Not As It Seems

He lands hard on the floor. Falling what seemed like miles. His chest is in extreme, sharp pain as his lungs gasp for oxygen. There are terrifying sounds all around him. He has the sense of being in place of agony and suffering. Abandonment begins to overwhelm him. He has never felt so alone. He coughs and gags as the air rushes into him and feebly manages to lift his body up on his knees. It was then he could slightly focus on those sounds. They were screams. Screams of misery, torment and discomfort. It is everywhere.

Panic now sets in as his eyes still adjusting to the dim light. He puts his hands on the floor but quickly takes them off. At first it doesn't seem plausible, but when he lays them on the floor again, his judgment is confirmed. The floor is moving. Bubbling really. Like it is organic. Living. Unnatural. Noticing the walls and ceiling are the same organic material as the floor, he also discerns the size of the room he is in, the size of a traditional bedroom. As he tries to ground himself and stand, tentacles begin emerging out of the floor rapidly, slimy, slick, wrapping around his arms and legs, restraining him from moving. He starts to scream, adding to the other confusing screams he hears all around him.

"Help! Please! Anyone!" These are his screams for support and help. All unanswered. He is left there for what seems like hours. His body aching with hunger, but he didn't think he could eat. His throat begging for water but he hasn't the strength to even take a sip. His stomach wanting to throw up but nothing would come out. He longs to lay down, but the tentacles won't allow him. The tentacles with their slimy touch, restrict him from movement. The tentacles express a dark, red color with black lines streaming down them length wise. They honestly look disgusting, with this similar material to bone, protruding out at spots.

What is this? He thinks to himself. The general question lingers in his head for many moments.

Then he could feel its presence. Using the little strength in his neck he looks up to see the most horrific creature he has ever seen. It is a truly shocking sight. Not even his imagination could have manifested a monster so gruesome and frightening. It stands nine feet tall with a big frame and massive hands. It doesn't have any form of skin. He assumes it's only muscles that hold the creature together. It looks kind of like how a human would look like if it didn't have skin. The creature's muscle is charcoaled. The burnt muscle looks like fleshy steel. Hard as rock, but living tissue. Furthermore, the eyes were missing on the beast. Just hallow, black holes with flames pouring calmly outside of the empty eye sockets. Fingernails on the hands were long and sharp with a yellow, gray color to them. The monstrous beast just stares at the helpless man. He feels like the beast is looking right into his soul.

"No! Get away!" He knows saying that would do no good. Nothing would intimidate this creature. The creature takes a few steps towards him as tears begin to form in his eyes as pure fear engulfs him. A growl and a small snort is released from the beast. The creature doesn't have much of a nose, just two small holes on the face. Almost like two downward slits. The mouth is big with long sharp teeth. The face is rugged and scarred with beaten and abused features. The beast is now just a few feet away from the helpless man.

"Please no, God," he says with his eyes closed shut, not wanting to accept the beast in front of him. He has no clue of what's to come, but he is afraid of what it might be. The creature gives a small laugh, snorts again, then speaks in a demonic, sadistic voice.

"No. No God."

Tears are now streaming down the man's face. He can hear the other voices still screaming in pain and suffering. He knows he is in for the worst. After the beast speaks it lets out a long, shivering scream. Pieces of meaty particles are blown out of the beast's mouth, landing on the man's face. A stench so rank fills his nose and mouth. He wants to vomit. After the scream and with no warning the beast kneels and bites down on the man's left shoulder, tearing into flesh. Gnawing on the man's bones. A burning feeling of affliction races through his body as the beast chomps on his body. He screams so loud from the pain that he figures his own hearing would go out or his lungs collapse. Which ever came first. The tentacles lift up his left arm so the beast has a better angle to use its mouth to rip into the man's arm.

"Please, stop. No. No. No! Stop!" his cries fall on deaf ears as the beast bites through his arm.

