HORROR FEATURE THE SILVER AXE A SHORT HORROR STORY BY JIM MCLEOD

The axe hit the driver of the car coming towards me, crashing through the windscreen like a silver meteorite of death, to penetrate her deeper than any lover had.

Seven years ago a book hit the shelves that if you you believed it would turn anyone into a horror writer, it consisted of nothing but terrible cliched phrases, there was no writing tips, to guides to style, grammar, or even the most basic of writing tips.  

So I took the challenge to write a short story based on the book, I thought I had lost it forever, but thanks to Facebook memories I appeared on my Facebook timeline today, so folks here it is the one and only time I will ever write a piece of fiction, well apart from the note I leave my partner telling her what housework I did today.  

"The axe's silver head sang, severing life from limb. Which was rather annoying as it was a shit song. Why I was driving with a singing axe in the seat next to me I could not tell. It was at that point that the old lady flew over my windscreen like a sack of broken bones. Christ I thought that witch should really see a Dr she looks like death warmed up.

Then I realised that I should never have taken my eyes of the road, as it was at that point I hit him, and the wheels of mechanized death paved over his life, leaving tire tracks of hot death on his soul. It was at this point the axe decided to pipe up again......

"See I told you you were a shit driver”. Sick and tired of his cheek I threw the shiny little bastard out of the window with all the force this tired man could muster. Damn it I should have remembered that you shouldn't throw things out of the drivers side window. The axe hit the driver of the car coming towards me, crashing through the windscreen like a silver meteorite of death, to penetrate her deeper than any lover had.

Blood sprayed into the interior of her car like a fountain of blood. Death was instantaneous, well for her any ways.

The car jack knifed and careened into the gas station which erupted in white phosphorus explosions torching flesh into bone. My eyes bulged in fright at the thing. It was more than fright, it was a freezing of my soul.

It was at this point when a crazed form crept out at the shadows and stared at the now smouldering wreck, and the deader than dead corpse in the car. The lobster bibbed lunatic came at the girl with a knife and fork. The slobbering psycho sliced at away at her pregnant belly to get at the tender child meat inside of her. He then moved on to the less prized meat, her stolen eyes were quickly taken bursting like black grapes in the cannibals mouth.

I had to do something, I had to fight against the cold worm of fear that gnawed at my spine. My heart hammered in my chest like a cold steel hammer. Threatening to burst forth like that alien in that film that was written far better than this pile of piss. Oh how I wished I was a better narrator.

Shame and desire mingled hot in my throat. It was at this point I picked up a rock and crept towards the cannibal who was too busy to notice both my approach and hot hell of rage that burned behind my eyes.

As I crept closer the brambles pricked me, hungry for blood, as the trees coked the sun from the sky, plunging me into a primal darkness. It probably wasn’t a good idea to build a gas station right in the middle of a spooky forest, but hey what town planners are like. Why this thought came to me as I drew close the slobbering beast before me, just goes to show that I know nothing about building tension.

As I drew closer I could see that the lobotomy scar wasn’t the only sign of his madness. A shrill laugh burbled over his lips as he cracked open her skull eager to get to the sweat grey meat of her feeble woman’s mind. With his scarred misshapen faced buried in the ragged remains of her cranium, I decided to make my move. The rock rammed into the man’s skull with a meaty splat. I brought the rock down again pulping flesh, bones and teeth into one bloody mass. Like a hungry black snake the road rose up to meet his bloody corpse.

Once I was sure he was dead and no longer a threat I looked over at the remains of the woman driver. She radiated a sinister magnetism that drew me like flies to dustbin. The irony of which wasn’t lost on me as her ravaged head was already home to a buzzing mass of big fat bloated bluebottles. Blood started to throb in my veins like a scarlet web of desire. My pulse quickened with forbidden longing, I was powerless to stop myself from undressing. The steam from her splattered blood lent the scene an almost soft focus soft porn feel. I could almost hear the heavy bass line of a 1000 pornos playing in my mind. What we shared wasn’t love it was madness.

The wood was deadly silent, as though every animal that inhabited was hanging their head in shame at what they had just witnessed. I wasn’t proud of what I had just done, I never knew I was capable of such things. I couldn’t decide who as more vile me the corpse shagger or the cannibal that decided to eat her. It was then I heard a feral cry, the sort of cry that no animal should be able to make. I scrambled to pull up my trousers, embarrassed and scared, like a teenage boy getting caught pissing in the sink by his mother. The scream was followed by a crash of timber. I wonder if it would have made a sound if I wasn’t there to hear it."