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2020.07.25 19:21 25Julenergetic Lesbian security cam

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submitted by 25Julenergetic to u/25Julenergetic [link] [comments]


2020.06.27 14:58 thehorrorwriter2 Idol Worship Opening (Part 2/2)

Link To Part 1
Still filming, Bonnie staggered through the hallway. Her steps slow. Unlike Carty, her filmmaking skills were non-existent. The footage she was shooting would've been shaky-cam quality at best or nausea-inducing at worst. Bonnie's nervous excitement was getting the better of her.
The singing was now deafening, echoing through the farmhouse without the aid of a speaker.
Relying on the camera's light, Bonnie stopped in the middle of the hallway, searching the ominous landscape for any sign of the singer.
The singer's voice was harsher. Now not so much a song as it was a mumbled compulsion.
Bonnie listened closely. She could discern the words and could finally understand the lyrics.
Eyes without a face. Eyes without a face, got no human grace...
The singer repeated this same chorus in slow, agonizing fashion.
Bonnie remembered the song. A 1983 pop song. Eyes Without A Face. But it wasn't being sung with the clear, brooding tone of Billy Idol. It sounded like a harrowing soliloquy from someone in an asylum cell. Not an eloquent ballad courtesy of Idol. This was someone's serenade to alienation. And they wouldn't stop. Hell, maybe they couldn't stop.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
The singer wasn't even bothering to hold a tune at this point. Their bitter tone just had to keep repeating those words. Those safe words. Pop music for their sanity.
Eyes without a face...
Holding on tight to the camera, Bonnie waved it around the room. But she didn't see anything. All the while, the voice continued, seemingly taunting her.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie turned and looked down the narrow hallway. The front door was now shut. No way the singer was outside. "What the Hell..." Bonnie said to herself.
Reaching out of the darkness, Carty's hand snatched Bonnie's arm.
For once, Bonnie jumped in fear. "Shit!" she exclaimed as she faced Carty.
"It's just me," Carty said in a hushed tone. The fact that Bonnie was this jumpy destroyed Carty's hope that the singing was "just the wind" or some other lame excuse.
"Damn, girl, you scared the shit outta me!"
Eyes without a face...
Hearing the singer's unnerving cover of Eyes Without A Face, Carty's frantic eyes searched the room. "Where is he?" she asked Bonnie.
Bonnie broke away from her. "Shit, I don't know!"
Carty saw the closed front door. Faint hope struck her. They had a straight shot to escape.
Your eyes without a face...
The mysterious voice was more violent and hectic on this time around. Idol's lyrics now spouted in a wild burst. A burst that came from the staircase.
Carty turned and saw Bonnie rush toward those stairs. "Bonnie, no!" Carty yelled.
Hellbent on securing the footage, Bonnie held her camera out in front of her as she made her way to the staircase. Too determined to notice how shitty her handheld filmmaking was.
"Let's get the fuck outta here!" Carty yelled after Bonnie.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Terrified, Carty ran toward the stairs. Toward Bonnie. She couldn't let the love of her life confront the eerie voice alone. "Bonnie!" she yelled.
Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie laid one foot on the first wooden step. A grueling creak erupted.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, stopping her from going further. "Bonnie, please!" Carty pleaded.
Annoyed, Bonnie pulled her arm back. "Carty, just chill!"
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Both women listened in horror. The voice was louder than ever. And the couple now realized it was coming from beneath them.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, ready to lead them off to the front door at around 100 miles per hour. "Let's go-"
The small door under the staircase burst open with great force.
Carty let out a horrified scream.
A masked person emerged from the closet beneath the staircase. A tall, slender figure. Their outfit couldn't mask what was undoubtedly evil intentions. They wore black leather gloves. A gray hooded bathrobe perfect for an occult ceremony. They made their way toward the uneasy couple.
A black paper-mâché mask with painted red streaks covered the mysterious person's face. But it couldn't hide their glowering eyes. The mask was homemade and looked faded with age. A paper-mâché recreation of a melancholy face. A face that wasn't overtly feminine or masculine. An androgynous Angel of death.
The figure's gloves tightened their grip on the handle of a double bit axe. Both ends of the vicious weapon were clean and pristine. Sharp as Hell as well.
The masked person didn't say a word or sing the Idol lyrics as they marched toward the scared Carty and Bonnie.
A horrifying realization became clear to both women: they were this singer's target all along.
Trying to play tough, Bonnie pulled Carty up on the stairs with her. "What the fuck is this!" she yelled at the figure.
Bonnie aimed the camera right at the figure.
The singer stopped a few feet away from them. They stood tall and strong, basking in the camera's glorious light.
Carty stared at the singer, petrified in fear.
"Leave us alone, asshole!" Bonnie yelled.
The singer just looked at them with those unflinching eyes.
Carty couldn't tell if the masked intruder was either studying them or challenging the couple to make the first move. Even hidden behind a robe and mask, the figure seemed too confident, Carty thought. They weren't scared like us.
"Well, what the fuck you gonna do, huh!" Bonnie hurled at the singer. "You little bitch!"
Carty looked between Bonnie and the figure, hesitant on what to do. Maybe Bonnie was being too antagonistic, but Carty had seen Bonnie's tough-butch routine work plenty of times. If there was one thing Carty was confident in, it was that Bonnie could back up that mouth.
"Yeah, you're just a pussy!" Bonnie continued to the singer. Taunting the figure, she stepped off the stairs and walked toward them. "I got your bitchass on camera now!"
To Carty's surprise, both the figure and Bonnie were the same height. Close to the same build. Minus the axe, this’d be a fair fight.
"We already called the cops," Bonnie shouted at the figure. She put the camera up toward the androgynous mask. "We got your ass too! Fucking stalker bitch!"
The masked figure's gloved hands gripped the handle tighter. Their muscles flexed through the robe. The singer belied their uneven voice with real brute strength. Any more pressure in their grip, and the wooden handle would've probably snapped in two.
Uncomfortable, Carty watched the confrontation unfold. The figure's rage seemed to accelerate with each one of Bonnie's insults.
Bonnie gave the figure a harsh shove. "Get outta the way, bitch!" Bonnie yelled.
But the singer didn't budge at all. They stood tall. Their broad shoulders were only the beginning of a sculpted frame.
Carty reached into her pocket. She felt her phone. All she needed was the perfect time pull that baby out and dial the cops. Even if she was hesitant to do so considering her and Bonnie's modest criminal record.
Ready to fight back, Bonnie raised the flashlight up toward that fucking mask. "You stupid bitch-"
In a quick and sudden movement, the singer's gloved hand snatched Bonnie's wrist.
"Bonnie!" Carty said in horror.
Bonnie tried to break free but didn't have a chance. The figure's grip was harsh and stronger than Bonnie expected. During the struggle, Bonnie dropped the camera.
It hit the ground and slid over by the first step, the camera's red record light still on. The lens pointed right at the stairway, putting the spotlight now on the frightened Carty.
Bonnie turned and looked toward Carty. "Carty, run!" she yelled.
Leaving her phone in her pocket, Carty rushed toward them. Saving her lover was more important than calling a bunch of bumpkin-fuck police officers.
Using her free hand, Bonnie tried to swing on the figure, but the blows didn't bother them in the slightest. Instead, their stoic mask just looked straight at Bonnie. No anger on the androgynous face. Just nothingness.
"Bonnie!" Carty yelled. She tried to pull Bonnie away from the clutches of the singer.
"No, go!" Bonnie screamed. She pushed Carty toward the front door. "Get out!"
"I ain't leaving you!" Carty proclaimed. Channeling her inner Bonnie, Carty raised the wireless mic like a weapon.
Acting quick, the singer threw Bonnie back against the staircase.
Bonnie tripped on the first step and busted her ass on the uncomfortable stairs. All the steps caved in slightly beneath her weight.
The singer turned and honed their gaze on Carty.
"Run, Carty!" Bonnie pleaded.
Advancing upon Carty, the figure raised the axe with the flourish of a knight unsheathing a long sword.
Overcome in fear, Carty held on to the mic and backed against a wall. The eerie mask quashed her newfound "bravery."
"Carty!" Bonnie yelled. Cringing in pain, she leaned up on the staircase. "Carty, run!"
The singer held their weapon out and traced both blades against Carty's fragile face.
"No!" Bonnie cried out. She staggered back to her feet.
Disturbed, Carty swung the mic toward the mask in a pathetic attempt at protecting herself. "Get back!" she said in a loud whimper.
With unnerving agility, the figure dodged the mic. They hoisted the axe back for the fatal blow.
"Oh God..." Carty said, helpless. She pressed her head against the wall, wishing she could dissolve into it before suffering at the hands of the double bit axe.
Bonnie rushed toward them. "Carty!" she cried.
The singer brought the axe down in a forceful swing.
Carty shut her eyes, bracing for the vicious hit.
A messy THWACK erupted in the farmhouse.
Thick drops sprayed across the floor.
Realizing she was still alive, Carty opened her eyes in confusion. Then she screamed in a bellow of distraught horror.
The axe protruded out the top of Bonnie's skull. Bonnie had gotten in front of the weapon just in time. Just in time to save Carty.
Bonnie stood still… The sheer force of the hit froze her in place. Blood flowed all down her face and body. Bonnie a fountain of flowing red water.
Weeping, Carty looked down at her hands. Another helpless scream escaped her lips. Gallons of Bonnie's blood had splattered across Carty's smooth skin.
The crimson spots resembled an incurable disease. Then again, it was. Bonnie was dead. And Carty was next.
The helplessness only further set in for Carty once the masked killer yanked the axe back out without so much as a grunt.
The effortless pull sent more of Bonnie's blood spraying across Carty's mortified face.
Bonnie's corpse tumbled to the ground. The vivid wound had split the top of her head open. Her blood and gray matter spewed out in a spilled bowl of fleshy fruit. Bonnie's face forever frozen in fear, her dead eyes looking straight at Carty.
Horrified, Carty stared at her deceased girlfriend. This wasn't the Bonnie she wanted to remember. This wasn't the sexy, confident Bonnie she'd fallen in love with. This was a slaughtered corpse.
A flurry of quick whacks from the figure's axe ravaged those final moments between Carty and Bonnie. Unstoppable, the singer swung the axe straight down onto Bonnie's face, smashing it into a hundred red pieces.
Tears falling down her face, Carty screamed. "Bonnie! No!"
The masked intruder heaved the axe back. The axe's cleanliness was now marred by thick, wet blood. Both sides of the weapon for that matter.
Quicker than a lion on the prowl, the killer turned and faced Carty. Blood and grue was all over their mask. At least now, the androgynous mask had some literal color.
But their cold eyes chilled Carty to the bone. And the killer didn't seem exhausted in the slightest. They were just getting started.
Carty knew there was nothing else she could do. She hauled ass for the front door.
The singer lunged right in front of her, blocking Carty's path.
Panicking, Carty took a few nervous steps back. "No!" she yelled at the singer. "Fuck you!"
The killer matched her every step, even matching Carty's speed. The gap never closed between them, but to Carty, the mask and axe only seemed to get closer.
"Fuck you!" Carty screamed. She swung the wireless mic at the androgynous mask.
Taunting Carty, the killer dodged her swing with lackadaisical ease.
"You crazy bitch!" Carty screamed at the singer.
In an eruption of madness, the murderer raised the axe and went charging after Carty.
"No!" Carty shouted. Lowering the mic, she turned and ran toward the staircase.
Her feet splashed through her lover's blood. Hearing the singer's heavy footsteps, Carty turned and saw them gaining ground. Goddamn, he was fast!
Carty reached the stairs. With the joy of a runner completing a marathon, she put her foot on that first step in triumph. A shrill creak greeted her ears.
Right behind Carty, the killer lunged forward and swung the axe with all their might.
A nasty slice to the Achilles tendon dashed both Carty's hope at escape. She screamed in a most horrific agony as she fell onto the flight of stairs.
Slipping from Carty's grasp, the mic went flying through the air and smashed into the wall in front of her.
Helpless, Carty looked at her wound. The cut on the Achilles was rough and brutal. The mark of the axe's blade wasn't clean in the slightest.
Blood shot out of Carty's Achilles in thick spurts. A grisly sprinkler. Carty couldn't bear to look at the wound... and looking back at the hallway only meant having to see Bonnie's mutilated body once more.
Carty grabbed the cut in a pitiful attempt to stop the bleeding. Instead, all she got was a firsthand feel of a dam bursting with her own blood.
She looked over and saw the murderer step right toward her. Their axe only looked to be clamoring for more of Carty. The other side of the double bit weapon felt left out of the Achilles slash…
Overwhelmed in fear, Carty turned and tried to stand up, but the attempt only stretched her heel's hack to even greater depths. The window of the wound spread even wider, exposing bloodied muscle within her skin.
"Ah, fuck!" Carty unleashed in an awful scream.
She watched the killer stand up over her. "No!" Carty yelled. She attempted to crawl away, the damaged Achilles making Carty resemble an animal struggling to escape with a trap enclosed around its leg. Straining, she laid an elbow on the next step.
The wooden step collapsed under Carty's weight. She yelled as her arm disappeared through the busted wood. "Fuck!" Carty cried out, weary helplessness in her tone.
Sitting further away, Bonnie's camcorder filmed Carty's agony in all its visceral glory.
Taunting Carty, the killer put the axe to Carty's face.
An exhausted Carty looked on at the blood-stained mask. Its indiscernible features never failed to terrify her. The mask was somewhere between the world's creepiest mannequin and the face of a stoic high school psychopath.
"Why?" Carty asked the singer in defeat. She struggled to fight back her tears. "Why are you doing this?"
At a deliberate pace, the killer lowered the axe and leaned in closer toward Carty.
With uncomfortable fear, Carty watched them get closer. "No..." she muttered.
The singer's gloved hand reached out and stroked Carty's golden hair.
To Carty's surprise, their touch wasn't rough but gentle. Even as the glove tinged Carty's hair with a redness that mirrored the red stains scattered across the singer's mask.
Determined, Carty reached out and pulled off the androgynous mask.
Carty's expression was hit by an unsettling wave of confusion. Somehow, the situation had gotten weirder. And scarier.
Underneath the mask was a human face. The face of a middle-aged black woman. A stern, masculine face with wide eyes and hollow cheekbones. Streaks of red dye in her short hair. Her rough features couldn't hide her natural beauty. Even given her athletic frame, she could've been an unorthodox model if she ever gave a damn about dolling herself up.
The killer looked just as surprised as Carty. Maybe other victims had wanted to see what she looked like before... but no one had ever lived long enough to actually unmask the singer.
"No," Carty said in a terrified whimper. Clutching the mask, she tried to pull her arm out of the busted step. But she was trapped. Trapped with a mysterious female killer.
The murderer leaned back and raised her axe. Her eyes stared down upon Carty. Eyes more expressionless than the mask.
All Carty could do was stare back at the killer. "Please," Carty said, frightened. "Don't do-"
With primal strength, the killer sunk the blade straight into the side of Carty's neck, slicing into her precious jugular. The force of the hit made Carty's head tilt to the side.
Upon impact, the back of Carty's head collapsed onto a step, busting through the ancient wood. Much like her entrapped arm, Carty's head dangled through the shattered opening.
Grisly threads of her flesh were exposed. Blood scurried all down her body. All the way down her arms and all the way down to the mask she still held in her dead grip.
The axe still stuck straight out of Carty's neck. The other side of the weapon had finally gotten its taste of Carty.
Recovering from the kills, the murderer leaned against the stairway's railing. She stole a brief admiring glance down at Carty's corpse. Carty was still pretty after all... even after death.
As she took off her gloves with routine indifference, the killer's soft voice drifted through the room. It was the pretty voice she had earlier. Before her singing went off the rails and morphed into a demented compulsion. "Eyes without a face, got no human grace," the murderer sang with the reserved shyness of an awkward teenager at a talent show.
Finishing the chorus, she wiped sweat off her brow. Her eyes gazed over at the camcorder's beaming light.
Intrigued, the killer approached the camera, stepping through the overflowing blood. She scooped up the camcorder in excitement and tinkered with it. Even a sly smile crossed her lips.
The murderer looked over at both dead bodies. The sexy lesbian couple. The killer almost regretted killing off the two hotties. Almost. Deep down, she knew she had to. She wanted those sweet kills.
Turning her attention back to the camera, the singer played back all the footage from earlier.
Her eyes were particularly drawn to one specific scene: Carty and Bonnie's steamy farmhouse sex. The killer traced her finger along the camera's screen, right over the couple's nubile bodies. Excitement shattered through the singer's shield of coldness.
Link To eBook
submitted by thehorrorwriter2 to libraryofshadows [link] [comments]


