Soul Snatcher

Reads: 685  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 7

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is for Victoria who has inspired me to imagine things outside my comfort zone.

WARNING -- This story includes extreme violence of the most depraved sort. If you are easily offended, please do NOT read any further.

"Make him go away, Mama. Pleeeeease!" Carla pleaded with all the intensity she could muster. Although her voice was failing, the child's croaking whisper had the impact of a cannon shot straight to the heart, the impact that only a mother can experience.

"Who is that, honey?" Mrs. Hertz asked in her most comforting tone.

"The man at the foot of the bed, Mama. The one in the black coat; the one without a face."

"Oh, sweetie, he's noting to be afraid of. I promise I won't let him harm you. Just close your eyes, and I'll make him go away."

Sylvia Hertz backed out of her daughter's room slowly and quietly. She turned off the light and closed the door, hoping that complete darkness would rid her child of the dreadful specter that hovered at the foot of her death bed.

The doctors had been completely honest with the Hertz family. They had explained every step that could be expected as the cancer dissolved the girl's bones from the inside out. Little Carla, barely past her ninth birthday, had reached stage six, the point at which even morphine was no longer of any use, the point at which the pain had become so unremitting that her mind had begun to create delusions in a desperate, last ditch effort to ease the discomfort. The girl was now within hours of death, a day at the most. There was only one option left.

Sylvia Hertz phoned the home healthcare nurse and whispered, "She's hallucinating."

The woman arrived in a quarter hour. She administered the one medication stronger than morphine, the drug that would ease the child's pain permanently. Of course it was illegal, a first class felony to be precise, but nurses are mothers too, and mothers share a secret bond that is never broken. The nurse was in no danger of being arrested.

"I hope you're satisfied, motherfucker." the nurse hissed at the imaginary man at the foot of the bed. "One of these days, I'm going to stick this needle in you, you evil bastard, and I'm going to stick it so far up your ass that it'll puncture your adenoids."

"Nooooooooo!" Carla pleaded as the man without a face ripped the soul from her body, the body that had begun to decay even before the child had breathed her last breath. He brutally twisted her arms behind her back as he dragged her, kicking and screaming, all the way to Hell. It was all in a day's work for a soul collector, and this kid was just another ordinary pain in the ass.

The boss was livid. "You've fallen way behind in your quota, Clarence." he said as he angrily pounded his fists together. "We're trying to run a business here. We have a reputation to uphold. You should have had that kid here a week ago."

"Yes, sir, it won't happen again." Clarence replied sheepishly, but he knew it probably wouldn't be his last late delivery because he was facing the same nagging problem that all soul snatchers were having lately. The livestock on the soul farm, the bipeds with opposable thumbs, the ones still passing through the flesh and blood stage, were endowed with a rudimentary form of intelligence. They were forever devising new ways to prolong life, delaying the soul harvest. It was an occupational hazard to everyone in Clarence's line of work. He would make his apologies to the butchers when he delivered the child, but he doubted it would do any good.

Among soul eaters, Carla would be haute cuisine. An innocent was the veal of that realm. Untainted by the unpleasant acids and tannins that a soul acquires upon the awakening of sexual urges, she would be the tastiest, most expensive meal at the unending feast of the netherworld. The guests of honor would get the savory parts, the sweetest being carved from the areas closest to the anus. The caviar made from the eggs of her ovaries washed down with the milky semen of soldiers killed in combat would be served to royalty. Her vagina, of course, would be reserved exclusively for the Lord of Fire himself.

Although her physical body had been emaciated, her soul had grown plump and juicy, tender and delectable. The guests applauded with approval as she was led into the banqueting hall. Naked, she was thrown crudely on the table and held down before the Lord of Fire, where the His Majesty, the First of the Feast, sampled her succulence. He thrust his raspy tongue deep into all of her orifices and pronounced her fit. The crowd roared with lust.

The butchery took place right there on the table. Carla was overwhelmed with horror as expertly wielded knives stripped her of her skin. Her breast buds were presented to the Queen of Ashes, the Second of the Feast, on a golden tray, the ritual officially beginning the gluttonous orgy.

