SNUFF SNES

I love gory and scary games. Why do I mention that, you ask? It'll become clear after I've finished telling you my story. Let's just say, I never expected what I got.


I was out looking around at garage sales for old video games with my friend Devin. It was pretty slim pickings for the most part, sport games and movies is all there were to pick up. However, Devin got lucky with some antiques, but that's not really important. Well, we went to the last house of the day, an old decrepit looking thing that would probably collapse at any second. The old lady was packing up what remained of her things and was getting ready to close up for the day. Devin didn't recall seeing a sign though and stated that we should not bother her.

"Excuse me, are you selling anything?" I said, ignoring Devin.
"I was. Now I'm closing. Anything you're looking for in particular?"
"Just some old video games if you have any,"
"Yep, I've got one left as a matter of fact."


She dipped her hand into one of the boxes and withdrew a Super Nintendo cartridge. My heart sank until I saw that there was no label, just the words SNUFF written in bold black marker.

"How much?" I asked, without thinking.
"two dollars"

I nodded my head and withdrew two dollar bills from my wallet and handed them to the feeble woman.

"Look up the value for this one, Devin. I've never heard of this before."
"Gotcha. I haven't either."

After a few minutes he stated he couldn't find anything on it anywhere. So we decided to go back to his house and test it out.

Nothing happened the first few tries, but after I think the fifth, the screen flashed on. Odd, there were no company names, it just went directly into the game. No big deal, I thought.
I found my character staring at a door with two messages on the base of the screen, prompting me to go forward or backward. The weirdest part of this is that the game looks like an old nineties film instead of a game, but again, I didn't think anything of it because there was another game a lot like this one where you had to keep actual human beings alive while home invaders attempted to kill them.
Anyway, I went forward and clicked on the next prompt that said open the door, locked. So I had the option to kick or cancel so I decided to kick but a message said that it wasn't a good idea. Eventually, I figured out that i had to pick the lock and then when I was inside, I directed my character up a flight of stairs and into a bedroom. I find myself looking down at a girl and I am prompted to either kill her or back away. I try to back away and another message flashes on saying NO. I was automatically given the option to kill her with a knife or with a pillow, so I chose pillow and it said NO again. I was given only one option this time that said, "Slit her throat" so I obliged and did it. My character flipped the girl onto her back and pulled a knife from some unknown reach and slid it across the woman's throat, she tried to scream but only choked and another option popped onto the screen while the scene continued that said, "Stab her" but it clicked itself and my character began to stab her repeatedly. Normally, when somebody was murdered in a 90's movie, you can tell the blood was fake but the blood this time was very convincing. Before I could wrap my head around it, another message flashed onto the screen that read, "Go to the kid's room" and it selected itself again. My character left his knife inside of the woman and pulled a plastic bag just into frame, walked himself out of the room and began down a small hall.

"What the fuck, dude?" Devin said. "Don't go in there!"
"I'm not doing it!" I said, placing the controller on the floor.

The character opened another door and exposed an obvious young boy's room. Next thing I know, the character is dragging the child out of his bed and wrapping the bag around the boy's face as the child struggled. All we could see then was the boy's feet just in frame thrashing about and eventually stop moving.

"That's enough of this shit, this isn't right." Devin said.

I sat there in shock. This was no fucking game, this was a legitimate snuff film.

We called the police and went to the old lady's house, only to find that she had died the night we bought the game.

What to Expect From A Stray Child

Hey everyone!

With A Stray Child due for release in eight days, I figured I could give everyone a bit of insight about the content without giving too much away.

First off, there will be a few moments of cringe worthy gore and suggestive scenes. These are installed into the story in hopes of helping the reader understand the brutality of the cult and the God they worship.

A Stray Child is going to be the base of a long pillar of mythos I've set in motion. H.P. Lovecraft is a notable author who did this as well. The God's name is Giyago, a deity as old as time itself... an amalgamation of all things evil and horrid within the cosmos.

The main protagonist is Bryan Howard, a homicide detective just looking to get through the day without really any thoughts about anything else. He's absent minded and brash, just looking for an escape from the mundane and stressful, which makes him a perfect candidate for the cult and their God. He's also very skeptical of all things supernatural or divine, so his journey just seems even more maddening as it gets worse and worse.

On a more personal note, A Stray Child is also my interpretation of the madness that religion forces on its followers, sometimes forcing them to commit insane and horrible. A Stray Child also confronts the stressful and often overwhelmingly difficult things society has now deemed a part of life.