2020.06.08 22:55 unknownhorrorwriter2 Lesbian security cam

Link To Part 1
Still filming, Bonnie staggered through the hallway. Her steps slow. Unlike Carty, her filmmaking skills were non-existent. The footage she was shooting would've been shaky-cam quality at best or nausea-inducing at worst. Bonnie's nervous excitement was getting the better of her.
The singing was now deafening, echoing through the farmhouse without the aid of a speaker.
Relying on the camera's light, Bonnie stopped in the middle of the hallway, searching the ominous landscape for any sign of the singer.
The singer's voice was harsher. Now not so much a song as it was a mumbled compulsion.
Bonnie listened closely. She could discern the words and could finally understand the lyrics.
Eyes without a face. Eyes without a face, got no human grace...
The singer repeated this same chorus in slow, agonizing fashion.
Bonnie remembered the song. A 1983 pop song. Eyes Without A Face. But it wasn't being sung with the clear, brooding tone of Billy Idol. It sounded like a harrowing soliloquy from someone in an asylum cell. Not an eloquent ballad courtesy of Idol. This was someone's serenade to alienation. And they wouldn't stop. Hell, maybe they couldn't stop.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
The singer wasn't even bothering to hold a tune at this point. Their bitter tone just had to keep repeating those words. Those safe words. Pop music for their sanity.
Eyes without a face...
Holding on tight to the camera, Bonnie waved it around the room. But she didn't see anything. All the while, the voice continued, seemingly taunting her.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie turned and looked down the narrow hallway. The front door was now shut. No way the singer was outside. "What the Hell..." Bonnie said to herself.
Reaching out of the darkness, Carty's hand snatched Bonnie's arm.
For once, Bonnie jumped in fear. "Shit!" she exclaimed as she faced Carty.
"It's just me," Carty said in a hushed tone. The fact that Bonnie was this jumpy destroyed Carty's hope that the singing was "just the wind" or some other lame excuse.
"Damn, girl, you scared the shit outta me!"
Eyes without a face...
Hearing the singer's unnerving cover of Eyes Without A Face, Carty's frantic eyes searched the room. "Where is he?" she asked Bonnie.
Bonnie broke away from her. "Shit, I don't know!"
Carty saw the closed front door. Faint hope struck her. They had a straight shot to escape.
Your eyes without a face...
The mysterious voice was more violent and hectic on this time around. Idol's lyrics now spouted in a wild burst. A burst that came from the staircase.
Carty turned and saw Bonnie rush toward those stairs. "Bonnie, no!" Carty yelled.
Hellbent on securing the footage, Bonnie held her camera out in front of her as she made her way to the staircase. Too determined to notice how shitty her handheld filmmaking was.
"Let's get the fuck outta here!" Carty yelled after Bonnie.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Terrified, Carty ran toward the stairs. Toward Bonnie. She couldn't let the love of her life confront the eerie voice alone. "Bonnie!" she yelled.
Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie laid one foot on the first wooden step. A grueling creak erupted.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, stopping her from going further. "Bonnie, please!" Carty pleaded.
Annoyed, Bonnie pulled her arm back. "Carty, just chill!"
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Both women listened in horror. The voice was louder than ever. And the couple now realized it was coming from beneath them.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, ready to lead them off to the front door at around 100 miles per hour. "Let's go-"
The small door under the staircase burst open with great force.
Carty let out a horrified scream.
A masked person emerged from the closet beneath the staircase. A tall, slender figure. Their outfit couldn't mask what was undoubtedly evil intentions. They wore black leather gloves. A gray hooded bathrobe perfect for an occult ceremony. They made their way toward the uneasy couple.
A black paper-mâché mask with painted red streaks covered the mysterious person's face. But it couldn't hide their glowering eyes. The mask was homemade and looked faded with age. A paper-mâché recreation of a melancholy face. A face that wasn't overtly feminine or masculine. An androgynous Angel of death.
The figure's gloves tightened their grip on the handle of a double bit axe. Both ends of the vicious weapon were clean and pristine. Sharp as Hell as well.
The masked person didn't say a word or sing the Idol lyrics as they marched toward the scared Carty and Bonnie.
A horrifying realization became clear to both women: they were this singer's target all along.
Trying to play tough, Bonnie pulled Carty up on the stairs with her. "What the fuck is this!" she yelled at the figure.
Bonnie aimed the camera right at the figure.
The singer stopped a few feet away from them. They stood tall and strong, basking in the camera's glorious light.
Carty stared at the singer, petrified in fear.
"Leave us alone, asshole!" Bonnie yelled.
The singer just looked at them with those unflinching eyes.
Carty couldn't tell if the masked intruder was either studying them or challenging the couple to make the first move. Even hidden behind a robe and mask, the figure seemed too confident, Carty thought. They weren't scared like us.
"Well, what the fuck you gonna do, huh!" Bonnie hurled at the singer. "You little bitch!"
Carty looked between Bonnie and the figure, hesitant on what to do. Maybe Bonnie was being too antagonistic, but Carty had seen Bonnie's tough-butch routine work plenty of times. If there was one thing Carty was confident in, it was that Bonnie could back up that mouth.
"Yeah, you're just a pussy!" Bonnie continued to the singer. Taunting the figure, she stepped off the stairs and walked toward them. "I got your bitchass on camera now!"
To Carty's surprise, both the figure and Bonnie were the same height. Close to the same build. Minus the axe, this’d be a fair fight.
"We already called the cops," Bonnie shouted at the figure. She put the camera up toward the androgynous mask. "We got your ass too! Fucking stalker bitch!"
The masked figure's gloved hands gripped the handle tighter. Their muscles flexed through the robe. The singer belied their uneven voice with real brute strength. Any more pressure in their grip, and the wooden handle would've probably snapped in two.
Uncomfortable, Carty watched the confrontation unfold. The figure's rage seemed to accelerate with each one of Bonnie's insults.
Bonnie gave the figure a harsh shove. "Get outta the way, bitch!" Bonnie yelled.
But the singer didn't budge at all. They stood tall. Their broad shoulders were only the beginning of a sculpted frame.
Carty reached into her pocket. She felt her phone. All she needed was the perfect time pull that baby out and dial the cops. Even if she was hesitant to do so considering her and Bonnie's modest criminal record.
Ready to fight back, Bonnie raised the flashlight up toward that fucking mask. "You stupid bitch-"
In a quick and sudden movement, the singer's gloved hand snatched Bonnie's wrist.
"Bonnie!" Carty said in horror.
Bonnie tried to break free but didn't have a chance. The figure's grip was harsh and stronger than Bonnie expected. During the struggle, Bonnie dropped the camera.
It hit the ground and slid over by the first step, the camera's red record light still on. The lens pointed right at the stairway, putting the spotlight now on the frightened Carty.
Bonnie turned and looked toward Carty. "Carty, run!" she yelled.
Leaving her phone in her pocket, Carty rushed toward them. Saving her lover was more important than calling a bunch of bumpkin-fuck police officers.
Using her free hand, Bonnie tried to swing on the figure, but the blows didn't bother them in the slightest. Instead, their stoic mask just looked straight at Bonnie. No anger on the androgynous face. Just nothingness.
"Bonnie!" Carty yelled. She tried to pull Bonnie away from the clutches of the singer.
"No, go!" Bonnie screamed. She pushed Carty toward the front door. "Get out!"
"I ain't leaving you!" Carty proclaimed. Channeling her inner Bonnie, Carty raised the wireless mic like a weapon.
Acting quick, the singer threw Bonnie back against the staircase.
Bonnie tripped on the first step and busted her ass on the uncomfortable stairs. All the steps caved in slightly beneath her weight.
The singer turned and honed their gaze on Carty.
"Run, Carty!" Bonnie pleaded.
Advancing upon Carty, the figure raised the axe with the flourish of a knight unsheathing a long sword.
Overcome in fear, Carty held on to the mic and backed against a wall. The eerie mask quashed her newfound "bravery."
"Carty!" Bonnie yelled. Cringing in pain, she leaned up on the staircase. "Carty, run!"
The singer held their weapon out and traced both blades against Carty's fragile face.
"No!" Bonnie cried out. She staggered back to her feet.
Disturbed, Carty swung the mic toward the mask in a pathetic attempt at protecting herself. "Get back!" she said in a loud whimper.
With unnerving agility, the figure dodged the mic. They hoisted the axe back for the fatal blow.
"Oh God..." Carty said, helpless. She pressed her head against the wall, wishing she could dissolve into it before suffering at the hands of the double bit axe.
Bonnie rushed toward them. "Carty!" she cried.
The singer brought the axe down in a forceful swing.
Carty shut her eyes, bracing for the vicious hit.
A messy THWACK erupted in the farmhouse.
Thick drops sprayed across the floor.
Realizing she was still alive, Carty opened her eyes in confusion. Then she screamed in a bellow of distraught horror.
The axe protruded out the top of Bonnie's skull. Bonnie had gotten in front of the weapon just in time. Just in time to save Carty.
Bonnie stood still… The sheer force of the hit froze her in place. Blood flowed all down her face and body. Bonnie a fountain of flowing red water.
Weeping, Carty looked down at her hands. Another helpless scream escaped her lips. Gallons of Bonnie's blood had splattered across Carty's smooth skin.
The crimson spots resembled an incurable disease. Then again, it was. Bonnie was dead. And Carty was next.
The helplessness only further set in for Carty once the masked killer yanked the axe back out without so much as a grunt.
The effortless pull sent more of Bonnie's blood spraying across Carty's mortified face.
Bonnie's corpse tumbled to the ground. The vivid wound had split the top of her head open. Her blood and gray matter spewed out in a spilled bowl of fleshy fruit. Bonnie's face forever frozen in fear, her dead eyes looking straight at Carty.
Horrified, Carty stared at her deceased girlfriend. This wasn't the Bonnie she wanted to remember. This wasn't the sexy, confident Bonnie she'd fallen in love with. This was a slaughtered corpse.
A flurry of quick whacks from the figure's axe ravaged those final moments between Carty and Bonnie. Unstoppable, the singer swung the axe straight down onto Bonnie's face, smashing it into a hundred red pieces.
Tears falling down her face, Carty screamed. "Bonnie! No!"
The masked intruder heaved the axe back. The axe's cleanliness was now marred by thick, wet blood. Both sides of the weapon for that matter.
Quicker than a lion on the prowl, the killer turned and faced Carty. Blood and grue was all over their mask. At least now, the androgynous mask had some literal color.
But their cold eyes chilled Carty to the bone. And the killer didn't seem exhausted in the slightest. They were just getting started.
Carty knew there was nothing else she could do. She hauled ass for the front door.
The singer lunged right in front of her, blocking Carty's path.
Panicking, Carty took a few nervous steps back. "No!" she yelled at the singer. "Fuck you!"
The killer matched her every step, even matching Carty's speed. The gap never closed between them, but to Carty, the mask and axe only seemed to get closer.
"Fuck you!" Carty screamed. She swung the wireless mic at the androgynous mask.
Taunting Carty, the killer dodged her swing with lackadaisical ease.
"You crazy bitch!" Carty screamed at the singer.
In an eruption of madness, the murderer raised the axe and went charging after Carty.
"No!" Carty shouted. Lowering the mic, she turned and ran toward the staircase.
Her feet splashed through her lover's blood. Hearing the singer's heavy footsteps, Carty turned and saw them gaining ground. Goddamn, he was fast!
Carty reached the stairs. With the joy of a runner completing a marathon, she put her foot on that first step in triumph. A shrill creak greeted her ears.
Right behind Carty, the killer lunged forward and swung the axe with all their might.
A nasty slice to the Achilles tendon dashed both Carty's hope at escape. She screamed in a most horrific agony as she fell onto the flight of stairs.
Slipping from Carty's grasp, the mic went flying through the air and smashed into the wall in front of her.
Helpless, Carty looked at her wound. The cut on the Achilles was rough and brutal. The mark of the axe's blade wasn't clean in the slightest.
Blood shot out of Carty's Achilles in thick spurts. A grisly sprinkler. Carty couldn't bear to look at the wound... and looking back at the hallway only meant having to see Bonnie's mutilated body once more.
Carty grabbed the cut in a pitiful attempt to stop the bleeding. Instead, all she got was a firsthand feel of a dam bursting with her own blood.
She looked over and saw the murderer step right toward her. Their axe only looked to be clamoring for more of Carty. The other side of the double bit weapon felt left out of the Achilles slash…
Overwhelmed in fear, Carty turned and tried to stand up, but the attempt only stretched her heel's hack to even greater depths. The window of the wound spread even wider, exposing bloodied muscle within her skin.
"Ah, fuck!" Carty unleashed in an awful scream.
She watched the killer stand up over her. "No!" Carty yelled. She attempted to crawl away, the damaged Achilles making Carty resemble an animal struggling to escape with a trap enclosed around its leg. Straining, she laid an elbow on the next step.
The wooden step collapsed under Carty's weight. She yelled as her arm disappeared through the busted wood. "Fuck!" Carty cried out, weary helplessness in her tone.
Sitting further away, Bonnie's camcorder filmed Carty's agony in all its visceral glory.
Taunting Carty, the killer put the axe to Carty's face.
An exhausted Carty looked on at the blood-stained mask. Its indiscernible features never failed to terrify her. The mask was somewhere between the world's creepiest mannequin and the face of a stoic high school psychopath.
"Why?" Carty asked the singer in defeat. She struggled to fight back her tears. "Why are you doing this?"
At a deliberate pace, the killer lowered the axe and leaned in closer toward Carty.
With uncomfortable fear, Carty watched them get closer. "No..." she muttered.
The singer's gloved hand reached out and stroked Carty's golden hair.
To Carty's surprise, their touch wasn't rough but gentle. Even as the glove tinged Carty's hair with a redness that mirrored the red stains scattered across the singer's mask.
Determined, Carty reached out and pulled off the androgynous mask.
Carty's expression was hit by an unsettling wave of confusion. Somehow, the situation had gotten weirder. And scarier.
Underneath the mask was a human face. The face of a middle-aged black woman. A stern, masculine face with wide eyes and hollow cheekbones. Streaks of red dye in her short hair. Her rough features couldn't hide her natural beauty. Even given her athletic frame, she could've been an unorthodox model if she ever gave a damn about dolling herself up.
The killer looked just as surprised as Carty. Maybe other victims had wanted to see what she looked like before... but no one had ever lived long enough to actually unmask the singer.
"No," Carty said in a terrified whimper. Clutching the mask, she tried to pull her arm out of the busted step. But she was trapped. Trapped with a mysterious female killer.
The murderer leaned back and raised her axe. Her eyes stared down upon Carty. Eyes more expressionless than the mask.
All Carty could do was stare back at the killer. "Please," Carty said, frightened. "Don't do-"
With primal strength, the killer sunk the blade straight into the side of Carty's neck, slicing into her precious jugular. The force of the hit made Carty's head tilt to the side.
Upon impact, the back of Carty's head collapsed onto a step, busting through the ancient wood. Much like her entrapped arm, Carty's head dangled through the shattered opening.
Grisly threads of her flesh were exposed. Blood scurried all down her body. All the way down her arms and all the way down to the mask she still held in her dead grip.
The axe still stuck straight out of Carty's neck. The other side of the weapon had finally gotten its taste of Carty.
Recovering from the kills, the murderer leaned against the stairway's railing. She stole a brief admiring glance down at Carty's corpse. Carty was still pretty after all... even after death.
As she took off her gloves with routine indifference, the killer's soft voice drifted through the room. It was the pretty voice she had earlier. Before her singing went off the rails and morphed into a demented compulsion. "Eyes without a face, got no human grace," the murderer sang with the reserved shyness of an awkward teenager at a talent show.
Finishing the chorus, she wiped sweat off her brow. Her eyes gazed over at the camcorder's beaming light.
Intrigued, the killer approached the camera, stepping through the overflowing blood. She scooped up the camcorder in excitement and tinkered with it. Even a sly smile crossed her lips.
The murderer looked over at both dead bodies. The sexy lesbian couple. The killer almost regretted killing off the two hotties. Almost. Deep down, she knew she had to. She wanted those sweet kills.
Turning her attention back to the camera, the singer played back all the footage from earlier.
Her eyes were particularly drawn to one specific scene: Carty and Bonnie's steamy farmhouse sex. The killer traced her finger along the camera's screen, right over the couple's nubile bodies. Excitement shattered through the singer's shield of coldness.
Link To eBook
submitted by unknownhorrorwriter2 to SignalHorrorFiction [link] [comments]


