onsdag den 27. oktober 2010

Zeke, Ugly Jack And A Suitcase, Part 2

 Mezzofinelli was an assassin. In fact, he liked telling people, he was the most dangerous assassin on this side of the ocean. When people asked him which ocean he meant, he would simply reply "All of them." He had shot a man from more than a mile away, right between the eyes. He had killed no less than three of his colleagues in a single night. He had beaten a heavyweight boxer to death with his bare fists. Granted, he had walked away with a black eye and three broken ribs, but at least he had walked. All in all, he fancied himself a pretty dangerous guy. So why, he wondered, was he having so much trouble getting hold of a briefcase?

Mezzofinelli was born from his Italian mother who had fled Italy in 2080, a month after the Intercontinental War had started. In the cold, cramped depths of a ship headed for Sussex, she died in labour and Mezzofinelli was born screaming and motherless into a strange and tumultuous world. His earliest memory was of a man - a giant clad in white - who carried him onto shore. He remembered the taste and smell of the sea; salty and sharp. It burned in his nose and throat. He remembered little else of his first years. He knew that the giant in white (probably a sailor from the ship) had taken him to the nearest orphanage and left him there.

onsdag den 13. oktober 2010

Zeke, Ugly Jack And A Suitcase, Part 1

Harold Roberts was a 31-year-old businessman. He lived in London, he owned a Volvo S60, his watch was a golden Rolex and he sorely regretted stealing the briefcase he was currently clutching in his well-manicured hand. That is to say, he didn't regret stealing the suitcase as much as he regretted stealing the money inside it. He was fairly certain that Chris R. felt much the same way. He probably missed his two million pound sterling something fierce. Harold's pinstripe suit was stained and torn, and his Italian loafers were covered in mud as he fled through the backstreets and alleyways of Brixton.


"Bloody Polacks," Zeke said, taking a bite of his pizza. He glared at the men across the street through the car window. They wore orange vests and safety helmets, and from their labor came clatters and bangs as their hammers and picks smashed down the walls of an old, abandoned house. "They come wanderin' in 'ere, takin' all the jobs meant for proper English blokes," he said, turning towards Ugly Jack. "This country's a right bloody mess, innit?"
Ugly Jack grunted in agreement. A dusty leather jacket covered his broad frame, and a pair of black sunglasses covered part of the bulldog-like face that had earned him his nickname. He kept his black hair cropped close to his scalp, a pair of impressive sideburns framing his face. Ugly Jack never talked much, but Zeke, his partner in crime, more than made up for his near constant silence. Zeke was the polar opposite of his companion. He was short and wiry, always equipped with an ill-fitting suit, a fedora and a mouth that never stopped working. 

Author's note: This is the first part of a possibly ongoing series. More to follow.

mandag den 11. oktober 2010


Author's note: This story was heavily, heavily inspired by a passage from "The Drawing Of The Three", the second book of the Dark Tower series, written by Stephen King. 

The fever has taken a terrible hold on him. It courses through his veins, poisons his body and sickens his mind. Everything seems wrong, warped, reality slowly slipping away, leaving only shadows and whispers. The forest is dead, the ashen remains covering everything. The world seems to


the sun stings him, cold and merciless. He shivers and coughs into his hand, and red droplets stain the skin. His gaunt, bony hands shake as he pulls his cloak tighter around his emaciated frame. He walks on, towards the mountains. They frame the horizon like the pointed, blackened teeth of a great maw, longing to devour. In his fevered mind, they are his doom and his salvation. In his fevered mind, they


backwards, the hands grasping at his clothes. He falls, hard, his breath fast and ragged in his chest. He shuffles backwards. The ground rises and falls beneath his trembling limbs. His movement kicks up clouds of dust, and it stings his eyes. It enters his nose and his throat. It fills his ears, robbing him of his senses. The man that is not a man shrieks, and it shakes reality. Darkness descends, and the lights


the scream never stops tearing tearing tearing through his head. The man that is not a man that is not a man that is not a man always screams. He can't see it, he never has, he never will, but he knows. He has never known and always known the screaming screaming screaming. It has hidden behind his thoughts, always screaming. It has hidden behind everything and nothing. The screaming is the source, the core, the truth. The scream continues and enters the final


as mountains collapse, darkness shines and light freezes, the world ends.

torsdag den 7. oktober 2010

Hey guys, apologies for the lack of updates this past week. Been under the weather, and still am, but updates should resume as usual next week. Might write something saturday or sunday, but no guarantees. Have a great weekend.

 - David

lørdag den 2. oktober 2010


Tonight's story will be a little unusual. It's something I experienced tonight, and it basically freaked me out. So here you go.

I was just looking around the internet, seeking cheap thrills, and I stumbled upon some creepypasta. Being a big fan of creepypasta, I started reading. The first one I read was this:


And then this:


Now, if you've read those two, read on. If not, go take a look at them.

Ready? Excellent. On with the story.

My interest piqued, I started looking around for the aforementioned game, "Killswitch". After a bit of searching, I actually found a .rar called "Killswitch (1989) (Karvina Computing)". I downloaded it, promptly crashing my browser. I unpacked it, which caused 7zip to crash. Slightly freaked out, I opened the folder and looked for an exe file. I found one.


Getting severely freaked out, I opened an unnamed .txt file, hoping to find some explanation. All it said was this:

you cannot install me
but if you must
enter in the 2nd number in the 3rd collumn on page 6 of the manual

I have not found a manual of any sort, and I have yet to try and install the game.

Not sure if I'm gonna do it.

What do you say? Yes? No? Let me know in the comments section. Or don't. Whatever you feel like.