Nyarlathotep

Nyarlathotep steps into the courtyard and looks around at the attendees. He pushes his black hair out of his face and strolls up to the fire, slumping down unceremoniously. He looks around, frowning at the sausages and chili, being a vegetarian, but doesnt say a thing. He's here to make friends, not to start an argument. He pulls out a pack of smokes and lights one in the fire. "So, how's everyone doing? New here so I figured I'd come to one of these functions and get to know some of ya." He reclines against a rock.

**Warning** This story is a bit graphic, but I didnt feel it was enough to warrent being put into The Scarlet Pen. Life continued as it always had. Feeble apes going about our days. Living in our luxury boxes; paper ceilings, padded floors. Toiling away to earn bits of paper and metal to trade for other's ideas. Raping the very womb we were spawned from to no foreseeable end. It happened in a fortnight. They came from out of the corner of your eye, through the glazed wall of heat off blacktop, through the fog of a fever, from the imagined spheres behind your eyelids. The portals opened in reality like so many menstruating uteruses, ensanguining us with refuse. These beings spread across the land leaving filth and disease in their wake. This was not an invasion, merely a migration of excrement. They left as quickly as they came. Those still alive enough to, were left in a daze. No one really could understand what had happened, except that a trail of all encompassing leprosy had rended it's way through us. Though these faceless plague bringers moved on with haste, those afflicted with their bane did not. The death throes of the pus riddled went on for weeks...months...years. What they had rout upon us was so varied and unique, no one treatment was all encompassing. Death was not feared, it was welcomed with opened arms. Billions rotted in our vehicular arteries. The cosmos had left us coated in a thick viral ejaculate. As if turning our physical form against us wasnt enough, our spirit was crushed under the weight of Nature's passover. Not one other organism was affected by this neo-black death. Not the acres of future paper, nor the soon-to-be plastic packaged raw muscle. We raged at the realization. Raged at nature, raged at each other, simply raged. Our Gods commanded us to cleanse, our leaders commanded us to fight, our instincts commanded us to kill. The spiral of suffering traveled ever downward towards oblivion. As humanity gasped it's last breath, we looked towards the stars and suddenly saw for the first time. What little mind was left un-atrophied awakened truly the first time. But it mattered little that we had finally moved forward as a sentient race, for as we finally understood ourselves and our place in the universe, we died. Our last exhaled breath choked back by blood and pus. A fitting end for one such as we.

Sand choked the street as I made my way slowly. The sun was in it's 3:00 PM position, making my already poor vision almost nonexistent. I stumbled across the unevenly laid cobble stone, tripping once or twice. The howl of the wind was my only companion. Groping blindly, I felt the wall of one of the many ancient homes. Hope returned as now I had a manner with which to find my way. I felt along the wall, moving carefully. After some indeterminable amount of time, I cam to the entrance of one of these basalt dwellings. I pulled myself inside. I stood there for a moment enjoying the feeling of the calm as the wind angrily whipped outside. Shaking the sand off of my tunic, I pulled off the headpiece and goggles. I dropped the head accessories in the pouch slung over my shoulder and grabbed my water satchel. I took a mighty swig. My mouth went from mirroring the climate outside to being the damp marsh it usually was. I took a small amount of water and splashed it on my face, rubbing away the dirt. I stared at the leather puch. On it's side was imprinted a smiling narwhal giving me the thumbs up. My daughter was always leaving these little prints all over my things. I dont think she realized just how much they meant to me. I slung the water holder and began looking around. It was like every other one of the archaic dwellings, large entrance room, smaller rooms to the immediate right and left and what had been come to be known as "the closet". These claustrophobic rooms were only two feet wide and barely six feet tall. My eyes scanned the room. Nothing...wait. As I looked right, my peripheral vision caught something in "the closet". I turned back to see something nestled in the right back corner. Something green. I knelt down in it's entrance excitedly. My hopes were dashed immediately when I realized that, yes, it was a plant life, but it wasnt alive. In my excitment I had completely ignored the fact that my ACD hadnt gone off. I should have realized that the plant wasnt alive. I examined it none-the-less. It was badly singed, but some green still showed through the blackened tissue. But it was dead, and dead for some time. There wasnt any viable RNA left. I ripped the dead thing out of the crack in the floor and hurled it across the room. It landed at the threshold of the entrance. I slumped down against the cracked wall and closed my eyes. Flaunt Direct Metamorphosis Scenery