A few notable works that inspired this story:

The Call of Cthulhu
The Shadow Over Innsmouth
Outlast (yes, a video game)

A Stray Child is going to be a bloody thrill ride that will take you all the way to its gruesome core and leave you there to wallow in its blood-red light.

Be sure to pre-order your Kindle edition today!

As always, stay rotten guys.

A Stray Child
Available for Kindle August 10th, 2016

The Delivery

Took me long enough, but I found it. 2238 Maple Street. Would have been a lot quicker if they had managed to cut down some of the shit trailing all over the face of the house, covering the address. Way too much trouble for a small pizza and bread sticks. Anyway, I better get a damned tip from this. Rain too. Fucking hate rain.

I step out from the driver seat, into the pounding rain and go around to my back door, open it and slide out the delivery bag. I hate my job sometimes, until I get those days where I get hundreds of dollars worth of tips. Anyway, time to get this delivered, boss is probably going to chew me out when I get back to the store.

I approach a rotted, dilapidated gate and ease it open and begin up the path towards the front door. Erie as shit, that's for sure. No lights either. They probably gave up and went to bed, if so, then I'm going to eat this fucking pizza for my troubles.

I give the front door a few quick knocks, after a moment, I delivered a few more. Nobody's home? Damn it. No tip, but a free pizza? I guess I've gotta count my blessings. I turn and begin down the path again and I hear a creak from behind me.

“Is that my pizza?” a woman called.

“Uh-- yeah. Sorry I'm so late, I got a bit turned around. Haven't been out this way haha,” I reply.

“I'm sorry sweetheart, meant to get these vines cut, as much as I love 'em. You can come in if you want while I get your money, don't want you getting sick.”

She was a small, not-so-intimidating old lady so I figured, what the hell? I make my way forward again and step into the house. Cliche moth balls smell and the sudden, subconscious requirement to take my shoes off at the door. The house was pitch black, strange for an old lady who seems like she could be blown over with the slightest strong gust of wind.

She's been gone for awhile now. Is she alright?

“I'm going to leave your pizza right here on your coffee table alright? I won't charge you.” I called out,

“Oh-- honey I've fallen and I can't get up-- could you help me?”

“Of course! Where are you?”

“Back bedroom just in front of the door!”

Shit. Just my luck. Could this night get any fucking worse? Might as well go help her.

I feel across the wall for a light switch and find one, flicking it up, I find that the power is out. Perfect!

“Alright, I'm on my way!”

“Please hurry, I've got to use the bathroom so bad.”

Fuck. Me.

She better not piss or-- shit all over me when I help her up. If she does, I'll quit right on the fucking spot. I didn't sign up to be a nurse aid.

I reach the end of the hall and turn into the left bedroom, my foot meeting the bottom of hers.

“Please-- help me up honey--”

“Yep--”

I bend down and wrap my arms around her frail frame. She starts groaning and it almost forces me to drop her due to paranoia, but she was already too high up for me to drop her like a sack of bricks.

“My potty is right behind me-- in front of the nightstand-- set me up there.”

I do as instructed and without warning, she begins to shit-- signaling the fact with a loud fart and a few plops of muddy shit. She couldn't have fucking waited?

“Have a nice night, ma'am. Your pizza's right out on the coffee table,”

“Hold on-- Emily wants to play with you.”

“Emily? I'm sorry ma'am I really have to get back to the restaurant,”

“Emily! Sweetie, he's right here!”

I'm not playing with your fucking cat or dog, lady. I'm not going to spare a single moment getting out of this God forsaken house.

“I'm sorry, ma'am--”
“She'll be here in just a minute. Emily! Where are you? There you are, sweetie.”

The old woman finished emptying her bowels and though it was really dark, I could make out her smiling to something behind me.

“I have to go.” I simply said.

I turn, ignoring anything else she has to say and begin out of the bedroom. Time to leave her to her dementia or whatever--

What the fuck!

The first thing I seen was two white balls staring intently at me, they hung higher than the door too. Her figure was slender and her arms and legs were impossibly stretched and sharpened. A quick flash of lightning revealed set of long, jagged, sharp teeth that seemed to be drooling and-- where her eyes should have been-- there were just two dark holes. But what produced the pale glow? How the Hell is this even possible?

I froze as she started easing her way towards me.

“He's a nice boy, Emily. Play good with him okay?”

The shadowy figure seemed to nod, and after a long moment, she lurched forward and wrapped her arms around me and carried me quickly to some unknown reach of the house.

I was slammed down onto a cold, flat surface and, before I knew it, I felt my stomach begin to sting as her face buried into my abdomen, gnawing on my rib cage and, shortly after, my insides.