The beast stands up growling and snorting. He looks to see whats remaining of his left arm, only to find ligaments and fleshy parts hanging out of his arm socket. On the organic floor next to him is what remains of his mangled, torn arm. He notices that there is no blood. None at all. Just muscle, bone and flesh. Agony still sears through the left side of his body. As the mans begins to look up at the beast, he feels a massive hand smashing into his face. The creature lands an awful right hook, connecting with the man's jaw. It hits him like a small truck. It almost feels that his neck should have broken right off and his head launched miles away. His mind is in a daze. He can't focus on anything. His mouth is babbling random words as his head tries to ground itself. The tentacles tighten around his limbs and begin to lift his body off the ground. With no left arm, a tentacle stabs into his left arm socket. He can feel it squirm inside him, nearing his collar bone. It moves upward inside his neck, then pokes out of the left side of his neck. With more of a grip on the man, the tentacles lift him up a few feet off the ground. The beast and the man are now eye level. The man starts gaining consciousness again. Just in time to see the creature dig his long, sharp nails in his chest, ripping it apart, tearing through his chest, throwing his organs to the floor and continuing to shred into his torso.

The man watches in horror as his body is mauled apart. The pain is so much his mind could barely process it. Still he notices that there is no blood. His body mangled and ripped and not a drop of blood anywhere. He should be dead, but isn't. The man groans and kicks trying to stop the menacing torture. Nothing works. The beast is enjoying this, tearing through his body. He could only imagine how many other people were here with him. He couldn't see any, but he hears them. And he is sure they hear him. This is Hell. He closes his eyes.

"Clear!" electricity courses though his nervous system. Trying to jump start his brain. Nothing.

"More juice. Clear!" His body convulses as more electricity rushes through his system. His eyes flutter and he feels a steady beat in his chest.

"We've got a pulse!" He feels someone lift his eyelids open and shine a light in them. Same with the other eye. He is lying down, his mind racing, trying desperately to make sense of what just happened. It was no dream. The creature is real. But how?

Opening his eyes he sees four to five people. All looking directly ahead of them. He hears the violent thunder of foot steps as the four to five people rush him to where ever they were going. He can see an IV over his head. One of those breathing masks is on his face, supplying him with air. He looks down at his body wondering if his body is still ripped apart. It wasn't and his left arm is there as well. He does see blood around his chest with a person applying pressure to the mysterious wound. His mind is blank and he feels hopelessly tired and exhausted. A heavy door is being pushed open with his gurney. He over hears a man talking about a victim of a gunshot wound by a house intruder and how they're going into surgery STAT.

* * * *

"Ahhhhh!" Bryan wakes up shaking. Lifting himself upright on his bed. His body slightly trembling. His head sweating. He pulls some of the blankets off his body, trying to cool himself off. He turns to the side, planting his feet firmly on the floor. He wipes some of the sweat off his forehead and puts a hand on his face.

"Honey? Are you okay?" His girlfriend sits up quickly wondering what is happening.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just a nightmare." A scary fucking nightmare, he thinks. She comes up close to him and hugs him from behind, trying to comfort him. He turns his head and kisses her on the cheek, thanking her for helping. He tells her he is just going to get some water.

"Okay stud, hurry up back to bed." With that Giselle lays back down on the tempur-pedic mattress. Letting its material conform to her body, feeling completely relaxed on it. He gets up off the bed, feeling tired and exhausted. He turns around to see his girlfriend laying down peacefully on the bed. He heads out of the room.

Wandering through the darkness toward the door, he makes sure he keeps quiet. Once outside the door he finds a light switch. Using his index finger he firmly flicks it on and the hallway light shines bright. His eyes adjust and he walks over to the kitchen noticing the cooler temperature. The tile floor is cold to his feet as he grabs a bottled water from the fridge. He takes a long, satisfying gulp and releases a sigh. What a nightmare, he thinks.

Bryan walks over to the slider door to go out on the balcony. He opens the slider door and steps out into the crisp, cool air. He immediately realizes he has no shirt on and can feel goose bumps forming on his chest, arms and neck. Setting the water bottle on a table next to him, he inhales for a long, deep breath. He is able to relax a little bit and feels his muscles loosen.