...And now for some lowbrow movie reviews by our resident crawling chaos! Grandma's Boy - A fun, surprisingly well written stoner comedy. I'll boil it down: if you dont enjoy films in the vein of Harold and Kumar and Half Baked or havent even a passing interest in video games, dont bother. Otherwise sit back and enjoy probably the most accurate depiction of hardcore gamers in cinema. Smokin' Aces - A Tony Scott-esque film(stark colors, jerky camera work, "crazy" plot twists) which cant decide wether it wants to be Domino(fun and flashy) or Man on Fire(deep and provocative). Slither - Comedy/Horror about red, phallic worm parasites from space turning the residents of a small redneck town into zombies. Delivers exactly what it promises. Goofy one-liners, Freudian inuendo scenes and lots of fake blood. Worth a watch.

destruction

A little something I threw together in about a 45 minutes. Hope it's up to snuff. The death of a universe. Something which one would have never thought to become a mundane occurrence. But here we are, at the edge of known space, watching a miniature black hole pump pure matter into a pocket dimension. Now we're placing an infinitesimal amount of anti-matter within the minuscule universe. As the two building blocks of existence come together, the laws of physics begin to bend. Now they break. Small twists in space-time become tears. The infant reality folds in on itself and simple ceases to exist. Of course none of this was visible by the naked eye. Professor Webb and I were hunched over a surprisingly small display screen in the makeshift research lab of the My Final Heaven. New, undefinable emissions registered on screen as the pocket dimension and the black hole collapsed. Webb rubbed his eyes and sighed with relief. This was our 7th attempt. Finally we had acquired what we came here for: raw data from a planar collapse. We had been aboard this military ship for 14 months now, much to the annoyance of the crew, preforming our experiments. The university had used what little political clout it still retained from it's hayday to get this ship to drag us out to deep space. And of course, the crew was about to take it's first shore leave in 3 years...which we put a stop to. This made us quite unpopular. I stood up straight and cracked my neck. I pulled out my pack of smokes and went to light one. Before I even had the cancer stick to my lips I remembered that this entire ship was a Class B vessel, meaning that it didnt have an atmosphere filter. All the air was recycled without purification. This of course meant that I couldnt smoke and that we had been breathing the same air for 14 months straight. Military budget cuts at their finest. Webb punched a few keys, logged off the system and rose from his chair. He smirked at me as I replaced my cigarettes in defeat. "I feel your pain bud." He stretched his arms and yawned. "I'm going up to the bridge to give the captain the final report. He could easily read the report I just sent to his office, but he's a stickler for archaic military protocol. So I'm off. See you later." Before I had a chance to respond, he walked out. "Ok, so I guess I'll just go to bed then." I said to no one. My words hung in air as I stood, listening to the hum of the ship. I turned and looked out the small window to my right. Space looked as it always did, black with points of light. No sign of the act of annihilation we had committed.

The wicked grin that spilt his face made her cringe. She would have prefered buying from someone else, someone a bit less creepy, but this was the only dealer that her friend trusted. So she had made the sojourn, across town, to this eerie apartment building. He had met her in the musty hallway of the delapedated building, obviously expecting her arrival. The moment she saw him, she knew it was her friends "guy", the ratty navy jacket and hunched posture gave him away. "So...you have some FL?" she inquired, trying to keep the quivering out of her voice. He smiled and simply nodded. Reaching into his olive green trench coat, he pulled out a small black object. It's shape was reminiscent of small writing pad, sans metal spiral. He tossed it to her suddenly, causing her to barely catch it. The young girl bit her lower lip as she glanced at the shady dealer, then slid open the slim, black case. Inside were four shallow impressions. Within each was a dark red dermal pad. Four derms of Flog, her drug of choice. She slid the case closed and smiled nervously at the hunchbacked man before her. She grabbed a small roll of bills from her pocket. Thinking for a moment, she tossed it to the purveyor of illicite substances. She turned and walked out quickly, leaving the man with the evil smile to his money. She delicately pulled one of the derms out of it's den and slapped it on her right wrist. All chaos broke loose behind her eyes. White hot pain tore it's way through her nervous system. Sweet, scintillating pain. The girl staggered into a light pole as wave after wave of sensation washed over her. As with most things, everyone's experience was different. The way she described it was as if millions of fire ants were biting into her muscles. They bit, but did not tear, merely turning and twisting the flesh until it was raw. A familiar smile spread across her face as she collected herself and rode the pain all the way back home. Ocean Leftovers Madness Traitor

My girlfriend(Whiskey in Babylon) defered me here, since I do a lot of writing in my spare time. She said that this is a great place to get some constructive criticism and just hang with some like minded people. So...yeah...greetings!