2020.06.08 22:39 unknownhorrorwriter2 Lesbian security cam

Link To Part 1
Still filming, Bonnie staggered through the hallway. Her steps slow. Unlike Carty, her filmmaking skills were non-existent. The footage she was shooting would've been shaky-cam quality at best or nausea-inducing at worst. Bonnie's nervous excitement was getting the better of her.
The singing was now deafening, echoing through the farmhouse without the aid of a speaker.
Relying on the camera's light, Bonnie stopped in the middle of the hallway, searching the ominous landscape for any sign of the singer.
The singer's voice was harsher. Now not so much a song as it was a mumbled compulsion.
Bonnie listened closely. She could discern the words and could finally understand the lyrics.
Eyes without a face. Eyes without a face, got no human grace...
The singer repeated this same chorus in slow, agonizing fashion.
Bonnie remembered the song. A 1983 pop song. Eyes Without A Face. But it wasn't being sung with the clear, brooding tone of Billy Idol. It sounded like a harrowing soliloquy from someone in an asylum cell. Not an eloquent ballad courtesy of Idol. This was someone's serenade to alienation. And they wouldn't stop. Hell, maybe they couldn't stop.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
The singer wasn't even bothering to hold a tune at this point. Their bitter tone just had to keep repeating those words. Those safe words. Pop music for their sanity.
Eyes without a face...
Holding on tight to the camera, Bonnie waved it around the room. But she didn't see anything. All the while, the voice continued, seemingly taunting her.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie turned and looked down the narrow hallway. The front door was now shut. No way the singer was outside. "What the Hell..." Bonnie said to herself.
Reaching out of the darkness, Carty's hand snatched Bonnie's arm.
For once, Bonnie jumped in fear. "Shit!" she exclaimed as she faced Carty.
"It's just me," Carty said in a hushed tone. The fact that Bonnie was this jumpy destroyed Carty's hope that the singing was "just the wind" or some other lame excuse.
"Damn, girl, you scared the shit outta me!"
Eyes without a face...
Hearing the singer's unnerving cover of Eyes Without A Face, Carty's frantic eyes searched the room. "Where is he?" she asked Bonnie.
Bonnie broke away from her. "Shit, I don't know!"
Carty saw the closed front door. Faint hope struck her. They had a straight shot to escape.
Your eyes without a face...
The mysterious voice was more violent and hectic on this time around. Idol's lyrics now spouted in a wild burst. A burst that came from the staircase.
Carty turned and saw Bonnie rush toward those stairs. "Bonnie, no!" Carty yelled.
Hellbent on securing the footage, Bonnie held her camera out in front of her as she made her way to the staircase. Too determined to notice how shitty her handheld filmmaking was.
"Let's get the fuck outta here!" Carty yelled after Bonnie.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Terrified, Carty ran toward the stairs. Toward Bonnie. She couldn't let the love of her life confront the eerie voice alone. "Bonnie!" she yelled.
Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie laid one foot on the first wooden step. A grueling creak erupted.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, stopping her from going further. "Bonnie, please!" Carty pleaded.
Annoyed, Bonnie pulled her arm back. "Carty, just chill!"
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Both women listened in horror. The voice was louder than ever. And the couple now realized it was coming from beneath them.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, ready to lead them off to the front door at around 100 miles per hour. "Let's go-"
The small door under the staircase burst open with great force.
Carty let out a horrified scream.
A masked person emerged from the closet beneath the staircase. A tall, slender figure. Their outfit couldn't mask what was undoubtedly evil intentions. They wore black leather gloves. A gray hooded bathrobe perfect for an occult ceremony. They made their way toward the uneasy couple.
A black paper-mâché mask with painted red streaks covered the mysterious person's face. But it couldn't hide their glowering eyes. The mask was homemade and looked faded with age. A paper-mâché recreation of a melancholy face. A face that wasn't overtly feminine or masculine. An androgynous Angel of death.
The figure's gloves tightened their grip on the handle of a double bit axe. Both ends of the vicious weapon were clean and pristine. Sharp as Hell as well.
The masked person didn't say a word or sing the Idol lyrics as they marched toward the scared Carty and Bonnie.
A horrifying realization became clear to both women: they were this singer's target all along.
Trying to play tough, Bonnie pulled Carty up on the stairs with her. "What the fuck is this!" she yelled at the figure.
Bonnie aimed the camera right at the figure.
The singer stopped a few feet away from them. They stood tall and strong, basking in the camera's glorious light.
Carty stared at the singer, petrified in fear.
"Leave us alone, asshole!" Bonnie yelled.
The singer just looked at them with those unflinching eyes.
Carty couldn't tell if the masked intruder was either studying them or challenging the couple to make the first move. Even hidden behind a robe and mask, the figure seemed too confident, Carty thought. They weren't scared like us.
"Well, what the fuck you gonna do, huh!" Bonnie hurled at the singer. "You little bitch!"
Carty looked between Bonnie and the figure, hesitant on what to do. Maybe Bonnie was being too antagonistic, but Carty had seen Bonnie's tough-butch routine work plenty of times. If there was one thing Carty was confident in, it was that Bonnie could back up that mouth.
"Yeah, you're just a pussy!" Bonnie continued to the singer. Taunting the figure, she stepped off the stairs and walked toward them. "I got your bitchass on camera now!"
To Carty's surprise, both the figure and Bonnie were the same height. Close to the same build. Minus the axe, this’d be a fair fight.
"We already called the cops," Bonnie shouted at the figure. She put the camera up toward the androgynous mask. "We got your ass too! Fucking stalker bitch!"
The masked figure's gloved hands gripped the handle tighter. Their muscles flexed through the robe. The singer belied their uneven voice with real brute strength. Any more pressure in their grip, and the wooden handle would've probably snapped in two.
Uncomfortable, Carty watched the confrontation unfold. The figure's rage seemed to accelerate with each one of Bonnie's insults.
Bonnie gave the figure a harsh shove. "Get outta the way, bitch!" Bonnie yelled.
But the singer didn't budge at all. They stood tall. Their broad shoulders were only the beginning of a sculpted frame.
Carty reached into her pocket. She felt her phone. All she needed was the perfect time pull that baby out and dial the cops. Even if she was hesitant to do so considering her and Bonnie's modest criminal record.
Ready to fight back, Bonnie raised the flashlight up toward that fucking mask. "You stupid bitch-"
In a quick and sudden movement, the singer's gloved hand snatched Bonnie's wrist.
"Bonnie!" Carty said in horror.
Bonnie tried to break free but didn't have a chance. The figure's grip was harsh and stronger than Bonnie expected. During the struggle, Bonnie dropped the camera.
It hit the ground and slid over by the first step, the camera's red record light still on. The lens pointed right at the stairway, putting the spotlight now on the frightened Carty.
Bonnie turned and looked toward Carty. "Carty, run!" she yelled.
Leaving her phone in her pocket, Carty rushed toward them. Saving her lover was more important than calling a bunch of bumpkin-fuck police officers.
Using her free hand, Bonnie tried to swing on the figure, but the blows didn't bother them in the slightest. Instead, their stoic mask just looked straight at Bonnie. No anger on the androgynous face. Just nothingness.
"Bonnie!" Carty yelled. She tried to pull Bonnie away from the clutches of the singer.
"No, go!" Bonnie screamed. She pushed Carty toward the front door. "Get out!"
"I ain't leaving you!" Carty proclaimed. Channeling her inner Bonnie, Carty raised the wireless mic like a weapon.
Acting quick, the singer threw Bonnie back against the staircase.
Bonnie tripped on the first step and busted her ass on the uncomfortable stairs. All the steps caved in slightly beneath her weight.
The singer turned and honed their gaze on Carty.
"Run, Carty!" Bonnie pleaded.
Advancing upon Carty, the figure raised the axe with the flourish of a knight unsheathing a long sword.
Overcome in fear, Carty held on to the mic and backed against a wall. The eerie mask quashed her newfound "bravery."
"Carty!" Bonnie yelled. Cringing in pain, she leaned up on the staircase. "Carty, run!"
The singer held their weapon out and traced both blades against Carty's fragile face.
"No!" Bonnie cried out. She staggered back to her feet.
Disturbed, Carty swung the mic toward the mask in a pathetic attempt at protecting herself. "Get back!" she said in a loud whimper.
With unnerving agility, the figure dodged the mic. They hoisted the axe back for the fatal blow.
"Oh God..." Carty said, helpless. She pressed her head against the wall, wishing she could dissolve into it before suffering at the hands of the double bit axe.
Bonnie rushed toward them. "Carty!" she cried.
The singer brought the axe down in a forceful swing.
Carty shut her eyes, bracing for the vicious hit.
A messy THWACK erupted in the farmhouse.
Thick drops sprayed across the floor.
Realizing she was still alive, Carty opened her eyes in confusion. Then she screamed in a bellow of distraught horror.
The axe protruded out the top of Bonnie's skull. Bonnie had gotten in front of the weapon just in time. Just in time to save Carty.
Bonnie stood still… The sheer force of the hit froze her in place. Blood flowed all down her face and body. Bonnie a fountain of flowing red water.
Weeping, Carty looked down at her hands. Another helpless scream escaped her lips. Gallons of Bonnie's blood had splattered across Carty's smooth skin.
The crimson spots resembled an incurable disease. Then again, it was. Bonnie was dead. And Carty was next.
The helplessness only further set in for Carty once the masked killer yanked the axe back out without so much as a grunt.
The effortless pull sent more of Bonnie's blood spraying across Carty's mortified face.
Bonnie's corpse tumbled to the ground. The vivid wound had split the top of her head open. Her blood and gray matter spewed out in a spilled bowl of fleshy fruit. Bonnie's face forever frozen in fear, her dead eyes looking straight at Carty.
Horrified, Carty stared at her deceased girlfriend. This wasn't the Bonnie she wanted to remember. This wasn't the sexy, confident Bonnie she'd fallen in love with. This was a slaughtered corpse.
A flurry of quick whacks from the figure's axe ravaged those final moments between Carty and Bonnie. Unstoppable, the singer swung the axe straight down onto Bonnie's face, smashing it into a hundred red pieces.
Tears falling down her face, Carty screamed. "Bonnie! No!"
The masked intruder heaved the axe back. The axe's cleanliness was now marred by thick, wet blood. Both sides of the weapon for that matter.
Quicker than a lion on the prowl, the killer turned and faced Carty. Blood and grue was all over their mask. At least now, the androgynous mask had some literal color.
But their cold eyes chilled Carty to the bone. And the killer didn't seem exhausted in the slightest. They were just getting started.
Carty knew there was nothing else she could do. She hauled ass for the front door.
The singer lunged right in front of her, blocking Carty's path.
Panicking, Carty took a few nervous steps back. "No!" she yelled at the singer. "Fuck you!"
The killer matched her every step, even matching Carty's speed. The gap never closed between them, but to Carty, the mask and axe only seemed to get closer.
"Fuck you!" Carty screamed. She swung the wireless mic at the androgynous mask.
Taunting Carty, the killer dodged her swing with lackadaisical ease.
"You crazy bitch!" Carty screamed at the singer.
In an eruption of madness, the murderer raised the axe and went charging after Carty.
"No!" Carty shouted. Lowering the mic, she turned and ran toward the staircase.
Her feet splashed through her lover's blood. Hearing the singer's heavy footsteps, Carty turned and saw them gaining ground. Goddamn, he was fast!
Carty reached the stairs. With the joy of a runner completing a marathon, she put her foot on that first step in triumph. A shrill creak greeted her ears.
Right behind Carty, the killer lunged forward and swung the axe with all their might.
A nasty slice to the Achilles tendon dashed both Carty's hope at escape. She screamed in a most horrific agony as she fell onto the flight of stairs.
Slipping from Carty's grasp, the mic went flying through the air and smashed into the wall in front of her.
Helpless, Carty looked at her wound. The cut on the Achilles was rough and brutal. The mark of the axe's blade wasn't clean in the slightest.
Blood shot out of Carty's Achilles in thick spurts. A grisly sprinkler. Carty couldn't bear to look at the wound... and looking back at the hallway only meant having to see Bonnie's mutilated body once more.
Carty grabbed the cut in a pitiful attempt to stop the bleeding. Instead, all she got was a firsthand feel of a dam bursting with her own blood.
She looked over and saw the murderer step right toward her. Their axe only looked to be clamoring for more of Carty. The other side of the double bit weapon felt left out of the Achilles slash…
Overwhelmed in fear, Carty turned and tried to stand up, but the attempt only stretched her heel's hack to even greater depths. The window of the wound spread even wider, exposing bloodied muscle within her skin.
"Ah, fuck!" Carty unleashed in an awful scream.
She watched the killer stand up over her. "No!" Carty yelled. She attempted to crawl away, the damaged Achilles making Carty resemble an animal struggling to escape with a trap enclosed around its leg. Straining, she laid an elbow on the next step.
The wooden step collapsed under Carty's weight. She yelled as her arm disappeared through the busted wood. "Fuck!" Carty cried out, weary helplessness in her tone.
Sitting further away, Bonnie's camcorder filmed Carty's agony in all its visceral glory.
Taunting Carty, the killer put the axe to Carty's face.
An exhausted Carty looked on at the blood-stained mask. Its indiscernible features never failed to terrify her. The mask was somewhere between the world's creepiest mannequin and the face of a stoic high school psychopath.
"Why?" Carty asked the singer in defeat. She struggled to fight back her tears. "Why are you doing this?"
At a deliberate pace, the killer lowered the axe and leaned in closer toward Carty.
With uncomfortable fear, Carty watched them get closer. "No..." she muttered.
The singer's gloved hand reached out and stroked Carty's golden hair.
To Carty's surprise, their touch wasn't rough but gentle. Even as the glove tinged Carty's hair with a redness that mirrored the red stains scattered across the singer's mask.
Determined, Carty reached out and pulled off the androgynous mask.
Carty's expression was hit by an unsettling wave of confusion. Somehow, the situation had gotten weirder. And scarier.
Underneath the mask was a human face. The face of a middle-aged black woman. A stern, masculine face with wide eyes and hollow cheekbones. Streaks of red dye in her short hair. Her rough features couldn't hide her natural beauty. Even given her athletic frame, she could've been an unorthodox model if she ever gave a damn about dolling herself up.
The killer looked just as surprised as Carty. Maybe other victims had wanted to see what she looked like before... but no one had ever lived long enough to actually unmask the singer.
"No," Carty said in a terrified whimper. Clutching the mask, she tried to pull her arm out of the busted step. But she was trapped. Trapped with a mysterious female killer.
The murderer leaned back and raised her axe. Her eyes stared down upon Carty. Eyes more expressionless than the mask.
All Carty could do was stare back at the killer. "Please," Carty said, frightened. "Don't do-"
With primal strength, the killer sunk the blade straight into the side of Carty's neck, slicing into her precious jugular. The force of the hit made Carty's head tilt to the side.
Upon impact, the back of Carty's head collapsed onto a step, busting through the ancient wood. Much like her entrapped arm, Carty's head dangled through the shattered opening.
Grisly threads of her flesh were exposed. Blood scurried all down her body. All the way down her arms and all the way down to the mask she still held in her dead grip.
The axe still stuck straight out of Carty's neck. The other side of the weapon had finally gotten its taste of Carty.
Recovering from the kills, the murderer leaned against the stairway's railing. She stole a brief admiring glance down at Carty's corpse. Carty was still pretty after all... even after death.
As she took off her gloves with routine indifference, the killer's soft voice drifted through the room. It was the pretty voice she had earlier. Before her singing went off the rails and morphed into a demented compulsion. "Eyes without a face, got no human grace," the murderer sang with the reserved shyness of an awkward teenager at a talent show.
Finishing the chorus, she wiped sweat off her brow. Her eyes gazed over at the camcorder's beaming light.
Intrigued, the killer approached the camera, stepping through the overflowing blood. She scooped up the camcorder in excitement and tinkered with it. Even a sly smile crossed her lips.
The murderer looked over at both dead bodies. The sexy lesbian couple. The killer almost regretted killing off the two hotties. Almost. Deep down, she knew she had to. She wanted those sweet kills.
Turning her attention back to the camera, the singer played back all the footage from earlier.
Her eyes were particularly drawn to one specific scene: Carty and Bonnie's steamy farmhouse sex. The killer traced her finger along the camera's screen, right over the couple's nubile bodies. Excitement shattered through the singer's shield of coldness.
Link To eBook
submitted by unknownhorrorwriter2 to ThrillSleep [link] [comments]


