Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Chapter 11

Daniel Kurtz seemed no different than any other kid who grew up in the city. He liked playing baseball in the park and hockey in the streets. He listened to his mom and dad and washed behind his ears. But Daniel was sick- sick in the head. When he was ten years old, another boy from his school caught Daniel cutting open a dead stray cat in alley. The boy told his parents, who told Daniel’s parents. His parents were worried, but figured Daniel was just curious. He swore to never do it again, and that was enough for them.
Months later, Daniel’s father caught him hiding something in his closet. It was another cat, but this was one was still alive. Daniel had cut it open and sewed it back up- but that wasn’t all. When asked why he’d do such a thing, Daniel confessed to removing the cat’s heart and replacing it with the heart he’d taken from a dead dog. Daniel’s parents had the cat mercifully put to sleep and tore their son’s room apart, finding the limbs and organs of dogs and cats hidden in his chests and drawers, as well as several rusted knives and emptied bottles of chloroform.
Daniel’s parents were horrified, and immediately sent Daniel away to a specialist. Daniel’s "problem" was diagnosed and he was heavily medicated. When Daniel returned to neighborhood the following year, he seemed very calm much of the time, almost as if he were bored with everything.
For the rest of his school years, Daniel seemed to have grown out of his disturbed behavior. He graduated from highschool and went on to medical college, eventually earning his doctorate. His family assured themselves that Daniel’s earlier actions were simply a misplaced interest in medicine. In time, Daniel went on to open a public practice in his old neighborhood. He became well known in the city for offering free medical services to the homeless and derelict who happened upon his office.
Shortly after his parents passed on, rumors began to spread about the now Dr Kurtz’s practice. Several of the homeless people who had gone to office weren’t seen leaving it until days later. Worse yet, several of them were beginning to turn up inexplicably dead. When the autopsies were completed, the coroners and forensic scientists were horrified to find several of the person’s organs had been removed- removed, and replaced with animals organs.
The police stormed into Kurtz’s office with intent to arrest him, but the doctor was gone, apparently having the foresight his actions would be found out. But as the story goes, Kurtz did not go far. He remained in the city, living on the same streets as his victims. Every few months or so, the police would find another of Kurtz’s victims, a corpse with human parts removed and replaced animals organs- and over time, even animals limbs.
But more disturbing yet, reports began to come in of a twisted form of a man skulking about in the alleys and sewers of the city. It walked like a man, but upon feet of hooves, with the scaley arms of an alligator, the horns of a goat, the arching back of a bear, and the tail of a snake trailing behind. So people began to believe that Kurtz had created the human and animal beast he’d been trying to create all his life- or, more horribly yet, that Kurtz had made himself into this grissly Chimera.

