Rate My Horror Story

It never occurred to me until just a moment ago to share my writing in various rooms besides Facebook. I’m kind of an older person, and at 30 I’ve complacently accepted Facebook as being the primary means through which to maintain contact with people (a certain percentage of whom I have never met in real life due to Farmville and FarmTown friend request hysteria). I don’t really write a whole lot, but I do read an astounding amount of information and articles online — in fact, a majority of the time I spend reading when I’m not sleeping or at work has led me to believe that if I had never spent so much time on the internet, I would positively have amassed quite a collection of books to form a personal library. Verily, I have not (though not obvious to you, the reader, because you haven’t seen my book collection). Among my favorite authors, of course, would be my own Prince of Darkness of Horror, Edgar Allan Poe. King of the short story, I’ve read plenty of his works, as well as having fully obtained a substantial amount of reading during my Goosebumps days; these two authors alone being practically the only influences I have had when it came to writing the story I’m about to post below, my style might be considered amateur. But I do believe that if I want this to be read, I should share it everywhere.

I posted this originally on My Morning Story (http://www.mymorningstory.com/) under the same user name. And so, here is my submission.

“‘It was a gruesome sight. There had to be at least sixteen bodies in the house altogether when we arrested Bronson and searched the premises. Nothing could have been as wicked as this man was in his brain. His actions have rendered the entire community silent with foreboding, and even that is putting it lightly. I believe that if this man is to be sentenced, it must be one lifetime per murder!’

The judge and the jury looked at Officer Jared as though they were solving a greater puzzle than the description he had provided. His eyewitness testimony regarding Michael Bronson’s accusation as prime suspect in the murder of sixteen adolescent children (both male and female) was compatible with the testimonies of the first responders, so the validity was compliant and provided overwhelming evidence against the accused.

The judge began her speech: ‘In the case of Bronson v. Edmonson, with a total count of sixteen charges of first degree murder, the defendant is found guilty of all crimes presented herewith.’ From here, as she had done hundreds of times before, she proceeded to name each victim and pronounced Bronson guilty. With each name, the associated family broke out in tears that one could only describe as pain beyond anything felt collectively before. Oddly enough, however, the judge made a recommendation for Bronson to undergo hypnosis. The purpose of this was so that psychologists could receive an accurate account of how each murder took place. This way, the details of the series of murders could truly be evaluated from a first-person perspective.


The hypnotist, Dr. Allyn, had prepared for the weekend for the appointed hypnosis of Michael Bronson. He spent all of Friday and Saturday reading the newspapers and online reports of the case. Understandably, he was worried. He was about to place under hypnosis a very brutal beast of a man whose sympathy for human life was as void as the expressions on Bronson’s face had been during the entire trial.

A knock at the door confirmed that the appointment had arrived. ‘Come in,’ Allyn responded. The door’s handle turned, and the door silently opened. Here stood Bronson, and a team of police officers and doctors who would evaluate everything during the hypnosis, and as such provide aural and visual witness from various, professional points of view. Allyn stood up but stood bluntly still as Bronson walked in with the usual chains and cuffs that any inmate would normally wear. Bronson, however, was not what he had expected to look like.

Unlike the towering evil he had imagined before, here stood a very well-manicured man, with a military fade and a pencil-thin mustache. He had very kind eyes, and didn’t seem to have much muscle mass at all. He stood a measly five-foot-three. Not quite as grimacing as initially thought. ‘Hello, Dr. Allyn,’ Bronson said. ‘I understand that you’ll be hypnotizing me to get grueling details about the murders. I must regret to inform you that although I have been found guilty of all sixteen murders, the pace at which each murder took place is probably going to appear to be unrealistic. I assure you, however, that I will try very hard to allow you to proceed.’ At this point, one of the doctors injected a very strong sedative straight into Bronson’s neck with- out warning, and Bronson reacted with surprising tranquility. ‘He should be ready in a few minutes,’ the doctor told Allyn.