2020.06.08 19:40 unknownhorrorwriter2 Cam lesbian security

Link To Part 1
Still filming, Bonnie staggered through the hallway. Her steps slow. Unlike Carty, her filmmaking skills were non-existent. The footage she was shooting would've been shaky-cam quality at best or nausea-inducing at worst. Bonnie's nervous excitement was getting the better of her.
The singing was now deafening, echoing through the farmhouse without the aid of a speaker.
Relying on the camera's light, Bonnie stopped in the middle of the hallway, searching the ominous landscape for any sign of the singer.
The singer's voice was harsher. Now not so much a song as it was a mumbled compulsion.
Bonnie listened closely. She could discern the words and could finally understand the lyrics.
Eyes without a face. Eyes without a face, got no human grace...
The singer repeated this same chorus in slow, agonizing fashion.
Bonnie remembered the song. A 1983 pop song. Eyes Without A Face. But it wasn't being sung with the clear, brooding tone of Billy Idol. It sounded like a harrowing soliloquy from someone in an asylum cell. Not an eloquent ballad courtesy of Idol. This was someone's serenade to alienation. And they wouldn't stop. Hell, maybe they couldn't stop.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
The singer wasn't even bothering to hold a tune at this point. Their bitter tone just had to keep repeating those words. Those safe words. Pop music for their sanity.
Eyes without a face...
Holding on tight to the camera, Bonnie waved it around the room. But she didn't see anything. All the while, the voice continued, seemingly taunting her.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie turned and looked down the narrow hallway. The front door was now shut. No way the singer was outside. "What the Hell..." Bonnie said to herself.
Reaching out of the darkness, Carty's hand snatched Bonnie's arm.
For once, Bonnie jumped in fear. "Shit!" she exclaimed as she faced Carty.
"It's just me," Carty said in a hushed tone. The fact that Bonnie was this jumpy destroyed Carty's hope that the singing was "just the wind" or some other lame excuse.
"Damn, girl, you scared the shit outta me!"
Eyes without a face...
Hearing the singer's unnerving cover of Eyes Without A Face, Carty's frantic eyes searched the room. "Where is he?" she asked Bonnie.
Bonnie broke away from her. "Shit, I don't know!"
Carty saw the closed front door. Faint hope struck her. They had a straight shot to escape.
Your eyes without a face...
The mysterious voice was more violent and hectic on this time around. Idol's lyrics now spouted in a wild burst. A burst that came from the staircase.
Carty turned and saw Bonnie rush toward those stairs. "Bonnie, no!" Carty yelled.
Hellbent on securing the footage, Bonnie held her camera out in front of her as she made her way to the staircase. Too determined to notice how shitty her handheld filmmaking was.
"Let's get the fuck outta here!" Carty yelled after Bonnie.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Terrified, Carty ran toward the stairs. Toward Bonnie. She couldn't let the love of her life confront the eerie voice alone. "Bonnie!" she yelled.
Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie laid one foot on the first wooden step. A grueling creak erupted.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, stopping her from going further. "Bonnie, please!" Carty pleaded.
Annoyed, Bonnie pulled her arm back. "Carty, just chill!"
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Both women listened in horror. The voice was louder than ever. And the couple now realized it was coming from beneath them.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, ready to lead them off to the front door at around 100 miles per hour. "Let's go-"
The small door under the staircase burst open with great force.
Carty let out a horrified scream.
A masked person emerged from the closet beneath the staircase. A tall, slender figure. Their outfit couldn't mask what was undoubtedly evil intentions. They wore black leather gloves. A gray hooded bathrobe perfect for an occult ceremony. They made their way toward the uneasy couple.
A black paper-mâché mask with painted red streaks covered the mysterious person's face. But it couldn't hide their glowering eyes. The mask was homemade and looked faded with age. A paper-mâché recreation of a melancholy face. A face that wasn't overtly feminine or masculine. An androgynous Angel of death.
The figure's gloves tightened their grip on the handle of a double bit axe. Both ends of the vicious weapon were clean and pristine. Sharp as Hell as well.
The masked person didn't say a word or sing the Idol lyrics as they marched toward the scared Carty and Bonnie.
A horrifying realization became clear to both women: they were this singer's target all along.
Trying to play tough, Bonnie pulled Carty up on the stairs with her. "What the fuck is this!" she yelled at the figure.
Bonnie aimed the camera right at the figure.
The singer stopped a few feet away from them. They stood tall and strong, basking in the camera's glorious light.
Carty stared at the singer, petrified in fear.
"Leave us alone, asshole!" Bonnie yelled.
The singer just looked at them with those unflinching eyes.
Carty couldn't tell if the masked intruder was either studying them or challenging the couple to make the first move. Even hidden behind a robe and mask, the figure seemed too confident, Carty thought. They weren't scared like us.
"Well, what the fuck you gonna do, huh!" Bonnie hurled at the singer. "You little bitch!"
Carty looked between Bonnie and the figure, hesitant on what to do. Maybe Bonnie was being too antagonistic, but Carty had seen Bonnie's tough-butch routine work plenty of times. If there was one thing Carty was confident in, it was that Bonnie could back up that mouth.
"Yeah, you're just a pussy!" Bonnie continued to the singer. Taunting the figure, she stepped off the stairs and walked toward them. "I got your bitchass on camera now!"
To Carty's surprise, both the figure and Bonnie were the same height. Close to the same build. Minus the axe, this’d be a fair fight.
"We already called the cops," Bonnie shouted at the figure. She put the camera up toward the androgynous mask. "We got your ass too! Fucking stalker bitch!"
The masked figure's gloved hands gripped the handle tighter. Their muscles flexed through the robe. The singer belied their uneven voice with real brute strength. Any more pressure in their grip, and the wooden handle would've probably snapped in two.
Uncomfortable, Carty watched the confrontation unfold. The figure's rage seemed to accelerate with each one of Bonnie's insults.
Bonnie gave the figure a harsh shove. "Get outta the way, bitch!" Bonnie yelled.
But the singer didn't budge at all. They stood tall. Their broad shoulders were only the beginning of a sculpted frame.
Carty reached into her pocket. She felt her phone. All she needed was the perfect time pull that baby out and dial the cops. Even if she was hesitant to do so considering her and Bonnie's modest criminal record.
Ready to fight back, Bonnie raised the flashlight up toward that fucking mask. "You stupid bitch-"
In a quick and sudden movement, the singer's gloved hand snatched Bonnie's wrist.
"Bonnie!" Carty said in horror.
Bonnie tried to break free but didn't have a chance. The figure's grip was harsh and stronger than Bonnie expected. During the struggle, Bonnie dropped the camera.
It hit the ground and slid over by the first step, the camera's red record light still on. The lens pointed right at the stairway, putting the spotlight now on the frightened Carty.
Bonnie turned and looked toward Carty. "Carty, run!" she yelled.
Leaving her phone in her pocket, Carty rushed toward them. Saving her lover was more important than calling a bunch of bumpkin-fuck police officers.
Using her free hand, Bonnie tried to swing on the figure, but the blows didn't bother them in the slightest. Instead, their stoic mask just looked straight at Bonnie. No anger on the androgynous face. Just nothingness.
"Bonnie!" Carty yelled. She tried to pull Bonnie away from the clutches of the singer.
"No, go!" Bonnie screamed. She pushed Carty toward the front door. "Get out!"
"I ain't leaving you!" Carty proclaimed. Channeling her inner Bonnie, Carty raised the wireless mic like a weapon.
Acting quick, the singer threw Bonnie back against the staircase.
Bonnie tripped on the first step and busted her ass on the uncomfortable stairs. All the steps caved in slightly beneath her weight.
The singer turned and honed their gaze on Carty.
"Run, Carty!" Bonnie pleaded.
Advancing upon Carty, the figure raised the axe with the flourish of a knight unsheathing a long sword.
Overcome in fear, Carty held on to the mic and backed against a wall. The eerie mask quashed her newfound "bravery."
"Carty!" Bonnie yelled. Cringing in pain, she leaned up on the staircase. "Carty, run!"
The singer held their weapon out and traced both blades against Carty's fragile face.
"No!" Bonnie cried out. She staggered back to her feet.
Disturbed, Carty swung the mic toward the mask in a pathetic attempt at protecting herself. "Get back!" she said in a loud whimper.
With unnerving agility, the figure dodged the mic. They hoisted the axe back for the fatal blow.
"Oh God..." Carty said, helpless. She pressed her head against the wall, wishing she could dissolve into it before suffering at the hands of the double bit axe.
Bonnie rushed toward them. "Carty!" she cried.
The singer brought the axe down in a forceful swing.
Carty shut her eyes, bracing for the vicious hit.
A messy THWACK erupted in the farmhouse.
Thick drops sprayed across the floor.
Realizing she was still alive, Carty opened her eyes in confusion. Then she screamed in a bellow of distraught horror.
The axe protruded out the top of Bonnie's skull. Bonnie had gotten in front of the weapon just in time. Just in time to save Carty.
Bonnie stood still… The sheer force of the hit froze her in place. Blood flowed all down her face and body. Bonnie a fountain of flowing red water.
Weeping, Carty looked down at her hands. Another helpless scream escaped her lips. Gallons of Bonnie's blood had splattered across Carty's smooth skin.
The crimson spots resembled an incurable disease. Then again, it was. Bonnie was dead. And Carty was next.
The helplessness only further set in for Carty once the masked killer yanked the axe back out without so much as a grunt.
The effortless pull sent more of Bonnie's blood spraying across Carty's mortified face.
Bonnie's corpse tumbled to the ground. The vivid wound had split the top of her head open. Her blood and gray matter spewed out in a spilled bowl of fleshy fruit. Bonnie's face forever frozen in fear, her dead eyes looking straight at Carty.
Horrified, Carty stared at her deceased girlfriend. This wasn't the Bonnie she wanted to remember. This wasn't the sexy, confident Bonnie she'd fallen in love with. This was a slaughtered corpse.
A flurry of quick whacks from the figure's axe ravaged those final moments between Carty and Bonnie. Unstoppable, the singer swung the axe straight down onto Bonnie's face, smashing it into a hundred red pieces.
Tears falling down her face, Carty screamed. "Bonnie! No!"
The masked intruder heaved the axe back. The axe's cleanliness was now marred by thick, wet blood. Both sides of the weapon for that matter.
Quicker than a lion on the prowl, the killer turned and faced Carty. Blood and grue was all over their mask. At least now, the androgynous mask had some literal color.
But their cold eyes chilled Carty to the bone. And the killer didn't seem exhausted in the slightest. They were just getting started.
Carty knew there was nothing else she could do. She hauled ass for the front door.
The singer lunged right in front of her, blocking Carty's path.
Panicking, Carty took a few nervous steps back. "No!" she yelled at the singer. "Fuck you!"
The killer matched her every step, even matching Carty's speed. The gap never closed between them, but to Carty, the mask and axe only seemed to get closer.
"Fuck you!" Carty screamed. She swung the wireless mic at the androgynous mask.
Taunting Carty, the killer dodged her swing with lackadaisical ease.
"You crazy bitch!" Carty screamed at the singer.
In an eruption of madness, the murderer raised the axe and went charging after Carty.
"No!" Carty shouted. Lowering the mic, she turned and ran toward the staircase.
Her feet splashed through her lover's blood. Hearing the singer's heavy footsteps, Carty turned and saw them gaining ground. Goddamn, he was fast!
Carty reached the stairs. With the joy of a runner completing a marathon, she put her foot on that first step in triumph. A shrill creak greeted her ears.
Right behind Carty, the killer lunged forward and swung the axe with all their might.
A nasty slice to the Achilles tendon dashed both Carty's hope at escape. She screamed in a most horrific agony as she fell onto the flight of stairs.
Slipping from Carty's grasp, the mic went flying through the air and smashed into the wall in front of her.
Helpless, Carty looked at her wound. The cut on the Achilles was rough and brutal. The mark of the axe's blade wasn't clean in the slightest.
Blood shot out of Carty's Achilles in thick spurts. A grisly sprinkler. Carty couldn't bear to look at the wound... and looking back at the hallway only meant having to see Bonnie's mutilated body once more.
Carty grabbed the cut in a pitiful attempt to stop the bleeding. Instead, all she got was a firsthand feel of a dam bursting with her own blood.
She looked over and saw the murderer step right toward her. Their axe only looked to be clamoring for more of Carty. The other side of the double bit weapon felt left out of the Achilles slash…
Overwhelmed in fear, Carty turned and tried to stand up, but the attempt only stretched her heel's hack to even greater depths. The window of the wound spread even wider, exposing bloodied muscle within her skin.
"Ah, fuck!" Carty unleashed in an awful scream.
She watched the killer stand up over her. "No!" Carty yelled. She attempted to crawl away, the damaged Achilles making Carty resemble an animal struggling to escape with a trap enclosed around its leg. Straining, she laid an elbow on the next step.
The wooden step collapsed under Carty's weight. She yelled as her arm disappeared through the busted wood. "Fuck!" Carty cried out, weary helplessness in her tone.
Sitting further away, Bonnie's camcorder filmed Carty's agony in all its visceral glory.
Taunting Carty, the killer put the axe to Carty's face.
An exhausted Carty looked on at the blood-stained mask. Its indiscernible features never failed to terrify her. The mask was somewhere between the world's creepiest mannequin and the face of a stoic high school psychopath.
"Why?" Carty asked the singer in defeat. She struggled to fight back her tears. "Why are you doing this?"
At a deliberate pace, the killer lowered the axe and leaned in closer toward Carty.
With uncomfortable fear, Carty watched them get closer. "No..." she muttered.
The singer's gloved hand reached out and stroked Carty's golden hair.
To Carty's surprise, their touch wasn't rough but gentle. Even as the glove tinged Carty's hair with a redness that mirrored the red stains scattered across the singer's mask.
Determined, Carty reached out and pulled off the androgynous mask.
Carty's expression was hit by an unsettling wave of confusion. Somehow, the situation had gotten weirder. And scarier.
Underneath the mask was a human face. The face of a middle-aged black woman. A stern, masculine face with wide eyes and hollow cheekbones. Streaks of red dye in her short hair. Her rough features couldn't hide her natural beauty. Even given her athletic frame, she could've been an unorthodox model if she ever gave a damn about dolling herself up.
The killer looked just as surprised as Carty. Maybe other victims had wanted to see what she looked like before... but no one had ever lived long enough to actually unmask the singer.
"No," Carty said in a terrified whimper. Clutching the mask, she tried to pull her arm out of the busted step. But she was trapped. Trapped with a mysterious female killer.
The murderer leaned back and raised her axe. Her eyes stared down upon Carty. Eyes more expressionless than the mask.
All Carty could do was stare back at the killer. "Please," Carty said, frightened. "Don't do-"
With primal strength, the killer sunk the blade straight into the side of Carty's neck, slicing into her precious jugular. The force of the hit made Carty's head tilt to the side.
Upon impact, the back of Carty's head collapsed onto a step, busting through the ancient wood. Much like her entrapped arm, Carty's head dangled through the shattered opening.
Grisly threads of her flesh were exposed. Blood scurried all down her body. All the way down her arms and all the way down to the mask she still held in her dead grip.
The axe still stuck straight out of Carty's neck. The other side of the weapon had finally gotten its taste of Carty.
Recovering from the kills, the murderer leaned against the stairway's railing. She stole a brief admiring glance down at Carty's corpse. Carty was still pretty after all... even after death.
As she took off her gloves with routine indifference, the killer's soft voice drifted through the room. It was the pretty voice she had earlier. Before her singing went off the rails and morphed into a demented compulsion. "Eyes without a face, got no human grace," the murderer sang with the reserved shyness of an awkward teenager at a talent show.
Finishing the chorus, she wiped sweat off her brow. Her eyes gazed over at the camcorder's beaming light.
Intrigued, the killer approached the camera, stepping through the overflowing blood. She scooped up the camcorder in excitement and tinkered with it. Even a sly smile crossed her lips.
The murderer looked over at both dead bodies. The sexy lesbian couple. The killer almost regretted killing off the two hotties. Almost. Deep down, she knew she had to. She wanted those sweet kills.
Turning her attention back to the camera, the singer played back all the footage from earlier.
Her eyes were particularly drawn to one specific scene: Carty and Bonnie's steamy farmhouse sex. The killer traced her finger along the camera's screen, right over the couple's nubile bodies. Excitement shattered through the singer's shield of coldness.
Link To eBook
submitted by unknownhorrorwriter2 to JustNotRight [link] [comments]