His attention is focused on the moon as it is very pronounced this night. The light from the sun reflecting off the moon, illuminating the earth. There is enough light to see the small lake from here. The man stares at the moon. Gazing straight at it, becoming slightly memorized from its appeal. His thoughts are on his dream. What it might mean and the fact it was not him in the nightmare. Just a random person in that hellish place. Why does he have these dreams? Scary and terrifying they were. No clue as to why. He just stands there, outside on the second floor balcony deep in his thoughts, watching the tree branches move in the wind as he listens to the soft sounds of the night.

"Baby are you okay?" His girlfriend comes up behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso. She can feel his muscle definition nicely. "Brr, its cold out here honey. Come back inside." She slightly tugs on his body, trying to pull him back inside the apartment. His body won't budge. He turns around to look at her. He kisses her on the lips as they share a sweet kiss.

"In a minute, I'm just trying to gather my thoughts." Bryan turns around again, gazing back at the beautiful moon. "Join me," he adds. Giselle tip toes over to the railing next to his right side. She looks at the moon too and begins to be drawn to it like he is.

"This really helps you, doesn't it?" she asks him indirectly, not really wanting an answer.

"It really does baby," he replies while exhaling a deep breath.

"Why though?"

"You know, I'm not really sure. I just . . . I don't know. I feel at peace. Nothing bothers me."

Giselle thinks about this for a few moments before asking him to follow her.

"Honey, I want you to come to bed with me." She moves closer to him and seductively wraps her hand around his body. She grabs his hand and pulls him back inside. He follows. Inside he closes the slider door and locks it.

He walks a step behind his girlfriend as she guides him back to bed. He can smell her sexy scent being expelled from her body. Her beautiful blonde hair waving to and fro as she sways her walk. He knows that she is putting a little extra in her step as he can see her ass moving more than normal. But he knows that she knows that he likes that. This is why she wants him back in bed.

In the bedroom she quickly gets him laying on the bed. She climbs on top of him, letting him know how much she wants him by grinding her body into his. His hands reach up to her hips to help guide her movements. His previous thoughts of his nightmare disappear like they never happened. His focus now is her ass grinding into his groin. He feels himself getting erect and she feels it too.

* * * *

Karina didn't even notice it, but is once again reminded that she is disturbing the people around her.

"Please, miss, be quiet. I don't want to ask you again." The librarian looks stern and upset, looking directly in her eyes.

"I'm sorry it's just a really good book." Karina doesn't even look at the women who is asking her to be a little more mute. She doesn't care right now. The love story gets even sexier and juicer. She has been in the library for a few hours now and is about halfway through the book.

She came in to find a book for a report she has to do for English class. But that was shoved aside when she found the book she is now consumed in. Pure genius, she thinks as she turns the page. The wording with the sex scene as it evolves when the two characters move from teasing each other to making soft, passionate love.

The novel keeps her from concentrating on her schooling, but right now it doesn't matter. All that matters are the feelings. How she feels as she reads on about their love making. The connection the two characters share in the book. How she craves for that same connection. With the couple now in the bedroom, coming in from the balcony, the characters begin to engage in foreplay. Her body is on his and she grinds into him. Soon the two characters are having sex. As the love making becomes more detailed, she begins to feels her body flutter and her own pussy becomes wet. Never before has a book affected her like this.

Page after page is turned as she reads further into the book. She can't stop reading the story as she is absorbed in this novel with every turn of the page. Looking at the clock in the left corner of the room, it had little hand at four, big one on six. She only has a couple more hours before she has to leave and has yet to work on her report. She tries to set the book down and get to work, but she can't; her hands deny her conscious decision to put the novel down. Subconsciously she knows she won't set this book down until she is finished with it.

The story moves on from the sex scene to the couple sleeping, then waking up in the morning. She reads as the couple plan out their day, deciding what to do. She feels a slight shiver of jealousy when the couple spends the day with each other. She continues to read, wanting more and more what the two share in the book.

Hours later she is nearly finished with the novel and not a moment spent on her report. Doesn't matter, she thinks. This story has affected her in a way she would have never thought. Its simple meaning with its complicated words and layout have shocked her at how good a book could really be. Happy with the ending of the story, the two lovers getting married and living their lives with each other, she reflects on the meaning of the story. Thinking about the struggles they had and how they over came them through communication and love. How she wants that she thinks for the millionth time.

