supernatural
The hidden world of all things supernatural; a look inside witchcraft, spells, vexes, black magic and other spine-tingling supernatural phenomena.
The Crow (Part 9). Content Warning.
Chapter 9 i “Where am I?” I asked. “We’re in your mind,” the plagued doctor replied. “Who are you?” “Don’t you know, yet? Didn’t the KhanaiKlan tell you?” The plague doctor looked into my eyes, and I saw . . . nothing. There was absolutely nothing in his goggled gaze. “Do you want to know?”
By Caleb Irby (IrbyMissingAK)2 years ago in Horror
The Crow (Part 7). Content Warning.
Chapter 7 i Before we even heard of the bunkers the government had created, Kelly, Sean and I were in a Ford Mustang that I had so kindly borrowed (not like I could have brought it back, and even if I did bring it back, who would be there to receive it?) and were joyfully cruising down Little Frog Avenue in Guiser, Louisiana, headed to the Bayous in Plaquemine.
By Caleb Irby (IrbyMissingAK)2 years ago in Horror
The Crow (Part 6). Content Warning.
Chapter 6 i They drug him out. James Stone, one of the soldiers of the New City militia, came screaming out of the warehouse. His face was pouring down rivers of sweat and his eyes had a wild and frantic look in them. A hunted look in them.
By Caleb Irby (IrbyMissingAK)2 years ago in Horror
The Crow (Part 5). Content Warning.
Chapter 5 i Lieutenant Randy Burns and I sat in plush chairs in his office. We clinked our glasses (which were holding a beer) and stared out the window. “Those fucking rebels,” Randy muttered frustratedly. “Forming fucking clans, and why? For what purpose?” He took a sip of his drink and continued to stare out the window. I stared out the window, too. Randy swept his searching eyes to me and asked, “Have you heard what they do to people like us?” I nodded slowly. I heard rumors going around.
By Caleb Irby (IrbyMissingAK)2 years ago in Horror
The Crow (Part 2). Content Warning.
Chapter 2 i Ring! My phone woke me up. My head hurt, my chest hurt. Basically, my whole body hurt. My mouth tasted like a scorpion took a shit in it. I looked at my phone. I had thirty-two missed calls and sixteen messages. It took a moment for me to look around because my neck felt like someone pasted it with cement. But I turned my head to my nightstand. An empty bottle of vodka, which I must’ve bought was lying on its side on my nightstand. “Mom’s gonna be so pissed,” and that set me off giggling, which made me groan. Damn headache. I decided a Tylenol or two or three was a necessity and tried to get up to get it. Whumpf! I didn’t make it, and my tall back to the gravity of the beat-up couch made me vomit. I needed help—badly. ii “You . . . WHAT?!” Yep, I was right. Mom and Dad were right in front of me. Mom was so mad that I thought for a second I could see steam coming out of her ears. Dad, on the other hand, was pretending to look disappointed but was trying to hide a smile playing on his lips. “Mom, let me explain—” She slapped my face. Stone silence. No one in my family has ever hit me. Not even a paddling. I did not know it was going to get this far. Dad sucked in a breath, his lips a grim line. I stared at Mom in amazement. She stared back, and started to cry. The perfect timing for Mom’s friend, Lisa, to come out with a notepad in her hand. She looked around. “What happened?” I got in my truck and drove away, leaving my mom and dad pleading after me. iii There was a man in a trench coat. And a crow mask. In front of a table with glass vials. “So,” the man murmured to himself. “It has begun.” Around him were people in glass cells. Test subjects. All of them were numbered. Number 437 was dead. All of them were dead. Number 481 was alive. “Some will be immune,” said the plague doctor. “But that’s just fine.” And he rubbed his gloved hands. There was still work to do. He selected a glass vial. iv “Hey!” I turned around. I was at school, going to 4th period. World History. A beautiful girl—that must’ve been new—was glancing at me a bit shyly. I didn’t notice. Her eyes were gorgeous. “Yeah, what’s up?” I asked. “Um, do