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For Your Demonic Needs!
1,254 Posts
Discussion Starter #1
Not sure if I will be able to post the whole thing in 1 feel sweep but I'll try. [EDIT: Okay it was too long so its in 2 parts but all here.] This is my third draft. I'm also going on the assumption that the site auto filters language, though I will check after posting. Reader discretion is advised. No sexual content; not my style. Please Enjoy!

THE NIMERAY Part 1: Emergence

Sheriff Augusta started his day with the same usual routine his father had implemented when he'd been Sheriff – upon entering the station every morning he greeted Mrs. Maplewood with a smile and compliment, usually about her hair. She, in turn, would gently pat her gray, over-sprayed hair and return the smile. She then gave him a fresh cup of coffee and updated him on what had happened overnight.
"There was a flat tire two miles down the highway, a handsome young businessman... but a rude little prick. And of course, Mr. Clemente had to be escorted home from the bar again."
Home for Mr. Clemente was most often cell 4 at the end of the hallway in the back. Augusta leaned over and rested his elbows on the counter. Mr. Clemente was as close to a local historian as they had there and he always had some story he would bring up on his nightly drinking binges.
Augusta chuckled knowingly. "What was his story this time?" He took a sip of his coffee and nearly spat it back out. It was really strong and she'd forgotten to add sugar again. His father would have loved it.
"Oh it wasn't like his normal stuff. Heard him talking some when Deputy Walton brought him through the door," Mrs. Maplewood said with an exaggerated shudder.
"Oh, yeah. What about?" Augusta asked. He glanced over at the window and a rather large cockroach caught his eye, sitting motionless on the wall next to the frame. It reminded him of one he had seen earlier on his car, a brown and tan '77 Buick Century station wagon that he was rather proud of. It seemed to have been watching him, even following him, crawling along the roof after he closed the gate and got in to leave. It even stopped when he did. He hadn't thought about since then, as he figured it had blown off on the way to the station. Now he wondered if this was the same roach he'd seen earlier.
"Well, Sheriff, I didn't get to hear all of it. Deputy Walton said it was nonsense. But I did hear him say something about cockroaches. You know, your dad, rest him, hated those things with a passion."
Augusta looked back at her. "What?" he asked, alarmed. Cockroaches...the coincidence was strange. An unexplainable sense of unease swept over him and his tongue got a light tingling sensation.
"Oh yes. He said to be careful of them. That's all I heard before he was taken in the back," she said.
Augusta looked back at the window. There were now three cockroaches huddled together on the wall. They were also motionless. Augusta walked slowly over to them to get a closer look. He saw varying shades of brown and tan and some strange markings on their backs... together, like they were, the markings almost seemed to match up so that they formed the shape of an eye. But, he thought, shaking his head, it must have been too early. As he watched, the markings moved. They shifted as if the eye turned to look at him. Horrified, he tried to turn away, but he couldn't even blink; he was frozen in place. The eye opened wider, and he could feel his blood turning to ice and his tongue almost went numb.
"Mornin' Sheriff!"
"Ah ****, Walton!" Augusta yelled, turning, freed from his strange hypnosis. Walton had just came out from the back where the cells were.
“Sorry, Sheriff. I was just comin' to see if you were here yet. Mr. Clemente was askin' for ya." Walton said. Augusta swiveled around but the roaches were gone.
"Never ceases to amaze me how that man can drink himself to a stupor and wake up five hours later, full o' sunshine as if nothing happened." said Mrs. Maplewood.
"Must be the Irish in him." Walton said laughing.