Monday, August 22, 2005

Chapter 10

Behind a fancy diner in western Demont a middle aged, very badly kempt man rummaged through a poorly locked dumpster. The man wore a loosely fitted army jacket and black sunglasses, a white tipped cane hung from his right wrist. "Lessee," the man spoke only to himself. "Tonight, we gots a half eaten steak sammich, with a side of discarded riblets... and do my eyes deceive me? A quarter clice of death by choclit cake?" the man smacked his lips almost comically as he gathered the scraps of food up.
"Enough for three, Bob?" a low, grating voice called out behind him. The man whirled around to find a familiar, black masked face glaring into his own visage.
"RAM!" Bob exclaimed, stumbling back into the dumpster’s metal rim. "Shiite! Why the fuck you always do that t’ me, huh?"
"Because it’s funny," Ram grimaced at Bob beneath his mask. As Ram stepped out of the shadows, Bob noticed that his costume was now draped and covered by a long, leather looking cape.
"G- going for a new look?" Bob tried to jest, though his stutter gave away his fear. "Hey- why did you say "three?"
"I brought company," Ram told him, gesturing behind him at a bulky silhouette still standing in shadows. Bob could only make out a pair of pointed ears and the glimmer metal before nodding nervously.
"Ho-okay," Bob wrung his hands around his cane. "Look- I’m not stupid. I’ve seen you clean the clocks of three goons at once."
"Clean the clocks of three goons at once." the shadowed figure repeated jest fully. "Wow, this guy is like a bad Dick Tracy character."
"Hey, I’m just saying-no run around this time," Bob told them. "Whatever you need, just ask and I’ll tell you. For... you know... the usual price."
Rick, cocked his head to one side, the let his left hand slip out from beneath his cape, holding a hot sandwich in a plastic box.
"Arby’s roast beef?" Bob asked hopefully.
"Jumbo size," Ram confirmed.
"With cheese?"
"Yes,"
Bob eagerly took the sandwich. "Okay, shoot."
"Some children went missing this week, Bob, kids who lived on the streets in Shinbone." Ram told him. "I need to know who these kids are, or who has them, or- what the hell- both."
Bob stuffed the sandwich into his coat, suddenly looking very sullen. "Look, I’ve got no love for any costumes, especially YOU, but I say this outta what little professional courtesy I have- stay outta this one."
"And why would you want me to do that, Bob?" Ram narrowed his blank eyes into thin slits.
"You and I both know Demont can be a dark place to live if you don’t have the money to stay in one o’ the ivory towers," Bob told Ram, tapping his cane against the dumpster. "You and I also know that in this city, there ARE real monsters, and not monsters like guys like Jonah Cash- naw, I mean of the boogeyman variety. The kinn’a horrors parents used to use to keep their kids in line."
"I’ve already met my share of those," Ram said, recalling with no pleasure his run ins with the all too real Grim Reaper.
"But you haven’t met THIS monster," Bob told him, getting out a cigarette and a lighter. "Look, you paid the fee, so I at least owe you a story. It’s a story the homeless bums from Shinbone to the Blitz Bridge know from experience."
Bob lit his cigarette and took a long, deliberate puff from it. "It’s the story of Dr. Chimera."

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Chapter 9

Maria woke up with a start, feeling as if she’d been tossed into a vat of cold water. She cried out, her voice echoing into the uncertain darkness that surrounded her. Cold sweat ran down her brow and her eyes darted around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She could see nothing, nothing but the uncertain darkness.
Maria tried to move, but her arms were bound behind her back, her ankles bound together and tied stiffly to the floor. She tried to roll over onto her other side, her left cheek cold and wet from the stone floor she’d slept upon. Pushing with as much effort as could muster, she managed to shift herself onto her right side. "Diego..." she rasped, straining to see the outlined form of her brother. "Diego, are you there?"
There was a shifting sound, and Maria began to hear Diego’s heavy breathing. "Yeah," he answered back weakly. "I’m here, sis."
"Diego, where are we? Why can’t I move?" Maria asked, panic rising in her throat.
"I dunno," he said, his own voice straining with anxiety. "I woke up a few minutes ago, I can’t..." there was a pause and the sound of chains shaking. "He put us in chains, Maria. God... I’m sorry. You were right. We should never have trusted him."
"You’re damn right we should have never trusted him!" Maria half shouted. "I knew from the get go this was going to be a snow-job, but this-"
Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, a cold sense of dread spreading through them both. "We need to get out of here." Maria said simply, turning over onto her left side again. "Try to scoot over to me." Diego began to shuffle backward across the floor, until his bound hands were touching his sister’s. Maria strained to bend her hands back, fumbling as she tried to grasp the chains that bound him.
"It’s no use, Maria, they’re locked." Diego told her, but Maria kept picking at the chains regardless. They heard steps, and they both froze, their heart rates increasing. There was the sound of a rusted lock shifting, and bright light came streaming into their room, nearly blinding them.
Maria squinted, attempting to discern a form of some kind between the blinding light. All she could make out was a dark silhouette, a form stooped over as it had a hunch. Between it’s legs, Maria swore she saw a third limb swinging about, and she realized with a start of fright that it was some sort of tail.
"Were these the best you could do?" a voice echoed, as it was speaking through a helmet.
"They are in excellent health," a voice Maria recognized answered. "And are completely unattached. The authorities may have a fleeting interest in their disappearance, but only fleeting."
The two children heard what sounded like the clopping of hooves against the floor as the hunched form came closer to them. Maria felt a wet, scaley pair of fingers pinch her cheek, and she shuddered without control. "Well... beggars can’t be choosers... can they sweety?"
In that moment, Maria found herself almost longing for a cold night on the streets.