you have the answers to the assignment in English 4?” She really did have beautiful eyes. I stuttered a bit while making an ass of myself. “Uh, y-yeah I do.” I dug around in my backpack, pulled out the sheet, and let her copy my answers. I watched her. She gave it back to me, looked into my eyes for a moment, thanked me, and quickly ran away while looking over her shoulder. “You know what you remind me of?” I whipped around. It was Daniel and Joshua. Joshua said, “A damn rooster,” and we all laughed, then went to class. v “Listen up! What—hey! Give that back! Stop that! Stop!” That was Mr. D’Nario, with his face red as lava and twice as hot. At least, that‘s what Rachel used to say. D’Nario was 27 and tried to act like a teenager, which was hilarious. Someone had grabbed his hat and tie and was slinking around the room doing a pretty good imitation of him. All of us were laughing. Daniel elbowed me. He was busting a gut. “HahahalookathisfacehahahaHA!” I bet you could have poured a little shot glass of water on his face and it would have sizzled and steamed. I chortled out my observation to Josh, and Josh fell out of his chair, whacking his head on a chair occupied by a Sophomore cheerleader. The cheerleader spilled out of it and sprawled on the floor. Joshua Armstrong looked horrified, and things went from bad to worse, for the cheerleader slapped him on the face. Well, at least she tried to. He was looking under her skirt, and the guy that was sitting next to her noticed this little dilemma . “You like that?” asked the guy rhetorically and punched Josh in the face. I would say he was the cheerleader’s boyfriend. That’s how my time in World History went. I think I left a gut in there. Yet I’m still laughing. vi I walked to the student parking lot, ready to get some Taco Bell for lunch, when that beautiful girl came out of nowhere. I stopped in my tracks. We were standing nose to nose. I could see every freckle that dotted around her nose and cheeks; we were that close. I guess you would call it love at first sight when we first saw each other. I don’t know. Then, very surprisingly, she kissed me. Not one of those little pecks I’d get from Rachel, it was a good full-on kiss. It went for a couple of minutes then she pulled away. We both blushed simultaneously. She looked at me solemnly. “Can I go with you?” I nodded. “Thank you.” she said, and she got in. I looked around subconsciously hoping no one was around to see that. There wasn’t. vii “I never did catch your name,” the girl said. I was about to say the same thing. “My name is Ryan Wallace. What’s yours?” “Kelly Morgan. That was a great kiss, wasn't it?” Like she had to ask. “The first and the best,” I replied. She looked at me with an expression that I couldn’t really read, “I didn’t startle you, did I?” She did but in a good way, so that’s what I said. “Okay, that’s good,” Kelly said. And we didn’t talk the rest of the way to Taco Bell. viii Well, as it turned out, I was wrong. Half of the school knew about the kiss, and I’ve been getting congratulatory pats on the back. “Hey, have you got into her pants yet?” asked Jack Ramington, the school’s legendary cocksman. “Dude, one little kiss.” Jack smiled. “That’s not what I saw,” he said, and pulled out his phone. I had a sinking suspicion about what was on the phone (besides the porn that was undoubtedly hidden in the virus-filled piece of metal and plastic) and was about to make a break for it when he showed it to me. “See? It’s all over Instagram. You’re gonna have one helluva nagging. And—” he slipped a condom into my pocket, “—you’re gonna need this.” “Fuck y—” I started, but Jack was gone already. I thought about throwing the rubber away but then thought better of it. Who knows. I thought. I might need it. I immediately got disgusted with myself. We weren't even dating! Plus, it was too soon after Rachel. Speaking of Rachel, she came over to me after 7th period. “Hi, Ryan,” she said. “Hey.” She looked around, then stood on tip-toes and kissed me on the lips. I pulled back hurriedly. “Woah, woah, woah! What