The Thing in the Mist

    It stands at an unimpressive, seemingly 4-foot pose. Regardless of its size, whatever that thing in the mist is, it's truly terrifying.
    Its eyes burning like two pale stars. It has bits of something hanging off of it and it doesn't seem to have any arms.

    It's waiting for me to turn around, I know it. I attempt to do so, but it never came. I turn back around to see if it had even moved, it hadn't. Not even slightly, so, idiotically, I approach. As the mist parts and my eyes adjust, I see that it's just two little mice, eating seeds on a mossy branch.

Exhaustion

     My hands are raw and every muscle aches.
     How do they expect me to work like this? This is slave labor at best.
     I use to enjoy doing this, back when I was much younger and more angry.
     Oh well, it's the only skill I possess and it pays the bills and then some.
    
     I don't have a wife anymore, or any kids. Sometimes I wish I did, but I would end up coming home and unable to unwind, probably dead of a heart attack already because of her bitching all the time.
     I wish this was still fun for me, but now it's just-- exhausting.

"No! Please!" He screamed,
"Shhh..  I need some quiet time," I said, gagging his mouth.

     I turn around and face my table of tools. I think I'll go with the chainsaw this time. The vibrations and violent shaking of the bodies usually arouses me.
     He's my last client, then I can go home, hire a wore and deal with myself. Release a bit of this exhaustion.
   

Mirror

I unlocked the bottom lock on my front door and slam through it, I stomp in and stumble over my family’s shoes and fall face first onto the floor. Snow fell from my hair and my coat, I’m so repulsive not even snows wants to stay with me. I lay there in front of the open door, sobbing heavily into the ground. I cursed and I questioned, turning the brown carpet a darker and warmer stain from my tears.

“Why me? What the fuck did I ever do to deserve this? I fucking hate this shitty planet. I hate my shitty self.” I cry vibrating the white, blank walls of my home, “Fuck!” I run my knuckles straight into the ground, feeling the…. Glorious sting and ache; so I did it again, and again, and again. I felt my right hand, middle finger break or spring, I don’t care, all I know is that the pain was worse and I loved it!

I began bashing the side of my head against the carpet, harder and harder every time, hoping soon I will either be unconscious or brain damaged. As I continued, lifting my head and heavily bringing it down with a thud, I felt a zit burst on my forehead, that makes me stop and touch it, puss and blood raced down the side of my head, only from the zit though.

“Can’t even knock my own damn self out, pathetic.” I whisper only to be answered by the February winter winds whistling over my house.

I got up steadily and made my way to my bathroom, entered and closed the door, I put down the lid and sat myself upon it; I looked up and focused on a flower that had multiple, small brown droplets dripping from its two dimensional, white pedals, we never bothered to clean that up or even guess what that was. 

I raised up, still hearing my heart pound against my chest and my brain scrunch with near insanity.

“You greasy headed in-bred mother fucker, kill your self, nobody on this fucking planet cares about you!” I shout at my reflection in the badly fingerprinted mirror. I looked myself in my wet, red eyes and watched as the blood raced down the side of my head and around each field of red and white headed blemish. 

I put the back of my hand up to the puss and blood coated wound and felt its contents layer on to my skin. I observed myself again.

“have you ever had a girlfriend? I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t.” they’d say, 
“Haha, look Ned he pissed himself!” their minions would say,
“No you pricks kicked me in the ass, as I was taking a piss.” I’d reply
“Sure Higgins, sure.” they’d laugh again, I would reply with a fist to the asshole’s temple and he’d go down, then his dumb fucks would jump on me, punch me in the balls a couple of times, then move to my gut and finally to my face and when I wanted to take a breath they dip my head in an unlashed stall toilet, forcing me to drink the urine and shit and used toilet paper.

I would walk around school for the rest of the day, with a head and breath smelling like feces.

Valentine’s day was tomorrow, and God do I want to shoot each one of those ignorant couples without a care in the world.

“Hi Clary.” I’d say
“Uh- hey Higgins.” she’d say
“I was wondering, since you have been the nicest person to me, would you go to prom with me? I mean just as friends, I don’t want anything more I promise.” I’d say again and she would giggle and look to her girlfriends around her,
“With you Higgins? I’m sorry, but I’d rather eat my own barf then to go with you, look don’t talk to me, you broke that chance long ago with that horrible body odor of yours!” she’d giggle and wander off with her friends.

I came back into this sickening reality and still felt my popped blemish, pulsate with anger and pain. I let out a cry and punch my reflection square in the nose, shattering the mirror and slicing open three of my four right hand knuckles. The blood dripped from my hand, but I didn’t squint, I laughed……. ‘that sting, it feels so good!’ I thought, out of good measure I bashed my head a single time against the wall, the spot went numb from the pulsating pain and I felt it grow just above my temple. I was light headed after that one and I stumbled over the sink.