2020.06.08 19:25 unknownhorrorwriter2 Lesbian security cam

Link To Part 1
Still filming, Bonnie staggered through the hallway. Her steps slow. Unlike Carty, her filmmaking skills were non-existent. The footage she was shooting would've been shaky-cam quality at best or nausea-inducing at worst. Bonnie's nervous excitement was getting the better of her.
The singing was now deafening, echoing through the farmhouse without the aid of a speaker.
Relying on the camera's light, Bonnie stopped in the middle of the hallway, searching the ominous landscape for any sign of the singer.
The singer's voice was harsher. Now not so much a song as it was a mumbled compulsion.
Bonnie listened closely. She could discern the words and could finally understand the lyrics.
Eyes without a face. Eyes without a face, got no human grace...
The singer repeated this same chorus in slow, agonizing fashion.
Bonnie remembered the song. A 1983 pop song. Eyes Without A Face. But it wasn't being sung with the clear, brooding tone of Billy Idol. It sounded like a harrowing soliloquy from someone in an asylum cell. Not an eloquent ballad courtesy of Idol. This was someone's serenade to alienation. And they wouldn't stop. Hell, maybe they couldn't stop.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
The singer wasn't even bothering to hold a tune at this point. Their bitter tone just had to keep repeating those words. Those safe words. Pop music for their sanity.
Eyes without a face...
Holding on tight to the camera, Bonnie waved it around the room. But she didn't see anything. All the while, the voice continued, seemingly taunting her.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie turned and looked down the narrow hallway. The front door was now shut. No way the singer was outside. "What the Hell..." Bonnie said to herself.
Reaching out of the darkness, Carty's hand snatched Bonnie's arm.
For once, Bonnie jumped in fear. "Shit!" she exclaimed as she faced Carty.
"It's just me," Carty said in a hushed tone. The fact that Bonnie was this jumpy destroyed Carty's hope that the singing was "just the wind" or some other lame excuse.
"Damn, girl, you scared the shit outta me!"
Eyes without a face...
Hearing the singer's unnerving cover of Eyes Without A Face, Carty's frantic eyes searched the room. "Where is he?" she asked Bonnie.
Bonnie broke away from her. "Shit, I don't know!"
Carty saw the closed front door. Faint hope struck her. They had a straight shot to escape.
Your eyes without a face...
The mysterious voice was more violent and hectic on this time around. Idol's lyrics now spouted in a wild burst. A burst that came from the staircase.
Carty turned and saw Bonnie rush toward those stairs. "Bonnie, no!" Carty yelled.
Hellbent on securing the footage, Bonnie held her camera out in front of her as she made her way to the staircase. Too determined to notice how shitty her handheld filmmaking was.
"Let's get the fuck outta here!" Carty yelled after Bonnie.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Terrified, Carty ran toward the stairs. Toward Bonnie. She couldn't let the love of her life confront the eerie voice alone. "Bonnie!" she yelled.
Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie laid one foot on the first wooden step. A grueling creak erupted.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, stopping her from going further. "Bonnie, please!" Carty pleaded.
Annoyed, Bonnie pulled her arm back. "Carty, just chill!"
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Both women listened in horror. The voice was louder than ever. And the couple now realized it was coming from beneath them.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, ready to lead them off to the front door at around 100 miles per hour. "Let's go-"
The small door under the staircase burst open with great force.
Carty let out a horrified scream.
A masked person emerged from the closet beneath the staircase. A tall, slender figure. Their outfit couldn't mask what was undoubtedly evil intentions. They wore black leather gloves. A gray hooded bathrobe perfect for an occult ceremony. They made their way toward the uneasy couple.
A black paper-mâché mask with painted red streaks covered the mysterious person's face. But it couldn't hide their glowering eyes. The mask was homemade and looked faded with age. A paper-mâché recreation of a melancholy face. A face that wasn't overtly feminine or masculine. An androgynous Angel of death.
The figure's gloves tightened their grip on the handle of a double bit axe. Both ends of the vicious weapon were clean and pristine. Sharp as Hell as well.
The masked person didn't say a word or sing the Idol lyrics as they marched toward the scared Carty and Bonnie.
A horrifying realization became clear to both women: they were this singer's target all along.
Trying to play tough, Bonnie pulled Carty up on the stairs with her. "What the fuck is this!" she yelled at the figure.
Bonnie aimed the camera right at the figure.
The singer stopped a few feet away from them. They stood tall and strong, basking in the camera's glorious light.
Carty stared at the singer, petrified in fear.
"Leave us alone, asshole!" Bonnie yelled.
The singer just looked at them with those unflinching eyes.
Carty couldn't tell if the masked intruder was either studying them or challenging the couple to make the first move. Even hidden behind a robe and mask, the figure seemed too confident, Carty thought. They weren't scared like us.
"Well, what the fuck you gonna do, huh!" Bonnie hurled at the singer. "You little bitch!"
Carty looked between Bonnie and the figure, hesitant on what to do. Maybe Bonnie was being too antagonistic, but Carty had seen Bonnie's tough-butch routine work plenty of times. If there was one thing Carty was confident in, it was that Bonnie could back up that mouth.
"Yeah, you're just a pussy!" Bonnie continued to the singer. Taunting the figure, she stepped off the stairs and walked toward them. "I got your bitchass on camera now!"
To Carty's surprise, both the figure and Bonnie were the same height. Close to the same build. Minus the axe, this’d be a fair fight.
"We already called the cops," Bonnie shouted at the figure. She put the camera up toward the androgynous mask. "We got your ass too! Fucking stalker bitch!"
The masked figure's gloved hands gripped the handle tighter. Their muscles flexed through the robe. The singer belied their uneven voice with real brute strength. Any more pressure in their grip, and the wooden handle would've probably snapped in two.
Uncomfortable, Carty watched the confrontation unfold. The figure's rage seemed to accelerate with each one of Bonnie's insults.
Bonnie gave the figure a harsh shove. "Get outta the way, bitch!" Bonnie yelled.
But the singer didn't budge at all. They stood tall. Their broad shoulders were only the beginning of a sculpted frame.
Carty reached into her pocket. She felt her phone. All she needed was the perfect time pull that baby out and dial the cops. Even if she was hesitant to do so considering her and Bonnie's modest criminal record.
Ready to fight back, Bonnie raised the flashlight up toward that fucking mask. "You stupid bitch-"
In a quick and sudden movement, the singer's gloved hand snatched Bonnie's wrist.
"Bonnie!" Carty said in horror.
Bonnie tried to break free but didn't have a chance. The figure's grip was harsh and stronger than Bonnie expected. During the struggle, Bonnie dropped the camera.
It hit the ground and slid over by the first step, the camera's red record light still on. The lens pointed right at the stairway, putting the spotlight now on the frightened Carty.
Bonnie turned and looked toward Carty. "Carty, run!" she yelled.
Leaving her phone in her pocket, Carty rushed toward them. Saving her lover was more important than calling a bunch of bumpkin-fuck police officers.
Using her free hand, Bonnie tried to swing on the figure, but the blows didn't bother them in the slightest. Instead, their stoic mask just looked straight at Bonnie. No anger on the androgynous face. Just nothingness.
"Bonnie!" Carty yelled. She tried to pull Bonnie away from the clutches of the singer.
"No, go!" Bonnie screamed. She pushed Carty toward the front door. "Get out!"
"I ain't leaving you!" Carty proclaimed. Channeling her inner Bonnie, Carty raised the wireless mic like a weapon.
Acting quick, the singer threw Bonnie back against the staircase.
Bonnie tripped on the first step and busted her ass on the uncomfortable stairs. All the steps caved in slightly beneath her weight.
The singer turned and honed their gaze on Carty.
"Run, Carty!" Bonnie pleaded.
Advancing upon Carty, the figure raised the axe with the flourish of a knight unsheathing a long sword.
Overcome in fear, Carty held on to the mic and backed against a wall. The eerie mask quashed her newfound "bravery."
"Carty!" Bonnie yelled. Cringing in pain, she leaned up on the staircase. "Carty, run!"
The singer held their weapon out and traced both blades against Carty's fragile face.
"No!" Bonnie cried out. She staggered back to her feet.
Disturbed, Carty swung the mic toward the mask in a pathetic attempt at protecting herself. "Get back!" she said in a loud whimper.
With unnerving agility, the figure dodged the mic. They hoisted the axe back for the fatal blow.
"Oh God..." Carty said, helpless. She pressed her head against the wall, wishing she could dissolve into it before suffering at the hands of the double bit axe.
Bonnie rushed toward them. "Carty!" she cried.
The singer brought the axe down in a forceful swing.
Carty shut her eyes, bracing for the vicious hit.
A messy THWACK erupted in the farmhouse.
Thick drops sprayed across the floor.
Realizing she was still alive, Carty opened her eyes in confusion. Then she screamed in a bellow of distraught horror.
The axe protruded out the top of Bonnie's skull. Bonnie had gotten in front of the weapon just in time. Just in time to save Carty.
Bonnie stood still… The sheer force of the hit froze her in place. Blood flowed all down her face and body. Bonnie a fountain of flowing red water.
Weeping, Carty looked down at her hands. Another helpless scream escaped her lips. Gallons of Bonnie's blood had splattered across Carty's smooth skin.
The crimson spots resembled an incurable disease. Then again, it was. Bonnie was dead. And Carty was next.
The helplessness only further set in for Carty once the masked killer yanked the axe back out without so much as a grunt.
The effortless pull sent more of Bonnie's blood spraying across Carty's mortified face.
Bonnie's corpse tumbled to the ground. The vivid wound had split the top of her head open. Her blood and gray matter spewed out in a spilled bowl of fleshy fruit. Bonnie's face forever frozen in fear, her dead eyes looking straight at Carty.
Horrified, Carty stared at her deceased girlfriend. This wasn't the Bonnie she wanted to remember. This wasn't the sexy, confident Bonnie she'd fallen in love with. This was a slaughtered corpse.
A flurry of quick whacks from the figure's axe ravaged those final moments between Carty and Bonnie. Unstoppable, the singer swung the axe straight down onto Bonnie's face, smashing it into a hundred red pieces.
Tears falling down her face, Carty screamed. "Bonnie! No!"
The masked intruder heaved the axe back. The axe's cleanliness was now marred by thick, wet blood. Both sides of the weapon for that matter.
Quicker than a lion on the prowl, the killer turned and faced Carty. Blood and grue was all over their mask. At least now, the androgynous mask had some literal color.
But their cold eyes chilled Carty to the bone. And the killer didn't seem exhausted in the slightest. They were just getting started.
Carty knew there was nothing else she could do. She hauled ass for the front door.
The singer lunged right in front of her, blocking Carty's path.
Panicking, Carty took a few nervous steps back. "No!" she yelled at the singer. "Fuck you!"
The killer matched her every step, even matching Carty's speed. The gap never closed between them, but to Carty, the mask and axe only seemed to get closer.
"Fuck you!" Carty screamed. She swung the wireless mic at the androgynous mask.
Taunting Carty, the killer dodged her swing with lackadaisical ease.
"You crazy bitch!" Carty screamed at the singer.
In an eruption of madness, the murderer raised the axe and went charging after Carty.
"No!" Carty shouted. Lowering the mic, she turned and ran toward the staircase.
Her feet splashed through her lover's blood. Hearing the singer's heavy footsteps, Carty turned and saw them gaining ground. Goddamn, he was fast!
Carty reached the stairs. With the joy of a runner completing a marathon, she put her foot on that first step in triumph. A shrill creak greeted her ears.
Right behind Carty, the killer lunged forward and swung the axe with all their might.
A nasty slice to the Achilles tendon dashed both Carty's hope at escape. She screamed in a most horrific agony as she fell onto the flight of stairs.
Slipping from Carty's grasp, the mic went flying through the air and smashed into the wall in front of her.
Helpless, Carty looked at her wound. The cut on the Achilles was rough and brutal. The mark of the axe's blade wasn't clean in the slightest.
Blood shot out of Carty's Achilles in thick spurts. A grisly sprinkler. Carty couldn't bear to look at the wound... and looking back at the hallway only meant having to see Bonnie's mutilated body once more.
Carty grabbed the cut in a pitiful attempt to stop the bleeding. Instead, all she got was a firsthand feel of a dam bursting with her own blood.
She looked over and saw the murderer step right toward her. Their axe only looked to be clamoring for more of Carty. The other side of the double bit weapon felt left out of the Achilles slash…
Overwhelmed in fear, Carty turned and tried to stand up, but the attempt only stretched her heel's hack to even greater depths. The window of the wound spread even wider, exposing bloodied muscle within her skin.
"Ah, fuck!" Carty unleashed in an awful scream.
She watched the killer stand up over her. "No!" Carty yelled. She attempted to crawl away, the damaged Achilles making Carty resemble an animal struggling to escape with a trap enclosed around its leg. Straining, she laid an elbow on the next step.
The wooden step collapsed under Carty's weight. She yelled as her arm disappeared through the busted wood. "Fuck!" Carty cried out, weary helplessness in her tone.
Sitting further away, Bonnie's camcorder filmed Carty's agony in all its visceral glory.
Taunting Carty, the killer put the axe to Carty's face.
An exhausted Carty looked on at the blood-stained mask. Its indiscernible features never failed to terrify her. The mask was somewhere between the world's creepiest mannequin and the face of a stoic high school psychopath.
"Why?" Carty asked the singer in defeat. She struggled to fight back her tears. "Why are you doing this?"
At a deliberate pace, the killer lowered the axe and leaned in closer toward Carty.
With uncomfortable fear, Carty watched them get closer. "No..." she muttered.
The singer's gloved hand reached out and stroked Carty's golden hair.
To Carty's surprise, their touch wasn't rough but gentle. Even as the glove tinged Carty's hair with a redness that mirrored the red stains scattered across the singer's mask.
Determined, Carty reached out and pulled off the androgynous mask.
Carty's expression was hit by an unsettling wave of confusion. Somehow, the situation had gotten weirder. And scarier.
Underneath the mask was a human face. The face of a middle-aged black woman. A stern, masculine face with wide eyes and hollow cheekbones. Streaks of red dye in her short hair. Her rough features couldn't hide her natural beauty. Even given her athletic frame, she could've been an unorthodox model if she ever gave a damn about dolling herself up.
The killer looked just as surprised as Carty. Maybe other victims had wanted to see what she looked like before... but no one had ever lived long enough to actually unmask the singer.
"No," Carty said in a terrified whimper. Clutching the mask, she tried to pull her arm out of the busted step. But she was trapped. Trapped with a mysterious female killer.
The murderer leaned back and raised her axe. Her eyes stared down upon Carty. Eyes more expressionless than the mask.
All Carty could do was stare back at the killer. "Please," Carty said, frightened. "Don't do-"
With primal strength, the killer sunk the blade straight into the side of Carty's neck, slicing into her precious jugular. The force of the hit made Carty's head tilt to the side.
Upon impact, the back of Carty's head collapsed onto a step, busting through the ancient wood. Much like her entrapped arm, Carty's head dangled through the shattered opening.
Grisly threads of her flesh were exposed. Blood scurried all down her body. All the way down her arms and all the way down to the mask she still held in her dead grip.
The axe still stuck straight out of Carty's neck. The other side of the weapon had finally gotten its taste of Carty.
Recovering from the kills, the murderer leaned against the stairway's railing. She stole a brief admiring glance down at Carty's corpse. Carty was still pretty after all... even after death.
As she took off her gloves with routine indifference, the killer's soft voice drifted through the room. It was the pretty voice she had earlier. Before her singing went off the rails and morphed into a demented compulsion. "Eyes without a face, got no human grace," the murderer sang with the reserved shyness of an awkward teenager at a talent show.
Finishing the chorus, she wiped sweat off her brow. Her eyes gazed over at the camcorder's beaming light.
Intrigued, the killer approached the camera, stepping through the overflowing blood. She scooped up the camcorder in excitement and tinkered with it. Even a sly smile crossed her lips.
The murderer looked over at both dead bodies. The sexy lesbian couple. The killer almost regretted killing off the two hotties. Almost. Deep down, she knew she had to. She wanted those sweet kills.
Turning her attention back to the camera, the singer played back all the footage from earlier.
Her eyes were particularly drawn to one specific scene: Carty and Bonnie's steamy farmhouse sex. The killer traced her finger along the camera's screen, right over the couple's nubile bodies. Excitement shattered through the singer's shield of coldness.
Link To eBook
submitted by unknownhorrorwriter2 to Odd_directions [link] [comments]


2020.06.08 18:38 unknownhorrorwriter2 Idol Worship (Part 2/2)