the hell?” I asked incredulously. Rachel looked crestfallen. “Don’t you want me? We could do more—” I interrupted. “What the hell is wrong with you?” She shook her head. “Don’t you still like me?” she asked, staring a hole into her shoes. “Yes, but . . .” “We could go to your apartment, and we could have—” “No!” I yelled, backing up. Rachel’s head snapped up as if I slapped her. “No?” she whispered. She was shaking “No,” I confirmed. “You gave me up for that guy Robby. You broke me.” “Please.” I grabbed her by the shoulders. “Rachel, what is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?” She stared at me and murmured something. “What?” “I’m jealous.” I asked, “Where’s Robby? Aren’t you dating him?” Rachel laughed a laugh that scared me a bit. “Oh, he ran off with some blonde chick who let him go all the way.” “Listen Rachel—” She shook her head. “No, Ryan. You're right. We broke it off. I shouldn’t have done this to you. I’ll go now.” She walked away. I tried to grab her arm, to tell her I was sorry, but she just shrugged me away. ix “So,” started Kelly. “What do you do for fun?” I thought about it. “I like reading and listening to music. What about you?” “I like going to the movies with my friends.” “Oh, yeah? What’s your favorite movie?” Kelly thought for a while, then said, “The Alamo.” I stared at her with an amazed look. “The Alamo? With Dennis Quaid?” Kelly looked at me innocently. “Yes. What’s so funny about it?” Her facial expression crushed the smile playing on my lips and the giggles that were sure to escape from them. I coughed. “Yes, the Alamo; that’s a good movie.” She relaxed a little. “I know how it sounds, me as a girl and all. But it’s really good.” I thought about it. “It is.” She stared into my eyes. I in hers. “If you guys kiss, I’m going to puke.” Kelly and I both jumped. It was Daniel. Of course. Sneaking on people was his idea of a habit. “Hey, Dan.” “Sup, Ryan. Who’s this?” Kelly introduced herself. Daniel Falcom nodded. “Hey, that’s cool. You guys . . . and girls wanna come over to my house?” We said sure. He studied us, then gave way to a sly smile. “Just don’t do the hanky-panky-spanky.” Kelly and I looked at each other and laughed. But we couldn’t promise anything, because as it turned out, it wouldn’t take us long to go steady. x Rachel let herself into Ryan’s apartment. Rachel still had a spare key. Something was . . . compelling her to be there. Commanding her. She just didn’t know what. After breaking up with Ryan, her life had turned into, well, a living hell. She was depressed, and after trying to get back with him and failing made it so much worse. Especially when that slutty bitch kissed Ryan. That pissed her off so fucking bad. She walked in the door. There was a man waiting for her. He had a crow mask on. It was a strange sight. Yet, she wasn’t scared. There was a rope scattered around the man’s feet. “Ah,” said the man. “Hello, Rachel.” Rachel fell to her knees. The man put his hands on her head. “I have a job for you. I want to send a message. Will you help me?” “Yes,” Rachel whispered. The man was staring at her, removing his hands. “I am the plague doctor, here to tell the world of a coming blackness. And only I can save you.” The man took a blank wooden board from behind the couch (it was going to be used for a science project, but that didn’t turn out very well), took out a knife from a pocket inside his jacket, and scratched out the letters onto the sign: I HAVE ARRIVED, THE SAVIOR The plague doctor removed the silver pendant from her breast pocket of her silk button-up shirt, and slipped the sign on her neck. “The time has come,” and he put the noose from the rope on the ground around her neck. Rachel moved to the dining table where she and Ryan had spent many times eating, stepped on a chair, tied the top of the rope to the ceiling fan, and stopped. This doesn’t feel right. The table was swept from under her feet and she killed herself. The plague doctor walked away, satisfied.
By Caleb Irby (IrbyMissingAK)2 years ago in Horror
The Crow (Part 1). Content Warning.