I gathered myself and looked down at the fragments of glass lying spread out among the bathroom and the sink. I seen my reflection once more and I gritted my teeth and let out a sob that sounded almost like an insane laugh. 

I gently pick up a piece of glass and spin it around in my hand, it gleamed in the dying light bulb’s light. Its clean and straight lines were perfect.

The mirror, a thing to help ensure and improve a person’s beauty, will serve that purpose a final time before my mother scoops it all up and throws it away. I turned it so that I could see my fractured image reveal itself. My cheeks were raised into a grin and my eyes bulged with glee. I raise up the shard and I squeezed it tight feeling it open my palm’s surface.

I let the blood run down my arm and soak into my dark blue shirt and I drive the shard into the place my zit used to be, and I pull it down the left side of my face and guide it through my fresh welt. It stung beyond Hell, my body shuttered with pain as I went around my temple and just reaching my cheek, my horribly zited cheek. I screamed feeling my skin wrap tighter around the now slick glass and I felt my tears pour around and in the wounds stinging it further. I watched as the blood fell onto the dirty porcelain and over the faucet;  ‘I’ll be beautiful now.’ I think and laugh gently.

Before I could maneuver over my cheek bone, my brain pulsated again and my vision began to tunnel and then it all went black and I fell over and felt my head bounce off of the counter of the bathroom sink and the glass land on the tile with a ting.

What About Mrs. Carolina?

“So, what about Mrs. Carolina?” I asked,
“What about her?” Phil replied,
“Do we just leave her here?”
“Now why would we do that?”

Phil stood there with his arms crossed.

“I don't know, Phil.”
“Well, for fuck's sake, Pete,” he sighed as he lit a cigarette nervously, “We leave her here and then what?”
“Right. Right I get it,” I nodded, “It just seems kind of unnecessary, ya know?”
“Unnecessary? I think we're far off from the whole necessary and unnecessary thing ya think?”

Phil puffed out a breath of smoke into the stars, then stuck the cigarette back in his mouth and sucked in deeply.

“Yeah,” I said, “I guess so,”
“Besides,” he stated, “We can't just turn back now. It's way too late for that. If we do, this shit will be on our minds for the rest of our lives. We'll see Mrs. Carolina here every time we close our eyes if we don't take care of this,”
“Okay, Phil,” I said, “We'll do it.”
“Thatta' boy, Pete,” he gave me a quick pat on the shoulder and smiled, “come on. It'll be fun. Quit being so damn awkward all the time. Hell, I'll even let you have the head.”
“If you say so.”

He laughed and pat me on the shoulder again, then he took the cancer stick from his mouth and cast it onto the concrete and ground out the embers with the heel of his shoe. Then we went inside.
Mrs. Carolina knew how to decorate. Fine this, fine that-- her husband sure as shit didn't have a taste for fine things. Except, women. He knew how to pick 'em. Mrs. Carolina, with that golden hair of hers and those emerald eyes that just pierce you whenever she looks at you; and damn was she smart, I mean, she was a teacher after all. She was tough too, I like that in a woman, it gets me off when I know they can take control in an instant.
Mr. Carolina was out of town on business probably screwing an assistant in the room of some roach motel. Tonight was a perfect night for this. The kid gone. Just Mrs. Carolina.


Somewhere in the farther reaches of the house I could hear Mrs. Carolina's muffled voice speaking. Pete had her call her husband and check in. The call didn't last very long, Mr. Carolina made it brief, he probably was getting hard while a tan, young receptionist rubbed her soft hands all over him.
Pete and I turned into a hall lined with family photos and fill in photography of flowers or bees or anything nature like for that matter.

We came to a dark walnut door and Pete raised his hand in the cockiest damn way and gently knocked with that five cent grin of his. Without an answer he opened the door still holding that cheesy smirk on his face and we went in.

“Hey Mrs. Carolina,” Phil said slyly,
“Hey boys,” she said licking those cherry red lips of hers as she dropped the right side of her dress and exposed her pink, perky nipples. She stood up and let the rest of her clothing fall to the ground. Phil stepped behind her and felt her up a little and she knelt down in front of me, carefully placed her bottom on Phil's crotch and started to undo the button on my jeans,

“You still want the head right, Pete?” he said as he quickly undid his pants and shoved himself inside of her,
“Yeah, I do, Phil.”

She took me in her mouth and started to moan around me.