"Can it, Walton." Augusta said disapprovingly. "I'm gonna go talk to Clemente real quick. You need a ride home Walton?"
"Yeah. Nancy 's got the car."
"Alright, I'll be right back." Augusta said, walking into the hallway. The door slammed loudly shut behind him.
Augusta walked briskly to cell 4. "Morning Mr. Clemente. I hear you want to talk to me. What about?"
Clemente stood up, grabbed his hat and walked out of the cell. He didn't look at Augusta until he finally spoke.
"You've seen them, Sheriff, just as your father did." Clemente said, his voice sounding very dry, almost as if he had gargled with sand.
"What are you talking about?" Augusta asked in hopeful denial.
Clemente's normally cheerful demeanor reappeared suddenly out of nowhere. "I saw an old friend of yours last night. He showed up at the bar complaining about having had a flat tire. Had a few choice words for Deputy Walton." Clemente laughed and then suddenly ran, leaving Augusta standing silently in the hallway feeling rather confused. Despite his obvious lack of youthfulness and slightly squat figure, he covered a lot of ground really quickly.
Augusta's reflexes finally showed themselves after the instant of surprise passed. He ran down the hallway after Clemente out to the main office only to find that he was gone.
"Where the hell'd he go?" he said loudly.
"Where'd who go, Sheriff?" Maplewood asked. Walton was sitting next to the door looking just as confused as Maplewood.
"Clemente! He just ran out here, just a minute ago!" Augusta said.
"Uh, Sheriff? He made it home last night. His home, not our home... uh, here." Walton said.
"Are you okay, Hun?" Maplewood asked. Augusta shook his head.
"Yeah I'm fine. I... um...I'm sorry, I thought I saw Mr. Clemente, but I think it was just... you know, I haven’t been sleeping very well lately, I probably just need some sleep." he said, laughing weakly, hoping that would be convincing enough to explain everything.
"Hey, Sheriff, if you wanna go home 'n get some sleep you can. I'm pretty buzzed up on that new expresso machine we got. I'll cover for you today." Walton said.
Augusta looked at them both and heaved a sigh, trying to size up if he had just had one hell of a hallucination or if they were playing a joke on him. He knew that the only way he could find out was to go by the bar to see if Clemente's beat up old Chevy was there. Maybe it would be better to stop by his home and see him first. Augusta decided to just go in a big loop starting with the bar.
"Thanks, guys, no, I'm fine. C'mon Walton, lets get you home. I think you've had enough coffee. Don't want your heart to burst. I'll be back in a while, Mrs. Maplewood. Thanks for the coffee. Was delicious." he lied not wanting to hurt her feelings.
Augusta went by the bar Clemente frequented, but his car wasn't there. The only place left was his house. Walton sat next to him, smiling without saying a word, and smiling like a dog who loves car rides. He was shaking his legs and tapping his fingers, presumably to some random song in his head. Augusta hit the gas a bit more to drown out the annoying tapping sound. He wished his radio worked.
Clemente never drove on roads with street lights unless he had to. He claimed they weren't as safe but gave no explanation other than that "sometimes its safer in the dark". Therefore Augusta shot down the dusty, winding roads, 8 cylinders roaring and the wind whipping through all five of the open windows.
“There's no way Clemente could make it home before we get there,'” Augusta thought. The sooner they got there, the sooner he could find out what happened. They got to Clemente's house and his car was sitting in the driveway. Augusta parked and got out. He walked over to Clemente's car and carefully felt the exhaust pipe only to find it cold. "Uh, Sheriff. Why are we here? Though you were takin' me home." Walton asked suddenly realizing he wasn't at his house. He wiped the sweat from his head and squinted at Augusta with his mouth hanging open.
Augusta thought hard for a reasonable explanation and stated simply, "I had a bad dream."