Link To Part 1
Still filming, Bonnie staggered through the hallway. Her steps slow. Unlike Carty, her filmmaking skills were non-existent. The footage she was shooting would've been shaky-cam quality at best or nausea-inducing at worst. Bonnie's nervous excitement was getting the better of her.
The singing was now deafening, echoing through the farmhouse without the aid of a speaker.
Relying on the camera's light, Bonnie stopped in the middle of the hallway, searching the ominous landscape for any sign of the singer.
The singer's voice was harsher. Now not so much a song as it was a mumbled compulsion.
Bonnie listened closely. She could discern the words and could finally understand the lyrics.
Eyes without a face. Eyes without a face, got no human grace...
The singer repeated this same chorus in slow, agonizing fashion.
Bonnie remembered the song. A 1983 pop song. Eyes Without A Face. But it wasn't being sung with the clear, brooding tone of Billy Idol. It sounded like a harrowing soliloquy from someone in an asylum cell. Not an eloquent ballad courtesy of Idol. This was someone's serenade to alienation. And they wouldn't stop. Hell, maybe they couldn't stop.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
The singer wasn't even bothering to hold a tune at this point. Their bitter tone just had to keep repeating those words. Those safe words. Pop music for their sanity.
Eyes without a face...
Holding on tight to the camera, Bonnie waved it around the room. But she didn't see anything. All the while, the voice continued, seemingly taunting her.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie turned and looked down the narrow hallway. The front door was now shut. No way the singer was outside. "What the Hell..." Bonnie said to herself.
Reaching out of the darkness, Carty's hand snatched Bonnie's arm.
For once, Bonnie jumped in fear. "Shit!" she exclaimed as she faced Carty.
"It's just me," Carty said in a hushed tone. The fact that Bonnie was this jumpy destroyed Carty's hope that the singing was "just the wind" or some other lame excuse.
"Damn, girl, you scared the shit outta me!"
Eyes without a face...
Hearing the singer's unnerving cover of Eyes Without A Face, Carty's frantic eyes searched the room. "Where is he?" she asked Bonnie.
Bonnie broke away from her. "Shit, I don't know!"
Carty saw the closed front door. Faint hope struck her. They had a straight shot to escape.
Your eyes without a face...
The mysterious voice was more violent and hectic on this time around. Idol's lyrics now spouted in a wild burst. A burst that came from the staircase.
Carty turned and saw Bonnie rush toward those stairs. "Bonnie, no!" Carty yelled.
Hellbent on securing the footage, Bonnie held her camera out in front of her as she made her way to the staircase. Too determined to notice how shitty her handheld filmmaking was.
"Let's get the fuck outta here!" Carty yelled after Bonnie.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Terrified, Carty ran toward the stairs. Toward Bonnie. She couldn't let the love of her life confront the eerie voice alone. "Bonnie!" she yelled.
Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie laid one foot on the first wooden step. A grueling creak erupted.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, stopping her from going further. "Bonnie, please!" Carty pleaded.
Annoyed, Bonnie pulled her arm back. "Carty, just chill!"
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Both women listened in horror. The voice was louder than ever. And the couple now realized it was coming from beneath them.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, ready to lead them off to the front door at around 100 miles per hour. "Let's go-"
The small door under the staircase burst open with great force.
Carty let out a horrified scream.
A masked person emerged from the closet beneath the staircase. A tall, slender figure. Their outfit couldn't mask what was undoubtedly evil intentions. They wore black leather gloves. A gray hooded bathrobe perfect for an occult ceremony. They made their way toward the uneasy couple.
A black paper-mâché mask with painted red streaks covered the mysterious person's face. But it couldn't hide their glowering eyes. The mask was homemade and looked faded with age. A paper-mâché recreation of a melancholy face. A face that wasn't overtly feminine or masculine. An androgynous Angel of death.
The figure's gloves tightened their grip on the handle of a double bit axe. Both ends of the vicious weapon were clean and pristine. Sharp as Hell as well.
The masked person didn't say a word or sing the Idol lyrics as they marched toward the scared Carty and Bonnie.
A horrifying realization became clear to both women: they were this singer's target all along.
Trying to play tough, Bonnie pulled Carty up on the stairs with her. "What the fuck is this!" she yelled at the figure.
Bonnie aimed the camera right at the figure.
The singer stopped a few feet away from them. They stood tall and strong, basking in the camera's glorious light.
Carty stared at the singer, petrified in fear.
"Leave us alone, asshole!" Bonnie yelled.
The singer just looked at them with those unflinching eyes.
Carty couldn't tell if the masked intruder was either studying them or challenging the couple to make the first move. Even hidden behind a robe and mask, the figure seemed too confident, Carty thought. They weren't scared like us.
"Well, what the fuck you gonna do, huh!" Bonnie hurled at the singer. "You little bitch!"
Carty looked between Bonnie and the figure, hesitant on what to do. Maybe Bonnie was being too antagonistic, but Carty had seen Bonnie's tough-butch routine work plenty of times. If there was one thing Carty was confident in, it was that Bonnie could back up that mouth.
"Yeah, you're just a pussy!" Bonnie continued to the singer. Taunting the figure, she stepped off the stairs and walked toward them. "I got your bitchass on camera now!"
To Carty's surprise, both the figure and Bonnie were the same height. Close to the same build. Minus the axe, this’d be a fair fight.
"We already called the cops," Bonnie shouted at the figure. She put the camera up toward the androgynous mask. "We got your ass too! Fucking stalker bitch!"
The masked figure's gloved hands gripped the handle tighter. Their muscles flexed through the robe. The singer belied their uneven voice with real brute strength. Any more pressure in their grip, and the wooden handle would've probably snapped in two.
Uncomfortable, Carty watched the confrontation unfold. The figure's rage seemed to accelerate with each one of Bonnie's insults.
Bonnie gave the figure a harsh shove. "Get outta the way, bitch!" Bonnie yelled.
But the singer didn't budge at all. They stood tall. Their broad shoulders were only the beginning of a sculpted frame.
Carty reached into her pocket. She felt her phone. All she needed was the perfect time pull that baby out and dial the cops. Even if she was hesitant to do so considering her and Bonnie's modest criminal record.
Ready to fight back, Bonnie raised the flashlight up toward that fucking mask. "You stupid bitch-"
In a quick and sudden movement, the singer's gloved hand snatched Bonnie's wrist.
"Bonnie!" Carty said in horror.
Bonnie tried to break free but didn't have a chance. The figure's grip was harsh and stronger than Bonnie expected. During the struggle, Bonnie dropped the camera.
It hit the ground and slid over by the first step, the camera's red record light still on. The lens pointed right at the stairway, putting the spotlight now on the frightened Carty.
Bonnie turned and looked toward Carty. "Carty, run!" she yelled.
Leaving her phone in her pocket, Carty rushed toward them. Saving her lover was more important than calling a bunch of bumpkin-fuck police officers.
Using her free hand, Bonnie tried to swing on the figure, but the blows didn't bother them in the slightest. Instead, their stoic mask just looked straight at Bonnie. No anger on the androgynous face. Just nothingness.
"Bonnie!" Carty yelled. She tried to pull Bonnie away from the clutches of the singer.
"No, go!" Bonnie screamed. She pushed Carty toward the front door. "Get out!"
"I ain't leaving you!" Carty proclaimed. Channeling her inner Bonnie, Carty raised the wireless mic like a weapon.
Acting quick, the singer threw Bonnie back against the staircase.
Bonnie tripped on the first step and busted her ass on the uncomfortable stairs. All the steps caved in slightly beneath her weight.
The singer turned and honed their gaze on Carty.
"Run, Carty!" Bonnie pleaded.
Advancing upon Carty, the figure raised the axe with the flourish of a knight unsheathing a long sword.
Overcome in fear, Carty held on to the mic and backed against a wall. The eerie mask quashed her newfound "bravery."
"Carty!" Bonnie yelled. Cringing in pain, she leaned up on the staircase. "Carty, run!"
The singer held their weapon out and traced both blades against Carty's fragile face.
"No!" Bonnie cried out. She staggered back to her feet.
Disturbed, Carty swung the mic toward the mask in a pathetic attempt at protecting herself. "Get back!" she said in a loud whimper.
With unnerving agility, the figure dodged the mic. They hoisted the axe back for the fatal blow.
"Oh God..." Carty said, helpless. She pressed her head against the wall, wishing she could dissolve into it before suffering at the hands of the double bit axe.
Bonnie rushed toward them. "Carty!" she cried.
The singer brought the axe down in a forceful swing.
Carty shut her eyes, bracing for the vicious hit.
A messy THWACK erupted in the farmhouse.
Thick drops sprayed across the floor.
Realizing she was still alive, Carty opened her eyes in confusion. Then she screamed in a bellow of distraught horror.
The axe protruded out the top of Bonnie's skull. Bonnie had gotten in front of the weapon just in time. Just in time to save Carty.
Bonnie stood still… The sheer force of the hit froze her in place. Blood flowed all down her face and body. Bonnie a fountain of flowing red water.
Weeping, Carty looked down at her hands. Another helpless scream escaped her lips. Gallons of Bonnie's blood had splattered across Carty's smooth skin.
The crimson spots resembled an incurable disease. Then again, it was. Bonnie was dead. And Carty was next.
The helplessness only further set in for Carty once the masked killer yanked the axe back out without so much as a grunt.
The effortless pull sent more of Bonnie's blood spraying across Carty's mortified face.
Bonnie's corpse tumbled to the ground. The vivid wound had split the top of her head open. Her blood and gray matter spewed out in a spilled bowl of fleshy fruit. Bonnie's face forever frozen in fear, her dead eyes looking straight at Carty.
Horrified, Carty stared at her deceased girlfriend. This wasn't the Bonnie she wanted to remember. This wasn't the sexy, confident Bonnie she'd fallen in love with. This was a slaughtered corpse.
A flurry of quick whacks from the figure's axe ravaged those final moments between Carty and Bonnie. Unstoppable, the singer swung the axe straight down onto Bonnie's face, smashing it into a hundred red pieces.
Tears falling down her face, Carty screamed. "Bonnie! No!"
The masked intruder heaved the axe back. The axe's cleanliness was now marred by thick, wet blood. Both sides of the weapon for that matter.
Quicker than a lion on the prowl, the killer turned and faced Carty. Blood and grue was all over their mask. At least now, the androgynous mask had some literal color.
But their cold eyes chilled Carty to the bone. And the killer didn't seem exhausted in the slightest. They were just getting started.
Carty knew there was nothing else she could do. She hauled ass for the front door.
The singer lunged right in front of her, blocking Carty's path.
Panicking, Carty took a few nervous steps back. "No!" she yelled at the singer. "Fuck you!"
The killer matched her every step, even matching Carty's speed. The gap never closed between them, but to Carty, the mask and axe only seemed to get closer.
"Fuck you!" Carty screamed. She swung the wireless mic at the androgynous mask.
Taunting Carty, the killer dodged her swing with lackadaisical ease.
"You crazy bitch!" Carty screamed at the singer.
In an eruption of madness, the murderer raised the axe and went charging after Carty.
"No!" Carty shouted. Lowering the mic, she turned and ran toward the staircase.
Her feet splashed through her lover's blood. Hearing the singer's heavy footsteps, Carty turned and saw them gaining ground. Goddamn, he was fast!
Carty reached the stairs. With the joy of a runner completing a marathon, she put her foot on that first step in triumph. A shrill creak greeted her ears.
Right behind Carty, the killer lunged forward and swung the axe with all their might.
A nasty slice to the Achilles tendon dashed both Carty's hope at escape. She screamed in a most horrific agony as she fell onto the flight of stairs.
Slipping from Carty's grasp, the mic went flying through the air and smashed into the wall in front of her.
Helpless, Carty looked at her wound. The cut on the Achilles was rough and brutal. The mark of the axe's blade wasn't clean in the slightest.
Blood shot out of Carty's Achilles in thick spurts. A grisly sprinkler. Carty couldn't bear to look at the wound... and looking back at the hallway only meant having to see Bonnie's mutilated body once more.
Carty grabbed the cut in a pitiful attempt to stop the bleeding. Instead, all she got was a firsthand feel of a dam bursting with her own blood.
She looked over and saw the murderer step right toward her. Their axe only looked to be clamoring for more of Carty. The other side of the double bit weapon felt left out of the Achilles slash…
Overwhelmed in fear, Carty turned and tried to stand up, but the attempt only stretched her heel's hack to even greater depths. The window of the wound spread even wider, exposing bloodied muscle within her skin.
"Ah, fuck!" Carty unleashed in an awful scream.
She watched the killer stand up over her. "No!" Carty yelled. She attempted to crawl away, the damaged Achilles making Carty resemble an animal struggling to escape with a trap enclosed around its leg. Straining, she laid an elbow on the next step.
The wooden step collapsed under Carty's weight. She yelled as her arm disappeared through the busted wood. "Fuck!" Carty cried out, weary helplessness in her tone.
Sitting further away, Bonnie's camcorder filmed Carty's agony in all its visceral glory.
Taunting Carty, the killer put the axe to Carty's face.
An exhausted Carty looked on at the blood-stained mask. Its indiscernible features never failed to terrify her. The mask was somewhere between the world's creepiest mannequin and the face of a stoic high school psychopath.
"Why?" Carty asked the singer in defeat. She struggled to fight back her tears. "Why are you doing this?"
At a deliberate pace, the killer lowered the axe and leaned in closer toward Carty.
With uncomfortable fear, Carty watched them get closer. "No..." she muttered.
The singer's gloved hand reached out and stroked Carty's golden hair.
To Carty's surprise, their touch wasn't rough but gentle. Even as the glove tinged Carty's hair with a redness that mirrored the red stains scattered across the singer's mask.
Determined, Carty reached out and pulled off the androgynous mask.
Carty's expression was hit by an unsettling wave of confusion. Somehow, the situation had gotten weirder. And scarier.
Underneath the mask was a human face. The face of a middle-aged black woman. A stern, masculine face with wide eyes and hollow cheekbones. Streaks of red dye in her short hair. Her rough features couldn't hide her natural beauty. Even given her athletic frame, she could've been an unorthodox model if she ever gave a damn about dolling herself up.
The killer looked just as surprised as Carty. Maybe other victims had wanted to see what she looked like before... but no one had ever lived long enough to actually unmask the singer.
"No," Carty said in a terrified whimper. Clutching the mask, she tried to pull her arm out of the busted step. But she was trapped. Trapped with a mysterious female killer.
The murderer leaned back and raised her axe. Her eyes stared down upon Carty. Eyes more expressionless than the mask.
All Carty could do was stare back at the killer. "Please," Carty said, frightened. "Don't do-"
With primal strength, the killer sunk the blade straight into the side of Carty's neck, slicing into her precious jugular. The force of the hit made Carty's head tilt to the side.
Upon impact, the back of Carty's head collapsed onto a step, busting through the ancient wood. Much like her entrapped arm, Carty's head dangled through the shattered opening.
Grisly threads of her flesh were exposed. Blood scurried all down her body. All the way down her arms and all the way down to the mask she still held in her dead grip.
The axe still stuck straight out of Carty's neck. The other side of the weapon had finally gotten its taste of Carty.
Recovering from the kills, the murderer leaned against the stairway's railing. She stole a brief admiring glance down at Carty's corpse. Carty was still pretty after all... even after death.
As she took off her gloves with routine indifference, the killer's soft voice drifted through the room. It was the pretty voice she had earlier. Before her singing went off the rails and morphed into a demented compulsion. "Eyes without a face, got no human grace," the murderer sang with the reserved shyness of an awkward teenager at a talent show.
Finishing the chorus, she wiped sweat off her brow. Her eyes gazed over at the camcorder's beaming light.
Intrigued, the killer approached the camera, stepping through the overflowing blood. She scooped up the camcorder in excitement and tinkered with it. Even a sly smile crossed her lips.
The murderer looked over at both dead bodies. The sexy lesbian couple. The killer almost regretted killing off the two hotties. Almost. Deep down, she knew she had to. She wanted those sweet kills.
Turning her attention back to the camera, the singer played back all the footage from earlier.
Her eyes were particularly drawn to one specific scene: Carty and Bonnie's steamy farmhouse sex. The killer traced her finger along the camera's screen, right over the couple's nubile bodies. Excitement shattered through the singer's shield of coldness.
Link To eBook
submitted by unknownhorrorwriter2 to DarkTales [link] [comments]