Karina grabs the book, holding its sand papery cover, and brings it back to its rightful place on the shelves, walking to a corner of the library that holds mostly romantic novels. She places it back in its slot where it belongs. She purposely remembers the name of the book, knowing full well she will find it on Amazon or at Borders. This book is one she could read many times over and over. With the book back in its proper place, she knows she has work to do. She heads back to the table she was reading at ready to undertake the task at hand.

* * * *

Four tires grip hard on the slick surface, keeping the traction tight for his Nissan truck. Rain falls hard, keeping the pavement slick on the highway. With the cold temperature and wind chill, the water on the highway freezes quickly, making the well treaded tires even more crucial. The motor roars as the truck passes a car on the right. That wet sound of tires running over asphalt is muffled by the loud noise of the engine.

The beat of music echoes inside the interior of the truck. The volume set at a couple notches above loud. The music drowns out all outside ambient clamor. Static-X plays for him, helping him stay awake. The long day has taken a toll on him. 9:19 shines on the clock located in the center console. Forty more miles.

Jeremy sits in his truck cruising at a respectable speed of seventy-five miles per hour. With nothing to do but drive and think, he does exactly that. Every night and every day he drives fifty miles to work and another fifty miles back. Every night he thinks. Thinking about relationships, work, the economy. Tonight though he is thinking about writing those short stories he very much enjoys. He is trying to creatively manifest a new story. What would be the plot, characters, environment, etc.?. Then he thinks of something. A story about someone reading a story. He thinks more about it, trying to further conceive a plot. He then thinks of what it might be like in Hell. A random thought, he knows. But what if? He begins to form a general idea in his head.

Hell would have to be scary; a purely terrifying experience. He likes this idea. It is more of a curiosity than anything. His own interest fueling his mind to construct a exciting short story. Then another idea pops in his head. What if he could find a way to connect two different stories, but have it be more than just a story about a story? A man experiencing Hell only to find out it's a girl reading about it in a book. He is liking this concept more and more.

He only wishes he could make it longer. What if he adds another story in it? Something in the middle to connect the two already existing parts. Jeremy continues thinking as the drive back home becomes a journey of composing a story. Ideas begin to stream from him mind. He tries to pick out one he likes. Succeeding, Jeremy now has the idea of a part of the short story with a guy waking up from a nightmare. Perfect, he thinks. Experiencing Hell, a guy waking up from nightmare about the experience, then a girl reading a novel about the guy. This is getting better, he thinks.

Now Jeremy is fine tuning the story. Adding some things here, discarding stuff there. He finally thinks he has the story right. It will start off in Hell, with the man waking up in a hospital with a mysterious wound in his chest. Then the newly named character Byran will wake up from the nightmare about Hell. Then Karina will be the one reading a novel about Bryan and his girlfriend Giselle. The odd thing about him naming the characters is he can't give a name to the guy in Hell. No clue as to why.

The drive home is almost finished, down to the last ten miles or so. He is passing exit 5 on I-93, north-bound. The rain is still holding up as it pours down watering the trees all around the highway. He looks at his iPod, trying to find another song that will help him stay awake. Pantera look like it can fit the need so Jeremy clicks on "This Love." With the story mostly finished in his head he thinks about how his friend Deanna will react to it. No doubt she will like the part with Bryan and Giselle. She is into that mushy lovey-dovey stuff. Nothing wrong with that though. Jeremy actually added that part of the story just for her. Hopefully she would find it interesting and understand the plot. The,n he thinks about what his editor might think. Allison has helped him with editing and giving good ideas for his stories. It seems like she liked his stories so he hopes she will like this one as well, at least enough to edit it.

Close to exit 9N, Jeremy moves into the right lane. After taking the exit he gets on Hooksett Road. Almost home, he thinks. In a few minutes time he is pulling into his driveway. With the engine cut off, the music drowns out. He takes his backpack and slings it over his left shoulder. After closing the door, Jeremy walks to his front door fumbling with the keys, trying to locate his front door one. With success he unlocks the door and steps inside. Greeted by the sound of nothingness, Jeremy smiles. He takes off his boots and hangs his jacket.