Walton looked around at the dusty, uninviting landscape surrounding them that was Clemente's property. "Was it about Clemente?" he asked.
Augusta stood up and nodded before he began walking up to the run-down shack of a house Clemente called home. The front door was open and after an unanswered knock they entered. The screen door creaked loudly and stuck open on the warped boards of the porch. "Mr. Clemente?" Augusta called out.
"C'mon, Sheriff. He's probably asleep." Walton said.
"No. He's always awake by now." Augusta said. He felt very tense and the air was heavy.
"Oh, you don't know that." Walton said grabbing Augusta by the arm.
Augusta turned to him and said, "Don't give me that. We've known Clemente all our lives. The guy wakes the god damn sun up." Walton let go of his arm. "Tell me this Walton. Where is the smell of chorizo and eggs?" Augusta asked. “Clemente always eat the same thing for breakfast.
Walton said nothing as they walked down the short hallway that ran down the center of the house ending at window next to the kitchen. When they entered the living room they saw Clemente laying face-up on the floor. Augusta rushed over to him and checked for a pulse. Clemente was cold and rigor mortis was set in. "He's dead." Augusta said sadly.
"Ah, god dammit." Walton said. He bent down and picked up Clemente's worn out grey panama hat and handed it to Augusta. Augusta held it in his hand and dusted it off before he bent down and placed it on Clemente's chest. He reached up and ran his fingers over Clemente's eyes to close them. Just as he was pulling his hand away another huge cockroach crawled out of Clemente's mouth. Augusta jumped to his feet and nearly knocked Walton over.
"What the Hell, Sheriff! What happened?" Walton exclaimed.
Augusta grabbed Walton and forced him to look at Clemente's body. "You see that?" he yelled, pointing.
"What? The roach?" Walton asked and laughed.
"Yeah the ****in' roach." Augusta said.
"Now Sheriff, I've never seen you scared by a roach before. Sure its a big'un but still." Walton said.
He started to speak again but a rustling sound came from Clemente's mouth and both men looked down. Five more of the huge roaches crawled out of Clemente's mouth. The first roach had positioned itself over Clemente's left eye, another over his other eye. They stepped back as the other four came to rest in the shape of a smile over Clemente's mouth.
"Uh, Sheriff." Walton said.
"Yeah." Augusta said.
"I'm scared of those roaches." Walton said.
"Me too. Lets just back out slowly and leave. We need to get a hold of Doc Haddon." Augusta said as he left the living room back into the hallway.
"What the hell can he do?" Walton asked.
"Maybe he's heard about this kinda thing before. Or... or..." Augusta trailed off as he heard the floor creek at the other end of the hallway. He turned slowly and looked behind him.
In the dust filled light streaming through the window stood the silhouetted figure of some misshapen creature. A creature whose body engulfed its head, leaving only its spindly arms and legs jutting out like week roots sprouting from a shriveled potato. Its face was mostly hidden in the shadow it cast on itself and the dust floating in the ray of sunlight that surrounded it. "Or... something... Hey, Walton." Augusta said without looking away.
Walton turned around and began to speak but stopped when he saw the same thing. The two men stared at it for a second with little sound nor action between the three of them until... Until the creature lunged forward and began running awkwardly towards them, grunting as it ran. A sound that was reminiscent of a boar that had swallowed a rusty-hinged screen door. The two men screamed and ran, knocking each other down onto the porch as they both shoved their way through the screen door.
They scrambled off the porch before they were able to get back onto their feet. They stopped halfway to Augusta's wagon and turned, noticing that nothing had followed them out the door. They stared at the door ready to run.