2019.12.23 19:26 Skelter1999 [Fiction] The Old Bell Hospital

Note: This was removed from the /shortstories page for explicit content. Hope it is ok to post here. “Shhhh” Samantha hissed at Chris as he tried to squeeze his way through the space between the fence and the wall. Chris was a tall, skinny kid with broad shoulders and definitely not built for sneaking through tight spaces, but it was the only way in.
“I’m tryin’” Chris responded with a harsh whisper. “Who the hell even made this hole? It’s ridiculously small”
“Probably a crackhead” his sister, Elizabeth commented, never looking away from the Old Bell Hospital. It was called that because of the old bell tower on in the church on the grounds. For many years it was the highest point in town, up until natural gas was found in the area in the 60s. The old hospital was abandoned soon after that and a much nicer, more modern facility had been built uptown near the interstate. The Old Bell had been converted to a children’s home for a few years after that, but ultimately closed for good in the 90s. There had been attempts to sell it, renovate it or tear it down, but for now it still stood, empty, in the middle of the old part of town.
With a final metallic clang, Chris finally got through the fence, joining his sister Elizabeth, his girlfriend Samantha and Sarah, the so-called “Spooky kid” who no one really liked. Sarah had gone on ahead to try and find a way into the building, so the other three set off after her. They caught up to her soon after, trying to pry open a loose looking window with a stick.
“How in the hell are we supposed to get up there Spooky Kid?” Elizabeth asked, eyeing the window that, after much prodding, Sarah had finally managed to slide open. It had to be at least 7 feet off the ground.
“Well, we’re just gonna have to boost each other” Sarah shrugged. “Here, I’ll go first.” She walked up to the window and reached up for the ledge, which was still a few inches above her grasp. Elizabeth sighed and motioned to Chris. Chris shook his head and delicately lifted Sarah as high as he could, and she managed to scramble her way over the ledge. The three waited for a second as she made her way inside and they heard her plop to the ground inside. Samantha went next, followed by Chris with Elizabeth’s help. Finally Elizabeth, a natural athlete, jumped up and hauled herself through the window of the Old Bell Hospital.
They’d landed in a bathroom. After getting everybody in, they shone their flashlights around, but found nothing more interesting than some graffitied pentagrams and a toilet in the middle of the floor.
“Ok, so what do we do?” Chris asked in a hushed tone. His eyes were wide as he stared around the room, shining his flashlight in every direction.
Samantha shrugged. “I don’t know, look around I guess. Do you know how to get to the children’s ward?”
“Why the children’s ward?” asked Elizabeth, seated on the toilet.
“You know, the little boy” reminded Sarah.
“Oh, right. What was his name?” Elizabeth asked.
“Peter. If you call his name he’ll come out and ask you to take him home.”
“Is this another bullshit Scooby Doo story like that thing at the church?” asked Elizabeth. Then, in a lower tone, she leaned toward Sarah and added with a tone of confidentiality, “Are you trying to get Chris to finger fuck you again?”
Sarah shook her head. “Come on guys, you know this place is supposed to be haunted. You’ve heard about it all your life just like I have.”
“Yea, I guess” Samantha cast a dubious glance at Sarah. “Just don’t try to throw your cooter on my boyfriend bitch”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Ok, look” Sarah cracked open the door of the bathroom and looked both ways. There were long, dark hallways in both directions. “You guys go this way” she said, jerking a thumb to the left. “Me and Liz will go this way” she said, pointing right. “Remember, turn your recorder on, call him by name and ask him if he’s ok. If he responds, the recorder should pick it up.”
Chris raised his hand.
“Um… Chris?” Sarah asked after a few seconds. Elizabeth just shook her head.
“Why is he here again?”
Samantha elbowed him in the ribs, and Chris responded with a grunt.
“He died here” Sarah answered. “My grandma told me about it, it was a big deal when it happened in the 50s. He was a little boy, probably 4 or 5 years old. Somebody dropped him off here and never came back for him, and he was never well enough to tell them much about himself, except for his name. He died here and nobody ever claimed him, so they buried him in the little cemetery out behind the church. They say that even before the hospital closed, he used to wander around and ask people to take him home.”
Everyone was silent for long seconds. “Jesus Christ that’s fucking sad.” Elizabeth said at last. “You oughtta be a writer Spooky Kid, you make up good shit” .
A few minutes later, Samantha and Chris had gone off in one direction and Sarah and Elizabeth in the other. After the initial interest at overturned old hospital beds and penis graffiti, things got pretty boring. Elizabeth began amusing herself by looking through drawers and cabinets for…well, anything really. Sarah diligently worked, turning the recorder on to ask Peter if he was here and if he was ok in every room, but even she seemed to get bored after the first half hour or so.
She muttered to herself “Chris is probably finger banging that skank girlfriend of his”. Elizabeth perked up at this and turned to look at Sarah.
“Hey, are you serious about this ghost? You’re not trying to get Chris to finger fuck you?”
Sarah sighed. “Yea, I’m serious about the ghost. My dad and his friends go look for ghosts all the time, but he won’t take me. He says you can’t get in here to do it because of the security guards. But Tabby’s dad is the security guard on wednesdays, and he’s an alcoholic, so I’m sure he’s passed out in his car or something right now. And I just wanted to, you know, show my dad I guess…” Sarah’s voice trailed off and she turned to look out of a window.
Elizabeth nodded with understanding. “You’re not trying to get me to finger fuck you are you?”
Sarah folded her arms across her chest and cast a baleful glance in Elizabeth’s direction, then turned back toward the window. Elizabeth held up her hands defensively. “I’m just saying, that thing with me and Caroline… we were both drunk, and she was leaving for college, and we didn’t even- I mean, I don’t think-”
Sarah held up a warning hand. “Wait” She said, cutting Elizabeth off mid-sentence. She pointed out the window. There before them, illuminated only by pale moonlight stood the old St. Vincent church and the bell tower for which the hospital had been named. “The church. The cemetery. Let’s go”
Minutes later, Sarah and Elizabeth were walking in through the unlocked church doors. It was far more run down than the main hospital building, with holes in the ceiling and floor. The interior of the church was trashed, pews overturned, windows shattered. Carefully picking their way along the floor, Elizabeth asked without ever looking up, “Why are we in here?”
“Because” Sarah responded, stretching to step over a tumbled down pew, “The fence around the cemetery is really high and sharp. I think there’s a door to it in the back of the church”
Sure enough, after a quick search they found an old wooden door, barely hanging on its hinges. After easing it open, they found themselves in the midst of a very small and very overgrown cemetery. In all, Elizabeth could see about a dozen tombstones, many of them very old.
“Wow… Father Matthew Long, 1851-1908… Father Keith Garvin, 1872-1960… This must be where they buried the priests that worked here” Sarah noted reading the nearest stones.
“Look” Elizabeth said, pointing to a stone near the back. It seemed different than the rest, with a pair of cupped hands chiseled into the front. The two girls made their way to the back of the cemetery, wading through the high grass till they could squat down and get a good look at it. Elizabeth got out her cell phone and shined a light on the marker. Both of them read silently.
“Peter. We commend him into the loving hands of our father”.
With wide eyes, they looked at each other.
“Ok” Elizabeth stood up, dusting off her blue jeans with a flourish. “Too creepy. I’m out. Fuck this.”
Sarah frowned. “Just go wait inside the church.”
Elizabeth held both hands up to shoulder height as she walked away. Sarah pulled out her recorder and asked softly, “Peter, are you here?”
Elizabeth made her way back into the dilapidated old church, muttering. “Don’t know why the fuck I keep getting talked into this shit.”
She shoved her hands in her pockets and kicked at an old hymnal on the floor. It was dark inside, but the moonlight that made its way through the holes in the roof and the shattered windows lit her way well enough. She tried to pick her way through the debris the same way she did on the way in, but found the path a little harder on the way out. Trying to squeeze between a wall and a smashed up altar, she started to slip and grabbed a nearby rope to steady herself. Almost as soon as she did, she realized what she had done.
A loud, metallic clang resounded through the stillness of the night. At that moment, it sounded as loud as anything Elizabeth had ever heard. The sounds of birds taking flight followed soon after, along with a number of protesting caws. Elizabeth froze in place, cringing at the reverberating “dong” sound.
Seconds later Sarah burst through the back door of the church.
“What the fuck Liz?”
Elizabeth frowned, clenching her teeth and pulling her lips back. “Oops” was all she could say.
Meanwhile, across campus, Chris screamed. He screamed a long, loud scream. Dropping like a sack of potatoes, he clutched at his crotch and convulsed on the ground. Samantha rose from her knees, spitting blood and gasping. She wiped her mouth and shouted.
“Oh my God Chris I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, the bell rang and I- Oh God”
