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Blake Reads a Book

Blake Sing, a fifteen year old kid who often wandered around the town at night, was wearing his black hoodie and his black pants. Drivers had trouble seeing him at night with his all black hair and his all black shoes. The only thing that stood out in the night was his pale, flawless, white skin. He had strangely colored eyes and people often noticed those first before anything else. His eyes were a deep purple, something that brought girls of all ages, fourteen to early thirties, over to him. He wasn't a social person, he had maybe ten friends and only one best friend who was much much older than he himself. He was mature for his age and often found it hard to listen to the drull teachings of his elders. He was an avid reader and enjoyed reading in the night rather than during the day when kids would come by and drop things on his head, in his book, and throw insults at him. Nothing hurt Blake, not their insults, not their rocks and stones and knives and sharp bones. He paid no heed, nor turned his head to anything. But tonight he would. He was on his way to his favorite reading spot, the great elm on the edge of the forest. He knew there was a killer out, but his mother and father had gone out drinking and his bed wouldn't do the trick. He dragged his book in a black cover behind him. The title of the book was "The Climb."
He came to the elm, its bark gleamed and called to him. He answered the call and sat his back against the bark, opened his book, and began to read. He had brought a light attachment which he connected to his book so he didn't hurt his eyes. He bent his head down and began reading the tiny text about a walk that was hell and all the problems that led to it. He enjoyed reading these books, he enjoyed the author as well, read all of his works and his other selfs works, the real one. He felt the heaviness as he read on about the main characters climb up the mountain side.
A low hiss echoed from the woods, he paid no heed to it. The hiss was nothing but a snake or some other animal. The hissing drew closer and still he cared not. The animal would be gone, he knew it would be in his heart. And closer it grew, louder and louder, closer, closer, until he could ignore it no longer. He dropped the book and turned his gaze to the hissing town.
A garden snake had wandered into his reading zone, slowly slithering up to him, it's green hide blending in with the grass and objects around it. He didn't notice it at first, he only saw a little rustling in the grass, a little piece of leaf fall to the side. When he saw the snake, he went back to ignoring and turned his head back to his book.
A bloody hand was in the book, it was pointing at a word, some word he couldn't make out in the text because it was covered in blood. He stared at the hand and uttered a low cry, it was low sounding and barely audable. The hand pulled itself off his book and scurried into the woods. Blake watched it as the hand skittered arcoss the dirt floor. It fell, stood up, fell again. He stared disbelievingly the whole time. The hand reached the snake and it stopped. The snake slithered around the hand, curling around the fingers, spitting it's tongue out and hissing. The hand stayed calm, didn't move at all. Then, in a flash of flesh and blood, the hand ripped the snake apart. The snake was gone, the pieces thrown all across the ground. The head was the only piece intact. The hand held it in it's index and thumb, it juggled it along down it's fingers then brought ot back to the index and thumb. The hand threw the snake head in the air and Blake saw the palm.
The palm had a mouth, a deep maw that stretched on to eternity with rows and rows of teeth. Blake wondered how it was possible, how the hand held some sort of infinity maw while it was only as thick as a inch? The maw caught the mouth, it's teeth flexing outward and catching the head in it's infinity maw and it chewed. The chewing made Blake throw up, after all he'd seen the maw had been the worst. The hand turned towards him, the maw had changed into a slitted eye. The eye was vertical, the pupil a single yellow dot in an ocean of crimson. The eye watched him puke, watched him turn his head. The hand charged towards him, the fingers racing across the dirt. As it drew closer, the hand leaped into the air towards Blakes head, the fingers outstretched and the returned maw agape, hungry. Blake threw his arm up defencivly. The teeth caught on his forearm and started gnawing. Blake screamed in pain and terror, and grabbed the hand by it's wrist. He was expect it to come off easily, but the hand held firm to his flesh. Blake pulled with all of his strength, the hand held tighter and tigher, he saw it's knuckles fingers turn white and he knew it didn't want to let go. The hand was a hungry.
He finally managed to rip the hand free but the jaws ahd dug themselves deep. When he pulled it off, he pulled a chunk of meat from his forearm. The pain wasn't there, the adrenaline had taken over. Blake looked for a weapon and grabbed his book. He brandished it in front of the hand and waited. The hand flew again and Blake beat the hand out of the air with the cover of his book, knocking it aside and into the great elm tree whose bark glowed in the dark. The hand hit the tree and fell limp. The infinity maw closed, the fingers curled, straightened, curled. Blake wasted no time, he picked up his book, light, and ran home, praying the hand wasn't following.

Leonard Takes a Dive.