For Your Demonic Needs!
1,254 Posts
Discussion Starter #2
The rest of the story


"**** was that?!" Walton yelled, startling Augusta.
"Jesus, Walton." Augusta said loudly. They shuffled around in the same spot spouting out ideas of what they might have seen. A loud bang from inside the house made them stop and once again stare silently at the house. A moment passed and Augusta thought to himself, 'Get to the wagon.' and he turned, grabbing Walton on the way, and dragged him as he walked. "Get in." He said. He was just about to get in when he noticed Walton staring off into the distance near where the road met with Clemente's long, curved driveway. Augusta turned and saw a car sitting on its roof.
"Hey Walton?"
"Yeah, Sheriff."
"Do you remember that being there?"
"Get in. Lets go check it out." Augusta said and he got in taking one last look at Clemente's house.
With a very confused Walton in tow, Augusta hurriedly turned around in Clemente's yard and drove out to the mysterious car wreck. Once there, Augusta flipped on his lights and blocked both lanes. They got out and approached the mangled vehicle. With both of the front and rear ends pulverized it was nearly unidentifiable. However, it wasn't long before Walton spoke up.
"I know this car. He shoulda been halfway through the next state by now." He said.
"What are you talking about?" Augusta asked.
"I changed his tire last night. He wasn't even on this road." Walton said.
"Where was he?" Augusta asked.
"He was just passed the last exit on the highway." Walton said. “I had to go backwards a mile 'n a half on the shoulder just to get back.”
"****, that’s all the way on the other side of the county. When was this?" Augusta asked.
"Uh, around five, give or take." Walton said and he started making his way slowly around to the back of the car.
"He would have had to make a U-turn and driven against traffic to get back here by now, and even then he wouldn't have had time for this." Augusta said inspecting the drivers side door which was sitting free of the rest of the car in the middle of the road. He got up and walked over to the car, holding his hand over the exposed underside of the engine. Feeling no heat he touched the engine. “What the hell. Engines cold.” He said.
"Sheriff, SHERIFF!" Walton yelled. Augusta ran to the back of the car. What he saw made ice run through his veins.
The driver of the car was shredded in two with the top half missing. Most of the soft tissues of his mid-section were smeared all over the the road in a messy trail leading off to the side of the road. They followed the trail that lead to a deep part of the ditch. Once there they found what was left of the top half of the man's body. Most of his head, including his face was stripped of all flesh, eyes and lower jaw missing, and pieces of his skull were laying on the ground. They climbed down and got a closer look. His head was covered in teeth marks. Augusta grabbed the mic on his shoulder and said "Hey, Mrs. Maplewood. Are you there?"
After a couple of seconds the radio clicked and a voice came through. "Yeah, Sheriff. What can I do for you?"
Augusta stood up and looked around before he replied. "Mrs. Maplewood, I need you to get a hold of the next county over and tell them that we have an emergency situation of here."
A click later, "What should I tell them is going on?" Maplewood asked.
"Uh, it seems we might have a psychopath on our hands.” Augusta said.
“C'mon Sheriff. That wasn't no man we saw!” Walton said.
“Shut up!” Augusta spat.
“What was that?” Maplewood asked.
Augusta hadn't let go of the receiver fast enough. “Well it might have been some kind of animal, but we saw something that looked human... ish... Look don't tell them that. Just tell them that we got an out of state murder victim and it's pretty damn gruesome.” Augusta said.
“On it now Sheriff.” Maplewood said.
“You know that weren't no man we saw, Sheriff.” Walton said.
“I know it wasn't. But we can't get help if we tell them that we saw some kind of monster now can we?” Augusta said. Despite the heat and lack of any breeze he felt cold.
“I don't know, Sheriff. What'd you think we should do? I mean, that thing we saw could still be in there with Clemente. Or it could be out here with us.” Walton said.
Augusta looked around again. He had the distinct feeling that they were being watched. “I don't know what to do.” He said. “Just give me a second to think.” and with they walked back up to the road. Augusta crouched down and looked inside the car. There was blood everywhere. He noticed that the seat belt was still fastened and a piece of the windshield was imbedded in the seat with a shred of flesh hanging from it. He reached down and picked up the rear view mirror but dropped it when he saw another one of those huge cockroaches sitting on it. The roach dropped off and ran away to the back of the car and crawled through a hole in the shredded roof. Augusta jumped back and landed on the pavement.
“What! What is it?” Walton yelled as he ran over. He drew his gun and aimed it at the car.
“Just another one of those damn cockroaches.” Augusta said.
Walton replaced his gun and reached out to help Augusta to his feet. “I hate those things.”
“Yeah, me too.” Augusta said. He looked around again. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, but he couldn't see any other cars or people.
