tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75241877378909082372024-03-05T23:57:03.684-08:00Official Hellraiser Fan FictionUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524187737890908237.post-13540433985315130182013-08-16T22:07:00.000-07:002013-08-16T22:11:43.272-07:00CHAPTER TWO<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">CHAPTER TWO</span></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><b>By </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold; white-space: nowrap;">Serhiy Krykun</span></span></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I raise my hands in a desperate attempt to stop the bastard. But my arms fail me, and the Chatterer </span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">closes in, his saliva getting in my eyes and mouth, his entrails coiling round my torso, his chattering </span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">almost deafening.</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">The Lead Cenobite laughs above me.</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">‘How lovely,’ – he drawls, as if savoring every syllable. – ‘Not to be able to see the eyes of your destiny. You’ve tampered with the things you have no business with, but the consequences are still yours to suffer.’</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I realize that my legs are still working.</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">My knee shoots up. The demon tumbles forward, his wound smearing my face.</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">In the pale moonlight I see the Lead Cenobite’s pins twinkling; the descriptions of him carousel before </span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">my eyes.</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">They were all wrong.</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">He’s no Devil.</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">He’s beautiful.</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I can’t take my eyes off him.</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">He speaks to me:</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">‘Still reluctant to go, I see. Too soon you’ll discover the foolishness of your acts, for the price will surpass your imagination.’</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">He moves his hand up and glances to my left.</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">A chain shoots from the darkness of the hall and hooks into the wall, blocking my path.</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">The wall starts to bleed.</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I manage to get to my legs.</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">The Chatterer recuperates slowly. He seems to know – there is no hurry, I won’t run.</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I look into the dark eyes of the Cenobite. He cocks his head and smiles faintly.</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Surprised by my own actions, I fall on my knees. I taste salt on my lips – it’s not blood, I’m crying.</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">‘I’m willing to help. I’m just a cog wheel. I can take you to the people who pulled the lever.’</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">------</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Serhiy Krykun was born in the ominous year 1984 in the deepest and obscurest part of Ukrainian countryside. He clawed his way up to the city of Kyiv and decided to hold the position. Battered by all kinds of lousy jobs, he's just recently made a "leap of faith" and proclaimed himself an artist. Since then he's been writing writing and illustrating glum scriptures by Clive Barker, Clarke Ashton Smith, Tom Ligotti and Richard Laymon.</span></span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Art by Jason S. Voss</span></span></b></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524187737890908237.post-78644765671429153312013-08-02T23:23:00.000-07:002013-08-16T22:10:32.230-07:00CHAPTER ONE<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Hell Hunter</span><br />
By Shaun Avery<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I stand before the gates of Hell, a machete in one hand, a camera in the other.
I consider my plan.
And then I enter.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">There are people who’ll pay, you see.
Think of those left behind when the Cenobites come. The wives and husbands. Imagine what they’d give for vengeance.
That’s where I come in.
And I need no box.
There are many portals to Hell.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKpqrGnMnaDmtdMAI_GA2UXuWKRbJEOiWfCF5BR4K93uubQ-JnKirzDIObhLfxKfJJe2ge-XpHFlR1mao-8l0v-l2D8YqQRVuHjBQiXEh9y_DO_n-qSZwD3ndGyhGEf-dFBo3NhFCg8441/s1600/hellraiserinferno-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKpqrGnMnaDmtdMAI_GA2UXuWKRbJEOiWfCF5BR4K93uubQ-JnKirzDIObhLfxKfJJe2ge-XpHFlR1mao-8l0v-l2D8YqQRVuHjBQiXEh9y_DO_n-qSZwD3ndGyhGEf-dFBo3NhFCg8441/s320/hellraiserinferno-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I watch my prey.
As I step forward, he turns.
Making that dreaded sound.
That infernal chattering.
I swing the machete.
The blade slices through his torso, and it topples to the ground. His legs continue to stand for a second, before they, too, collapse.
I smile.
And then I take a picture.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">My client pays well for proof of revenge.
See, people always go for the Lead Cenobite. But he’ll be expecting it.
So my plan was: go for a minion.
I succeeded.
But then late one night, I hear something.
‘Oh no,’ I say.
I hear it again.
‘Oh God.’
I step out of my bedroom.
He is coming up the stairs towards me.
The Chatterer.
Minus his legs, now he is crawling.
I take a step back.
But he stops me.
The Lead Cenobite.
‘There are many portals to Hell,’ he says. ‘You did not close them all when you returned.’
Then The Chatterer is upon me, and I realise with horror that he will not need legs to take his vengeance upon me.
All he will need is teeth.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; white-space: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">Shaun Avery is a crime and horror fiction fan with stories upcoming in many anthologies and magazines. The Chatterer has always been his favourite Cenobite i<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">n the Hellraiser movies/comics/books. He makes no apologies for this.</span></span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7524187737890908237.post-1874682100231459252013-07-30T15:08:00.000-07:002013-07-30T15:08:02.719-07:00Interested in writing Hellraiser Fan Fiction? Stay tuned for more details this Sunday for Part Two of the creative writing contest! Submissions are now closed for Part one.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1