The pool gleamed in the sunlight and Leo stood just before it, smiling and dripping wet. He always swam in his grandmas pool in the summer, he'd take an hour walk and just jump in. His grandmother was at the store and he was left alone with nothing but the pool to keep him company. Around the pool was a white painted fence that stretched all around the house. The fence was taller than Leo, who stood a low 5'3. He was twelve and still rather short. All of his friends hit their growth spurt at such early ages and left him standing in the dust. But now he didn't care, now he was at his grandmas pool and he was swimming. Leo jumped into the pool, dived to the bottem. He kept his eyes open in spite of the heavy chlorine and the burning pains that came with it. He had asked his grandma to pick up some goggles, preferably in his favorite color, orange.
Leo swam to the bottem of the pool and touched the floor, feeling it and pushing back up to the surface of the water. He felt the water drip down his shoulders, the cold shiver it gave him after being in the heat of the sun. Leo shook his head, sending drops of water in every direction. He splashed and kicked and laughed and dived again, this time he dived all the way to the bottem and sat in the water.
He saw the white lines that covered the floor of the pool and simply gazed at them. He heard a strange noise coming from behind him and turned his head. He saw the pools filter and thought of how he used to put his hand there and feel the funny vibrations and how it tickled him. The voice grew louder suddenly and he realized he'd been moving toward the vent.
This isn't right, I'll need air soon! He thought, and started swimming to the surface. But he stopped right in the middle and looked at the vent, he was curious as to where the sound was coming from. Maybe I'll just see what it is. Won't take more then a few seconds.
He swam to the filter and listened closely. He heard laughing, giggling, and a pile of voices falling over each other. They all seemed to say the same thing but not in unison, it was a chaotic mix of voices.
"Join us!"
"We want a new friend!"
"Come on Leo!"
"Don't wuss out!"
"Swim with us!"
Leo moved closer to the pump, saw the air around it sucking at him, but didn't care. He wanted to swim with his new friends. He eased closer and felt it sucking him in, Leo outstretched his hand and plunged it into the pool pump. He felt a dim pulling feeling, then he couldn't breath. The voices sang to him, telling him all was going to be alright. He felt tired after a few moments and he saw a crimson cloud erupt from the pump. He couldn't feel his hand anymore. The pump sucked his whole arm into it and he didn't feel the pump, he felt teeth.
Horror dawned on him and he tried in vain to pull his arm free from the pump-mouth but it wouldn't let go. It just pulled harder and harder. His whole shoulder was in it and his eyes were dim. Leo stared at the lines at the bottem of the pool, and that was the last thing he saw. Dimly, he thought he could swim away, but even his childish mind knew it was no use. He'd sunk. He drowned. He was a floater.

James Watches T.V.

Midnight. Tired and hungry, James wades through his piles of pop cans and empty sandwich bags to his old television. He had been up the entire day drinking, eating, and playing his video games. It was a strangely tiring thing to do, but he kept himself up long enough to finish his last few games. Most of his friends barely saw him anymore and his mind was locked in the world of the video game. He was an addict and the controller was his needle. He'd push every night, get a high, and go to bed. It wasn't as dangerous as cocain or heroin or any other sorts of drugs, but it was still dangerous and he had gotten fatter because of his habit. He never noticed, he only cared about his video games. James had quit his job at the laundry mat and had left his girlfriend for a blow-up sex doll, he'd quit everything just to spend time with his controller. Even his feet were covered in food, and he smelt like old ketchup. He hadn't taken a shower in two months and his skin had turned a pale white from the lack of sunlight. Dirt and food crumbs stuck to his beard, which he'd been growing since he left the real world.
James reached his T.V. and slumped in the tattered chair sitting right in front of it, the puke pattern matching the floor below it. Next to the chair was a bucket, which he'd shat and pissed in while he played. The bucket's rank oder emitted into his room. He grasped his controller in his fat hands and turned the console on. The console itself was covered in brown smears and cans of soda. As soon as the start screen came on, James got an erection. He was a true addict to these games and even now he played one where it was more of a porno than an actual game. He sat back and his dirty, oily, brown hair touched the tough fabric of his chair. James pulled a lever and his legs were held up by a stand.
He played his games for a whole night and didn't stop once, not even when he heard his door creak open, or when a black figure approached him out of the corner of his eye. He ignored it and kept playing. The creature reached him and placed it's dark fingers on the chair. In the dark, it's white teeth flashed and smiled at him. But he kept playing, not realizing the impending danger he'd been pulled into. The dark creature tapped it's claws on his hair, drawing tiny droplets of blood. The creature sniffed his pale skin, wrapped it's arms around his fat, grease covered, body. Heignored it, thinking he was hallucinating. He kept playing and playing. The creature opened it's jaws and lifted itself above him. The mouth came down and James uttered a low screech before the mouth engulfed his entire body, save his fat arms. His fingers managed to achieve their great skill of saving his game before the teeth shredded his fat body in half and ate him. A trail of intestines stuck between the dark creatures teeth, and it slurped it up like a noodle.