The Crow A Novel By C Irby Prologue He woke up. He was confused. He was . . . not right. Since the (??explosion??) He did not know. He knew his home world was gone. And that he was alive. But he didn’t feel alive in the right way. He was somewhere, but he . . . could not remember. In a little bit, though, he began to feel hopeful as he looked around. What a beautiful planet. It could do. He knew what to do. This was how it began. Chapter 1 i A bitter wind cut the crisp and cold night, making me shiver, but I wasn’t paying attention to it. The outside concert was blasting music into my ears, taking all thought of the cold weather off my mind. “Isn’t he just great?” Daniel Falcom asked, talking about Logic. Rachel Heights, Joshua Armstrong, Daniel, and I were at the Confessions of a Dangerous Mind tour, and we were going to be here for awhile. At least that’s what I thought. “Yes,” I replied, “And maybe . . .” “Shut up!” Rachel hissed. “The 1-800 song is coming on!” Ah. She loves that song. I listened to the first verse “I been on the low I’ve been takin’ my time I feel like I’m outta my mind—” when I heard someone yell: “What the hell was that?!” I craned my neck to see the commotion and felt my blood turn to ice. Someone had brought a gun. And was pointing it at the person who now lay in a pool of blood. And I vomited. And fainted. ii “Ryan.” A voice. I didn’t know who it belonged to. “Ryan, I just called our parents, so please wake up.” I began surfacing from the pool of unconsciousness, starting to understand (or comprehend) what Rachel was saying. A groan escaped from me, and I opened my eyes. I was in our apartment with our beat-up couch, the weird lava-lamp that I got for Rachel, and the cheap TV. Rachel slapped a cold washcloth on my forehead, and none too gentle. “Well,” starts Rachel. “You woke up. I was tempted to put shaving cream on your hand, but I felt merciful.” I grinned, in spite of my headache. Rachel, I thought. Being merciful. Who would’ve thought? “What happened? I—” Rachel held up a well manicured hand. “Let me stop you there. I’ll explain it all, but first, would you like a drink?” As if her words brought it up, suddenly my throat started screaming that it had been in the desert too long. “Yes.” “Okay, Chief, water is on the way.” She started to get up, but I grabbed her arm. “Where are the others?” I asked. She smiled at me. “Señor, everything will be explained to you momentarily,” and with that, she left. What a cliffhanger. I looked around the room, my head aching badly and my eyes feeling like they’re about to pop out any second. Rachel came flouncing in the room with a bottle of Fiji water—our favorite. “Here you go Chief.” She held it out to me. I grabbed the bottle, twisted the cap and drank thirstily. Rachel watched me the whole time, and I noticed for the first time how hollow her eyes looked. I finished the bottle. Burp! “Ahhh, that’s better. Okay, so can you please tell me what happened,” and for her benefit, I put on my best director voice. “From the top!” She gave a little laugh, though I think it was forced. “Well—” she began. “No,” I interrupted her. “You should say, ‘In the beginning, God created the—’” “Oh, shut up, would you?” she laughed. This one was real “Nah, instead of shut up, you should say, ‘cut the shit,’ like Mr—” “Shut up,” she hissed, and I did. You don’t want to see her lose her patience. I would not end up as the winner. “Okay, so . . .” she waited, probably for me to interrupt her. When I didn’t, she gave a little nod and continued her story. “We were at the concert, and the 1-800 song was playing. Oh, how I love that song.” “Perhaps you’d like to write a book?” I remarked; then immediately wished I could take it back. She must’ve seen it on my face because she waved it away and said, “You’re right; let’s get to the matter at hand.” She got up and started pacing the room. “The song was playing, and I noticed you had turned around. That’s when I saw the dead man—” I groaned. “—and the gun pointed at him,” she finished. “I was hoping that was a dream,” I said. “No such thing, Chief.