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 Splatterhouse: Malicious Enrapturement, Fanfiction Son.
Posted: Jan 15 2009, 06:20 AM


Group: Student
Posts: 34
Member No.: 212
Joined: 5-December 08

(This is quite obviously a little piece of fanfiction for Splatterhouse. I'd hope most of you here would know the game series, but if not it's a horror themed, gory beat em up series found on the Turbo Graffix 16 and the Sega Genesis. A new revival of the series is scheduled for a PS3/360 release this year...I can't wait. This was a piece I wrote as celebration to that news. Enjoy.)

My own rasping breath awakens me to what any normal individual could only call a nightmare. I wish I could see it as such, but as I begin to pull myself up from the dirt below I know better. The shallow breathing, inhale, exhale, reverberating back and fourth from inside the mask. Yes...the mask. The Terror Mask as I've come to understand it is called. Much more of a curse than a blessing in retrospect, but I find...I need it.

The thing fits to my face like a second skin, the ominous pearl white skull-like appearance does nothing to give the impression of it's unearthly durability. It urges me on, it knows my weaknesses and my itself is both. I know no fear under it's visage, my physical strength knows few humanly limits under it's guise. The sky is dark overhead, tall trees block out most of the moonlight and broken down brick walls surround me.

My contemplation of the situation is cut abruptly short as something shambles toward me. Instinctively my head shoots up, bloodshot eyes wide with rage, with adrenaline...ready, willing...hungry. I take in it's grotesqueness, dripping with pus, mangled, disfigured. It makes no sound other than the squishing of it's jerky movements. And I lunge, unsure if it's of my own will, but I pounce the thing, fists hammering through it's tissues. Knuckles smashing through bone, sinew and muscle. Hot gore bathes my forearm as my fist disappears into the pit that was previously it's face. It twitches and writhes, but it has met defeat. The convulsions shuddering through the carcass...a smile forms on my face under the mask. It...I..we crave more.

Lost in the moment again I don't catch the blindside by the hulking monstrosity from my rear. The impact sends me sprawling and I collapse through a crate of rotting foodstuffs. Maggots wriggle and squirm under my back as I roll to avoid another attack, finding a chunk of wood from the crate before coming to my feet. Flimsy, but enough to kill. The beast bounds for me again, it's deeply sunken eyes wild, it's arms flexing as it swings, barely missing my face, grazing the mask. I jab the broken wood forward, tearing into the soft abdomen of my adversary, it digs deep into the bowels, entrails spilling over my hand now. The creature stops, sinking to it's knees before me as it's guts splash to the ground, piling over my feet.

It howls, an inhuman, ugly howl. Again I smile as my hands find their way around it's head, twisting and pulling. Bone snaps audibly followed by tendons ripping, the howl turns to a low gurgle as the head tears from the neck. The eyes still wide, they blink and flicker and the mouth moves once more. I throw the thing, grinning from ear to ear as it splatters and slides down the shambled brick wall behind me leaving a trail of filth. My breathing slows and I begin to remember that through the carnage, somewhere Jennifer needs me...if she's still breathing herself. The mask speaks inside my head, like the echo of hell itself, it promises my quest is not in vain. It lusts for more bloodshed, and I have no choice but to obey. It can bring me to Jennifer, it can soak a thick coating of hatred over what would otherwise be fear and weakness. And I can bring it the butchery it makes me enjoy.

Tilting my head back I catch a glimpse of the full moon overhead through the foliage. My adrenaline begins to pump again, my mind is injected with malice so deep it is impenetrable. Every muscle in my body tightens and a wave of near omnipotence washes over me. Again I smile, thinking of the havoc that is sure to come. A solid punch tears down what is left of the grime encrusted brick wall, and I step into the oppressiveness of what is left of the West Mansion. The forces of hell prowl the wreckage, each eagerly waiting to rip me limb from limb. They are not ready for me...they are not ready for us.

Laugh and the world laughs with you. Weep and you weep alone.
"I'm too old for this horseshit. Hell I was too old for this horseshit 15 years ago."
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