“What the hell's goin' on here, Sheriff?” Walton asked.
“I don't know.” Augusta said. He felt tense and alert. The quiet road and lifeless landscape cast an eerie atmosphere of being alone on both of them. Walton stood staring silently at the mangled and bloody car. Augusta also stared at the car until his blood ran like ice again. It was then that he looked back to Clemente's house. Standing on the porch was the creature they'd seen earlier and it was staring at them.
“Walton... Walton!” Augusta said. He didn't take his eyes off the creature.
“What.” Walton said looking up but turning his gaze in the same direction as Augusta. “Oh, ****, Sheriff.”
“Don't move.” Augusta said. “I'm gonna go get my rifle from me wagon. You stay here behind the car and keep an eye on that thing. You see it move start shooting.”
Augusta walked carefully in fear that any quick movements might provoke an unwanted reaction from the creature. He watched out of the corner of his eye until he got to the back of his wagon. He turned and reached inside through the open gate window and lifted a heavy canvas cover to reveal his personal collection of weaponry, most of which was inherited. He grabbed a rifle and a box of shells, but just as he opened the box...
“Hello, Sheriff.” a gruff, dry voice said.
Augusta looked up and saw Clemente leaning against the side of his wagon. “I just saw. You were dead in your house.”
“I am dead.” Clemente said very calmly.
“B... but you died.” Augusta said looking Clemente over.
“Yeah that happens to me a lot.” Clemente said with a smile.
Augusta moved closer and looked him in the eyes. All of the colour was gone from Clemente's retinas and the blood vessels were blackened.
“You done?” Clemente asked.
“What the **** is going on here Clemente?” Augusta asked. He was unsure what to think really as he glared at the dead man standing before him. He'd known him his entire life and he had been one of his dad's closest friend.
“Augusta, listen to me. I don't have much time right now.” Clemente said.
“Just tell me then.” Augusta said. He knew well enough that when the situation demanded speed then to give it what wants, no matter how weird it may seem.
“They're called Nimeray. That thing you saw in my house that's staring at you now. I'd been hoping you’d never have to deal with them. They usually start when you're younger. Made me think he'd gotten rid of 'em.” Clemente explained. His arm made creaked and snapped as he put his hat on.
“Who?” Augusta asked.
“They're watching you. Watch the roaches.” Clemente said. “You'd better load that rifle and get back to Walton.”
“What? Thought who had gotten rid of them?” Augusta asked as he looked down to load the rifle. He didn't hear anything and when he looked back up Clemente was gone.
“Sheriff... Sheriff?” cried Walton.
Augusta, with rifle loaded, ran back over to the wreak and aimed at the creature.
The Nimeray had moved from the porch to the ground, but that was it. It stood there in the sunlight wobbling around as if it were severely intoxicated. They could finally see it more clearly. It's skin was pure white except for around its eyes, nose, and mouth where it had a pinkish raw colour. It's eyes were the size of golf balls and were black and bulging from its head like the eyes of a half squished rat. It's nose was sunken in and shaped like the nose of a skeleton with thin flesh stretched over it. Its lips were like thin, lumps of flesh, dried and limp while it's mouth was formed into a permanent exaggerated frown. The overall look of the Nimeray was that of a spindly-limbed, misshapen egg with a long skull face and covered from top to toe with stretched skin. It's wobbling became more and more of a jerking motion the longer they watched it. In a matter of moments it began shaking and jerking and making grunting noises.
“What the **** is it, Sheriff?” Walton asked.
“Its called a Nimeray. Clemente told me that.” Augusta said.
The Nimeray suddenly stopped its jerking, went silent, and turned to face them directly. Both men felt ice in their veins and their hearts in their throats as it stood there gazing at them. The sounds of whispers and distant, inaudible screams took over the quiet that had enveloped them. With instinctual response they let the bullets fly as it charged awkwardly towards them. Despite the ungainly gate it was covering a lot of ground. It got half way up the driveway before it lost its momentum and stopped. It turned away from them and faced the glaring sun putting its arms up over its face. They stopped firing at it and watched. After standing there for a second the screams and whispers got louder and then silence as the creature disintegrated. Augusta and Walton looked at each other, confused. They left the safety of the wreak and walked up to the pile that was the Nimeray.
“What the hell happened to it?” Walton asked as Augusta bent down to examine the remains.
“I don't know, but these look like cockroach egg sacks.” Augusta said.
“They can't handle being out in the sun for too long. Too much light at once.” Clemente said popping up out of nowhere again. Walton turned and saw Clemente standing there behind them holding a cockroach in his hand. “Morning, Deputy. It's called 'es-presso' by the way.” Clemente said and then ate the cockroach. In response Walton pointed at Clemente and laughed just before passing out.