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “After that, the crowd dispersed, and you fainted. The boys and I had to bring you to our apartment, and they went home. Now we are here.” “You said that you called our par—” “Yes, and they are on their way as we speak,” she said. I had one question. “Did you see what happened to the guy who killed the other?” “Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.” And took her phone out. She tapped on it for a few seconds, and turned the screen toward me. There was a picture. “A crow mask?” iii “You are never going to another concert again! Too dangerous.” That’s my mom, Flora Wallace. She's a bit—no, a lot!—overprotective. It’s annoying and adoring. “If I may,” I started, but she wasn’t paying attention. She was still raging on the warpath. “You should move back in our house. You would be much safer.” We heard a click behind us, and I jumped a bit. It was only my dad, Johnathan Wallace. He looked around. “What did I miss?” he asked with the most comical face that I’ve ever seen. The tension lifted, and Mom and I burst out laughing. Dad looked around—a bit confused. iv I was back at the apartment, putting in my key when the door opened. Rachel was standing in the doorway in a dress and sling-back heels. I stuttered, “Wh-what are y-you doing?” She gave me a funny look. “Um, date night? Did you forget or something? You must have ‘cause you ain’t dressed up.” I slapped my forehead. “Damn it! I’m sorry; I really am s—” and I couldn’t say anymore because she had put a finger on my lips. “It’s okay,” she said. “You have a lot on your mind. I get it.” “We can still go.” “If you want to.” I looked at my wrist watch. “Let me get dressed, okay?” She looked at me with almond shaped eyes—a look of mischief. “Five minutes,” she said and gave me a peck on the lips. v At least we have Christmas Break. We don’t have to go to school for another week. And being a senior in high school didn’t hurt. I got behind the steering wheel of my blue Ford Ranger, a gift from my mom and dad, and keyed the ignition. Rachel got in the passenger side. “So,” I said. “Where to?” She looked thoughtful. “Italian?” Her favorite “I’m down for it.” She slapped me playfully. “Step on it, then, my faithful servant.” “Yes ma’am.” Oh, the beautiful memories. vi “Hey Ryan! Care for a little talk?” Xavier Anderson was looking at me threateningly, almost taunting me. “Huh Ryan? How about it? Make you think twice before hacking my account again.” I have made quite a reputation for being a hacker. I have erased the schools WiFi grid, deleted the school board’s files on me, and a number of other things. I looked at Xavier. “Maybe if you stop bein’ a bitch to m—” Before I could finish that sentence, a fist lobbed at me at semi-full force. I’m a formidable fighter, and I was able to dodge it quite well. I ducked down, socked him in the stomach and stepped back, just as the teacher came rushing in. “Okay, cut the shit! Cut the shit!” Mr. D’Nario, the World History teacher, lobbed out obscenities left and right, black and blue. When he was done, he looked around, red in the face. “What happened?!” Mr. D’Nario was asking. Xavier, the asshole that he is, shouted, “Ryan hit me!” I rolled my eyes, which was a bad idea. Mr. D’Nario glared at me. “Principal's office. Now!” vii “We’ve been getting in quite a lot of trouble this year, haven’t we?” Principal Llamar was staring at me very intimidatingly. “Sir,” I said. “It wasn’t me who started it. It was hi—” “No. We’ve been tracking what you do on your Chromebook, and we know you erased everything on his account.” “Fuck,” I mumbled under my breath. The encryption did not work. “Excuse me?” the principal inquired. “Nothing,” I answered quickly. The principal sighed, making me think that he gave up on trying to give me a lecture. He didn’t, but it came with a side effect. “Three days suspension.” I looked at him incredulously. Suspension! Principal Llamar swept his cutting eyes to me. “Get out of my office.” viii I got a text from Rachel: “Where were you? I’ve been trying to find you all day.” I texted back: “I got suspended.” In my truck, I got a call from my mom: “Young man,” my mom said in a steely calm voice that