of Decay

Marilyn Manson-The Devil Beneath My Feet

David Bowie-The Heart's Filthy Lesson

David Bowie-I'm Afraid of Americans

Fear Factory-Final Exit

Sigur Ros-Hjartað Hamast

Guns and Roses-Better

Nazareth-Love Hurts

Undercover Slut-Bipolar Disorder

Undercover Slut-Creature Feature

Class Actress-More Than You



Bile-The Lowest Form

Bile-In My Eyes


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He started in the direction of the stairs, unaware of Angel and Sarah’s presence. It was as if he was sleepwalking. Angel and Sarah followed, keeping a cautious distance away. He reached the bottom of the stairs and stood in the doorway and continued to speak. “She made it as far as the front door and that’s when they showed up.” When he said they his face darkened, his mouth peeling back from his teeth in a grimace.

  “Who?” Angel asked. To his surprise the younger man turned around to look at them. Only he wasn’t really looking at them, more like through them.

  “The people from the town below the mountain. I couldn’t see their faces because they were wearing masks. They lured the Immortui into the town and that’s when the undead attacked the house. They killed the Immortui and took Mara through the hole that they had cut into the fence and buried the bodies in a pond in the woods.”

  “Can you show us where the bodies are?”

  Lane nodded and started to lead them towards the woods. Lane moved at a steady pace, trudging easily through the snow while Angel and Sarah struggled to keep up. Still Lane did not appear to be aware of their presence.

  Don’t think about it, she thought. That won’t help. Besides if something like that did happen Angel would take care of it. He’ll keep me safe.

  Can he? that evil whisper of doubt spoke up. Remember he’s only human…

  She could feel snow sliding down into her boots. Her socks were getting wet. She hated having wet socks, wet pant legs. She hated period.

 I wish winter was here. I wish Mara was here. I wish none of this had ever happened. And here she was feeling sorry for herself, being a wimp. Like that was going to help the situation at all. Like that was going to bring Mara back alive and well. It should have been her that was taken not Mara. Because if she had taken Mara would have found her, would have spent every minute of every day. She would be here in the woods not feeling sorry for herself.

  She was so lost in thought that she almost walked into Lane. She only sensed him out of reflex and had to step to the side to keep from colliding into him. She looked up and there was the pond, frozen over, the top snowed over like powdered sugar. She thought she remembered Mara saying that there was a pond here. Mara always liked to hike through the trails which went on for a couple of miles before reaching the twelve foot high fence. Beyond the fence was more forest and a road which led to the bottom of the mountain.

  “Here,” Lane said. “They’re here.”

  “Where?” she asked.

  “Underneath the ice.”

  And just when things couldn’t get any weirder, things did.

  Lane raised a hand, his palm outstretched towards the pond. His face was completely calm while Sarah and Angel watched, both half of afraid. What kind of magic was he conjuring up?

  The silence was split when multiple large cracks appeared on the ice. Pieces of it drifted apart like glaciers the water underneath so dark that it appeared black. The water was boiling, bubbles appearing everywhere. Even though Sarah knew that this wasn’t a dream, knew that she wasn’t insane, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. A glance at Angel showed that he was just as shocked, just as unbelieving.

  Shapes bobbed along the surface of the water. At first there was just one of them and then two and then five. Sarah wasn’t sure at what she was looking at. It took her a moment to realize that the shapes were oddly human shaped, the flesh almost just as dark as the water. Where there wasn’t flesh there was bone and muscle, parts of rib and hip bone and there were large stones chained to ankles.

  And none of them had heads.


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  • 1 month later...

Lane and the dead girl followed the corridor all of the way down. The inside of the cave was an endless maze of corridors giving him the sickening feeling of deja vu. Just a few months ago he’d had to go through a maze much like this-the turburculosis hospital right underneath of Castro’s asylum.

  An ominous mist filled the passage, making it hard to see. Luckily the torch helped cut through the mist a little-but not much. He grew more and more grateful for the dead girl’s presence. She was always with him, always looking out for him. A sudden, terrible smell came to him: the smell of rotting flesh and hydrofloric acid and blood and dirt, all mingled together so that it was almost impossible to tell them apart. He stopped, holding his breath and breathing through his mouth. But the smell was so strong that he could even taste it on his tougue. It turned his stomach.

  “What is that smell?” he said, more to himself than to the dead girl.

  “There are evil things in this cave,” she replied. “I think it’s trying to trick you.”

  “Yes,” a voice whispered in the mist, in Lane’s ear so that he could smell its cold rotten breath. It was a voice coming from a throat that was clogged with dirt (or ash), a voice that had spent an eternity buried underneath the earth. “Many evil things. Many dead evil things...

   Forcing down a scream, Lane whirled around, the fire making a whooshing sound. He had his rifle at the ready, ready to fire at whatever monstrosity was behind him...but there was nothing. Nothing but mist and darkness. He stared, wide-eyed, his breath coming out in ragged pants.

   “Let’s go,” the dead girl said.

   Lane didn’t hear her.

 Another voice began to sing, a female’s voice: “We rip and rend and rape and shit and squalorrrrr...”   

    Coralina’s voice: “My son...the Antichrist...the child of the devil. I don’t know why I waited to bring into this world. I SHOULD OF HAD AN ABORTION! I SHOULD HAVE CUT YOU OUT OF MY BELLY WITH A PAIR OF SCISSORS!

   “Lane, don’t listen to them!” The dead girl tugged at his arm, trying to pry him from his petrified state. “They’re trying to trick you!”

    Still, Lane did not hear her. His face had become more pale than ever; his mouth hung open stupidly. This can’t be possible, he thought. He had just heard his mother’s voice. My mother can’t be here. Her spirit is trapped in the house as punishment for taking her own life...She can’t be here.


   “No,” Lane moaned. That wasn’t her. It sounded like Coralina exactly but it didn’t speak in the same way that she did.

   Now multiple voices began to sing and in them he heard Angel, Sarah, Mara, and Moira’s voice: “We rip and rend and rape and shit and squalorrrrr...

   Lane’s fear turned into rage. “Fuck you!” he screamed. “I know you aren’t them! I know they’re not really here! You can’t trick me, I won’t fall for it! So why don’t you just shut the fuck up, because you’re wasting your breath!

   The voices immediately fell silent. His ears rang and his throat ached; both of his hands were cold. Almost like liquid the mist seemed to drain out of the passage, receding into nonexistence and so did the merged smells of rotting flesh and hydrofloric acid and blood and dirt. Lane did not celebrate this triumph for he knew that it was a small battle. He now knew that there were more battles up ahead and they would be harder to win.

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  • 2 weeks later...
  • Site Moderator

I just had a thought as to why Lane's friends had to killed in his vision. Whoever is behind all this not only wants to hurt Lane but, and maybe more importantly, weaken him. Harder to fight when you're down isn't it? Then again, it could also be the act that gives him the edge that leads him to victory. 


While I am quite sure that this vision will not come to pass, the very thought of it could be the catalyst to awakening an insurmountable strength within Lane. Bad guy, I think you best cut your losses and leave town now...just saying. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

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