For Your Demonic Needs!
1,254 Posts
Discussion Starter #3
Feed back Please. I'm nervous as this is the first time I have ever presented to the public my work like this. This first part was a bit toned down, meant mostly as an introduction to the story line and characters within it.

Thank you!

Mad Monster Maker
2,673 Posts
Hi Keys. I'd like to give you some feedback, but preface it with this:

I'm not a writer, although I'm planning on giving it a try. I have read quite a bit of horror and science fiction. These are just my observations as a reader, so take them with a grain of salt.

You have a decent basic premise, but the story seems a little unfocused. You seem to jump from one situation to the next with only a bare-bones narrative for each. 'Flesh out' each scene with more details, even mundane details. By adding details to the scene, you can give the reader a much more vivid picture of the whole story.

I think you should also develop your characters a bit more. In writing horror (or any genre for that matter) the characters are what draw the reader into the story. The reader needs someone to root for (or against). If the characters are one-dimensional or stereotypes, the reader is indifferent to them, and will lose interest in the story. Get inside the character's head...what are his strengths, his weaknesses, his flaws, his fears, his likes, his dislikes? What makes him tick? If you show the reader characters with real human qualities, good or bad, they'll be invested in his plight. This applies to the protagonist and the antagonist. The characters should drive the plot, not vice-versa. Once you're inside the head of your character, you'll have a better understanding of what drives him, and how he would logically react to different situations. You've already started this with your Sherriff, but add more layers to his character.

I'm currently reading a book titled "On Writing Horror: A Handbook by the Horror Writers Association". I highly recommend it to anyone wanting to try their hand at writing. It's a series of narratives and essays written by some of the top writers of horror. They provide insight into many of the aspects of writing horror, and give invaluable tips and advice of things to consider, things you should do, and things you shouldn't do.

Here's a link:


Hope this helps.

For Your Demonic Needs!
1,254 Posts
Discussion Starter #6
Thank you! The funny thing is that I have never been good at short stories. Longer stories where I can explore the character(s) and environment(s) and such no problem. This was my first attempt in years to write a short story and I held back a lot when writing The Nimeray, forcing myself to keep it short. My other short is only a third done and its longer than this one is now. In school we were assigned to write a 2 to 3 page short and what I handed in was 26 pages. I couldn't stop and still felt it was incomplete when I handed it in. Got an A though. I really appreciate what you said and I have to agree. I have had people read the first 6 chapters of my novel and received great reviews on it. It is much more developed and thorough. My avatar is actually a picture I drew with a slight bit of digital editing to enhance the pencil darkness... anyways, Its of one of my two main characters, Lilith, but this is how she looks way into the story... I have a series planned for this story line with years of work and research going into it.

I have been toying with posting what I have done so far on "Dreamer's Cabin" my other short as I have put more effort and development into it. But it is a longer story.

Mad Monster Maker
2,673 Posts
Hi again, Keys.
As I stated before, I plan on trying my hand at writing horror. To that end, I've been doing a lot of reading to learn about the writing process. The first book I read was the aforementioned "On Writing Horror: A Handbook by the Horror Writers Association". Since then, I've acquired several more books. I found these gems at our local Salvation Army store:

"Characters And Viewpoint" by Orson Scott Card
"Breathing Life Into Your Characters" by Rachel Ballon, PH.D.
"Writing With Power" By Peter Elbow

I only paid $1.99 for each of them, and the first two look brand new.

I've recently ordered a book titled "Plot And Structure" by James Scott Bell from Amazon.

I've finished reading "Characters And Viewpoint", and learned a LOT about character development.

At the time of this post, I'm almost finished reading "Plot And Structure", and the first thing I'm going to do when I'm finished reading it is read it again! This book is exactly what I needed to get me focused. It's written in an informal style that the layman can easily understand, and walks you through everything you need to know about putting together a cohesive and well-written story.

I think you can learn a lot from this book too. Here's a link:


One of the reasons I decided to get serious about writing is that I have (what I believe is) an original idea for a story. I had the basic characters, plot, and ending, but as I'm reading these books on writing, I continue to get new ideas and gradually add to the various elements of the story I want to write.
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