As promised, a few minutes later Bronson was in a very relaxed state of consciousness. Allyn told the group of doctors to place him on the couch, and afterward to remain silent throughout the entire trance. They lifted him, placed him on the couch as requested, and then all took their seats and produced notepads upon which to write their personal notes. Allyn began to turn towards his desk to retrieve his pendulum, but stopped to a sudden ringing of chains and shuffling on the couch. Allyn looked and quickly became frightened upon hearing a voice that did not sound like Bronson’s, but came from his body as though it were natural. The voice began to speak in tongues, and Bronson’s soft brown eyes turned into a deep, bloodshot red and unnatural veins appeared throughout his face. The officers and doctors were quick to try to subdue Bronson, but he gained an unnatural and inhuman physical strength which quickly broke the cuffs and the chains which had bound his arms and legs. This now beastly-looking creature began to whip the heavy chains around with extreme force. The two police officers nearest Bronson were slashed into several pieces, beheaded and pooled the floor with blood almost immediately. One of the four doctors tried to run, but the beast quickly tackled him, and opened its jaws very wide, and crushed the doctor’s skull with a very gross crunching sound, then dug its claws into the chest of the now-dead doctor, and ripped the ribs apart and spilled organs everywhere.

Allyn and the remaining team quickly rushed to the door for their lives, and managed to get past the beast without injury. Just as quickly, it gave chase and jumped onto the back of the slowest doctor in the group and used its claws from both its feet and hands to gash open his back, splintering spinal bones up and down the full length, ending at the skull and knees and severing the body in half. The two police officers turned around and gripped their pistols with sweaty, shaking palms and opened fire upon the beast. They first shot at the beast’s torso, and these bullets only temporarily stunned the beast. One officer opened fire directly between the eyes and the beast fell slowly, and fought to regain its balance. The officers continued to shoot at the upper torso and head, until no movement was detected. The frightened team had returned to the brutal scene, for no reason other than to look at the beast the officers had shot at. Upon arriving, they found a short, Caucasian male with a pencil-thin mustache and one eye. The other eye was completely gone, as it had been pierced by a bullet during the execution. The upper chest cavity was a mangled, twisted mess, with broken ribs opened to reveal a heart which had stopped beating. Bronson’s body lay in a wreck on the white linoleum hall floor of the hospital.

The lights suddenly began to flicker without pattern, then altogether turned off. The emergency lights failed to activate, and the whole hallway was pitch black, with the exception of the sunlight emanating through windows on either end of the hall. ‘We have get out of here,’ Allyn said. ‘I don’t know what the hell that was, or what just happened…’ He suddenly broke down and wept in total fear. Four people were brutally slain, and neither the two police officers nor the three remaining doctors could explain what happened, even from a professional standpoint.

All of a sudden, the officers fell to their knees and emitted a shriek of pain before the sound of chains was heard very close to them. ‘The windows! Get to the windows quickly!’ Allyn shouted. They decided on the window nearest the office where they had all gathered before. They began to dash madly and one of the doctors tripped and fell. The other two ran faster after hearing a yelp of pain and what sounded like someone having their head smashed into concrete repeatedly. The yelps stopped, but the cracking and squishing sound continued for a few seconds afterwards. Allyn and the other doctor continued to run towards the window, and successfully reached it, but Allyn saw the other doctor running much faster directly towards the window. ‘Slow down!’ Allyn screamed, but the doctor appeared to ignore him. He then appeared to start slowing down, but then was shoved by an unseen force straight out of the window. Allyn couldn’t help but to look at the falling man plummeting to his death, and heard the sickening *thud* of flesh contacting the cement twelve stories below and seeing the blood and brain matter spew out of the orifices.

‘Oh, my…’ Allyn could only utter these words before a very sharp pain rushed through his sides and stomach. His lungs felt as if they were about to explode, as if they were being grasped by something. The last thing he heard was the sound of chains being swung around, so fast that they produced a whirring sound, and finally the sound reached his ear.”