sent a chill down my neck. “Don’t think of going to the apartment. Come straight home. Now!” She then hung up. I sighed. A lecture awaits me at home. Then a strange thought came to me—What about the crow mask? The question surprised me so much, I missed my turn. What about the crow mask? What has that got to do with the situation? I was pondering this as I turned the truck around. I got another call. The caller ID wasn’t any I knew, so I declined. A message appeared: Hi Ryan :) ix “What the hell were you thinking?!” Mom’s tone shocked me as I came through the door. “Mom, that guy has been bothering me all damn year. He deserved it.” “You don’t say who deserves what and WHAT!?” Spittle flew from her lips. She was in a rage. “You're eighteen; act like it!” “Okay.” Turns out, saying that was a mistake. “DON’T OKAY ME!!!” I looked at her imploringly. “Mom, please calm down.” Mom stormed off. Dad came in. If Mom was like this, I wondered. What about dad? As it turned out, that wasn’t a problem. Dad breezed in, and handed me a beer. I looked at him, a bit awed at how he did that. “Um, Dad, I’m eighteen.” Dad looked at me, as if I was oblivious, and he wasn’t. “Son, I was drinkin’ ‘fore your age. Come on out to the patio.” I followed him out, wondering if he was drunk. I sat down. “So,” Dad said. “Suspension, huh?” “Yes,” and because I couldn’t hold it in much longer, I asked, “Are you drunk?” Dad looked at me and roared with laughter. “No son, I ain’t drunk. This is the first one I’ve had all day.” I looked at him dubiously. “Why are you calmer than mom at this?” He leaned back in his beach chair and gave me a long thoughtful look. “Your mom, well, she never got into trouble at school, and she wanted you to do the same.” He paused, thinking, then continued “Me? I was one of those jocks that was always in trouble. I understand how you feel, though I have no fuckin’ idea about those computer thingies.” He took a sip of his beer and pointed at mine. “Better pop that sonofabitch open, son, you ain’t gettin’ any younger.” And that’s what I did. “Son, you have to understand that you are her only child, and she wants what’s best for you.” I knew that. It was a sad truth. “Yeah, I guess,” I said. Dad took another sip. “Cut her some slack. I’m not sayin’ you can go around breakin’ a han’full of rules. That’s not what I’m sayin’ at all. I’m just sayin’ I understand where you’re at.” Dad got up. “Better figure out what you’re gonna do for the next three days,” he said and then left. x For the next three days, I did homeschooling. When I went back to school, I looked for Rachel, to see how she was. I haven’t been to our apartment since the suspension. I grabbed Joshua by the arm. “Hey Josh. You know where Rachel is?” Josh looked at me, alarmed. No, not at me. Past me. I looked over my shoulder and saw Rachel—with another guy. She saw me, too. “Ryan!” I stared at her. “What the hell is this?” I asked. She looked at the guy. “Oh! Um,” she started twisting her hair. “This is Robby.” He held up a hand. Rachel looked at me, kind of . . . scared? “I can’t date you anymore. I’m sorry.” Then Robby put an arm around her waist. I stared at them incomprehensibly. “I’m moving in with Robby,” Rachel said. I turned my head slowly to Robby. “Robbyy—” Someone put an arm around my shoulder. I whipped around. It was Josh. “Ryan, man. It ain’t worth it.” I nodded slowly. “You're right. No back-stabbing bitch is worth it.” And swept out the cafeteria. xi I unlocked my apartment. I felt hollow. Low. Used. I put my shopping bag on the counter and unloaded it. One bottle of vodka. I took out my phone. Seven missed calls from Rachel including four messages saying she was sorry and all that bull. I sat on the recliner in my apartment. I looked at my home screen picture. It was Rachel and I at Six Flags Over Texas underneath the Texas Giant. It hurt to look at it, so I deleted it from my phone and replaced the wallpaper. Then, I put the bottle in my hand and got drunk, reaching the doorways of an almost bliss. A bliss where I didn’t have to think of her. But I thought about that crow mask.
By Caleb Irby (IrbyMissingAK)2 years ago in Horror