Carla's screams of pain provided the "music" for the event, and her pleadings for mercy were the source of "humor". She remained conscious to the end. Her useless parts, her hair and fingernails, were sent to the dungeon to feed the slaves who stoked the fires of Hell, and finally, her brain was fed to the dogs guarding the gates. Only then did the pain stop, once Carla had ceased to exist body and soul.

Copyright © 2015 W.C. Bell; All rights reserved.


Submitted: February 20, 2015

© Copyright 2022 Whiskey Charlie. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Comments

B Douglas Slack

Whoa! This is really gr...uesome. I do have to wonder, though, what a six-year old girl did that was so bad. Top notch, WC.

~Tom

Fri, February 20th, 2015 8:34pm

Author
Reply

Okay, this story was just an experiment to see if I could write something evil. By the way, it had nothing to do with the girl's being good or bad. Soul snatchers work for the highest bidder and don't care about the morality angle. Anyway, thanks for the read and for commenting.

Fri, February 20th, 2015 1:00pm

Joe kennedy

that got darker quick.
really well written.
most of us have had the nightmare of the man at the end of our bed, the thought of him being real, chills the blood.
you should consider your experiment succesful, you can certainly write evil.
thanks for the story, keep them coming

Fri, February 20th, 2015 10:22pm

Author
Reply

Thank you for the read and the kind comments.

Fri, February 20th, 2015 3:16pm

B Douglas Slack

Ah, I didn't know that about Soul Snatchers. Next time I see one ... um, maybe that's not a good idea.

Sat, February 21st, 2015 3:46am

Author
Reply

You know, Tom, there is a kernel of real life truth to the story. One of my neighbors died young of bone cancer. His mother told me about the hallucinations that occur at the end stages when morphine is no longer effective. The "Make the man at the foot of the bed go away." is real. It was awful hearing the story from a widow who had just lost her son, but it made the old lady feel better to talk about it, to get it off her chest, to share the burden with someone kind enough to hear her out. The rest is fiction (thank God).

Fri, February 20th, 2015 8:19pm

Serge Wlodarski

Good job of exploring a new direction. I'm always looking for a different angle.

Sun, February 22nd, 2015 3:44am

Author
Reply

Thanks for the read and for taking the time to comment.

Sat, February 21st, 2015 8:00pm

Adrian Hunt

Christ, Whiskey! What did Victoria DO TO YOU?! Lol! Great to see something a bit different from a great writer. Good work!

Sun, February 22nd, 2015 5:38pm

Author
Reply

Ha. Ha. Victoria just gave me inspiration. Her name is Victoria Quinn if you want to look up her profile page. Like I mentioned elsewhere, this was just an experiment to see if I could tell a story outside my normal genres. Anyway, thank you for the kind and encouraging remarks.

Sun, February 22nd, 2015 9:44am

Victoria Quinn

First off, thanks Charlie for the dedication. That was sweet of you and I'm honored. I'm also thrilled if I was some sort of "pseudo-muse" for you to get you out of your comfort zone. Now that you've broken out, it feels great doesn't it? Noticed how all your fans, after picking themselves up off the floor after being shocked by your "new" subject matter, were still so supportive? Now for your story. It was horror perfection. I loved the whole original concept of soul collectors being like mercenaries ready to deliver you to the highest bidder, whether that be Heaven or Hell. That pretty much kicks organized religion right out of the whole picture. It was so awesome how you twisted and turned the plot inside out, choosing not to go down the tired path of some "poor little innocent sick girl whose called to Heaven to dance amongst the angels". Instead, she's dragged to hell to serve as some Psycho-Sexual feast. Carving up her body parts and serving each part to the various class structures of Hell to use for their perverted delights was pure genius and so deliciously (pun intended) gruesome! Even the dogs of hell got a bit to eat. Just awesome Charlie!! I loved it!

Thu, February 26th, 2015 9:11am

Author
Reply

Thank you, Victoria. Violence and gore not being my typical subjects, I had no idea if I was on the right track. Given your penchant for the genre, I am thrilled at your positive response. It means I was able to push the right buttons. Thank you again for being kind enough to comment at length.

Thu, February 26th, 2015 1:37am

Facebook Comments

More Horror Short Stories

Other Content by Whiskey Charlie

Short Story / Fantasy

Short Story / Fantasy

Short Story / Fantasy