Samantha started hyperventilating and approached the writhing young man on the floor. “God is it bad? Let me look, let me- Oh Jesus” She reached for Chris’s hand, but found it soaked in blood. He only groaned in response. “Chris we’ve gotta get you to the car, we’ve gotta get you to a hospital, come on, get up, get up”
She stammered and struggled to help Chris to his feet. Chris, for his part, could only shudder in agony, rising to his knees before collapsing once more to the ground.
Samantha, in her haste, kicked over the flashlight they’d set on the floor, and it sputtered out and rolled across the room into the dark. “Oh God oh God” she repeated, dropping to the ground and trying to find it. Just then there came another booming noise, like the sound of a door being flung open.
“SHIT what was that?” she yelled feeling all over the ground for the flashlight. “What the fuck was that??” she asked again. Chris only moaned, trying to make his way to his feet.
Samantha, frantic, finally got her hands on the flashlight. “I found it, I found it, we’re gonna-” with shaking hands, she pounded at the flashlight, trying to will it back to life. “FUCK, come on” she growled. After a few more seconds, the light finally flickered back on. She turned back toward Chris, starting to stand. In the light, she could see that he was bleeding badly, his blue jeans soaked with blood around the crotch. He held himself with one hand while the other bloody hand propped him up against a wall. “Oh God” she muttered. “Ok, we’re gonna get you back to the car and-” she paused, listening. Over Chris’s groans of pain, she could swear she heard- footsteps. Definitely footsteps. Her heart pounded. She clicked off her flashlight.
Shushing Chris, she listened hard. The footsteps were getting closer. Slowly, slowly they approached, and with each scuffling sound her heart leaped harder. After what seemed like a long time, the footsteps stopped. Samantha whispered “Who… who’s there?
There was a long pause as Samantha stared at the doorway. Then an unearthly shriek of terror escaped her mouth as she fell backwards, clunking her head on the hard tile floor. Chris looked first at her, then to the door, then he too gasped and fell to his knees.
There, silhouetted in the doorway, was the shape of a child.
Well, it wasn’t quite a child. It was actually officer Daniel Chipmon, who, in all fairness, was a very small man. After calling an ambulance for Chris and Samantha and finding Elizabeth and Sarah, he promptly hauled them down to the police station and called their parents. By the end of his shift a couple of hours later, he was sitting in the office, telling the whole story to a group of his fellow officers.
“So I’m drivin’ by right, and I hear the bell from the old bell hospital ring. I’m thinkin’ ‘What the fuck is this?’ right?”
A few of those gathered around chuckled.
“Hey, was the security guard drunk again?” one asked.
“Oh yea. Passed out. So I go wake him up, he lets me in through the gate, and I go in there lookin’ around, and this place is creepy as shit right? So I go in, I’m lookin, and I hear like, this, screaming. Like, a guy screaming. So I draw my gun and kinda ease down the hall, and, like, I step into the door- And holy SHIT! There’s this kid layin’ on the ground bleeding from his dick, and this girl with blood all around her mouth, I don’t know, some kinda weird vampire sex cult or somethin, and she screams and he screams, and she passes out and I swear to God she shit her britches, I could smell it…”
He trailed off as the gathered group of officers guffawed.
“Wait, so she bit his dick?” asked one of the dispatchers, Leann.
Daniel shrugged. “Yea, that’s what it looked like. That’s what she said happened. I didn’t ask anymore. Poor kid, I don’t know if they’ll be able to sew that thing back together or what.” He shook his head as more laughter filled the room.
“Wait, but weren’t there two more kids?” someone pointed out between laughs.
Daniel nodded. “Oh yea, one was the boy’s sister, this ole tall redhead, normal lookin’ girl. The other, I don’t know, she was dressed like some kinda lesbo witch or something. Real spooky lookin’. I don’t know if those two were off finger blasting each other or what. They came runnin’ up, one of them rang the bell they said.” There was another roar of laughter as somebody repeated ‘Lesbo witch!’.
After a long minute of laughing, Daniel perked up, shouting. “Wait, wait, hold on, I think my body cam footage is uploaded. Watch this.”
He turned around to face his computer. After a few clicks, he had located his body camera footage for the night in the police database. “Yea, I don’t know what the hell those folks were doin’. I just called their parents and said ‘Come get your dick biting lesbian witch kids outta here’.” The office roared again.
“Ok, here we go, it was about 10:30 or so, let me see…” he clicked a couple more times and finally found what he was looking for.
“Ok, watch”. He clicked play as a half dozen of his friends gathered round. He turned up the volume on the video. They all watched as officer Chipmon made his way down the hallway, hearing the moans and groans coming from down the hall. As the sound got closer, he slowed down, pressed up against a wall. As he neared the doorway, everything got quiet, and they heard a low female voice asking “Who… who’s there?”
Then, just before officer Chipmon stepped into the doorway, there was a second voice, a low, almost imperceptibly muffled voice, but an unmistakable one. There was much debate among the gathered officers over what it said, but the best anybody could make out was something like:
“My name is Peter. Will you take me home?”
submitted by Skelter1999 to stories [link] [comments]


2019.10.11 05:22 TheSuddenTypos1210 Entitled mom and dad thinks i support LGBT because i was wearing a My little Pony shirt

So this was happend 2 hours ago and I'm still thinking about it.WARNING I'm on mobile
Cast:
Me: the brony
Em: Entitled mom
Ed: Entitled dad
Ek: Entitled kid
Ng: nice girl
S: security
Sm: store manager
The story: I was going to a store a bit far from my house ( I had nothing else to do), now I was wearing a Rainbow dash cutie mark shirt from my little pony( for those of you who lived under a rock, Rainbow dash is a blue pegasus with rainbow mane and tail with her cutie mark being a cloud with a rainbow lightning strike, A cutie mark is a mark on a pony's backside symbolizing their talents)
I was in the store buying some snacks,drink and etc. While I was picking up some coke cans, felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and I saw a middle age man staring at me angrily, a middle age anti-vax mom, and teenage boy and a little girl.
All of them were staring at me( except Ng) arm crossed,on their hips, tapping their feet. I was actually I was unfazed with stares even though I'm an introvert that hate stares but I was also wearing goggles and a gas mask ( I do graffiti) so the stares kind of cancel out
Me: kind I help you
Em then started shouting so high pitch I couldn't hear her, then she shut up
Me:.......wut.
Ed: HOW DARE YOU!!
Me: what do you mean
Em: we called security to escort you and your wicked ways out of the store
Me: WHAT ARE YOU ALL TALKING ABOUT!?
Ek: you support that wicked society, you shouldn't even exist
Then security showed up with the store manager
S: what's wrong here?
Em: we saw this boy come in the store with a LGBT shirt
S: WHAT! How dare you! Boy!
The reason S reacted that way is because I live in a country that banned LGBT
Me: what no! This is from a cartoon
Ed: OH SO NOW THEY ARE MAKING CARTOONS ABOUT THE SOCIETY!!
me: NO! IM NOT! IM ASEXUAL!
for those of you who are to lazy to research, I'll do it for you. there is
Heterosexual= like boys
Homosexual= like girls
Bi/pansexual= like both
Asexual= like neither
But they thought asexual means gay or something so they all gasp
Everyone: *GASPS
S: that's it I'm going to detain you here and call the police
Sm than takes a good look at my shirt
Sm: WAIT! is that from the show my little pony
Me: yes it is
Sm: my son and daughter love to watch that show and they keep mentioning a blue pony with a cloud and rainbow lighting and an orange pony with an apple mark ( in the show the orange pony is called Applejack). Do you anyway watch it?
Me: Yes I do this is the blue pony you're son and daughter mentioned. This is her mark
Sm: all I know is that does not mean LGBT, I'm sorry to have bother you
S backed off and apologized, while Ed, Em and Ek were speechless
Ed: No! Rainbow means LGBT
Me: if you see a rainbow in the sky will you call it gay and lesbian
Ed: what no bu-
Me: so stop messing with people when you see rainbows on them!
Em: but...but
Ng: NO BUTS! ALL OF YOU JUST LIKE TO POKE IN OTHER PEOPLE BUSINESS DO YOU!
Ek: you shut up
Ek then pushes Ng to the floor, then Em and Ek shout at Ng
Me: all of you stop
Sm: stop!
Ek then beats up Ng with Ed
S: stow it!
S then proceed to pull them off but Em block him, so I thought of the only thing I could do to help
Me *whispering sorry brother.
Pulls out a baton and runs towards them then I just saw red and ended with me on Ed who has a black eye and bloody nose, Ek backing away, bystanders watching me, Em restrain by S and Ng with Sm
I got of Ed and the police came and telling me to put my hands up after I dropped my baton
Then they took me to the police station but I got release an hour later because S,Sm took statements and the whole thing was caught on security cams The police then drove me to the store where Sm was waiting for me with a full cart of groceries
Sm: thank you for what you did Ed is in hospital, Em and Ek were escorted with police and Ng was mildy injured by ok. Here you left your grocery list in the cart so I got your cart and filled it with you groceries.
Me: no problem, oh and ban Ed,Ek and Em
Sm: I will
Then in the corner of my eye I see Ng in bandages
Ng: thank you for saving me
Ng was wearing a jacket but she open her zipper to reveal a My little pony Rarity cutie mark shirt
I just smile and wave her goodbye as the police were going to escort me home
submitted by TheSuddenTypos1210 to MoarStories [link] [comments]


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