|How Many Biscuits
Author: Forgetful Mailman PM
My first real attempt at horror. Psychic ghoulies. Deaths of children. Fun, fun stuff.Rated: Fiction M - English - Horror/Supernatural - Chapters: 11 - Words: 8,321 - Updated: 04-29-13 - Published: 05-06-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3019961
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Hey guys, my name is Mark—Markasm Schasm—proud holder of the catchiest name on the planet. I have ADHD, I never take my medicine, I'm in special ed., I've been held back 2 grades, and I have an unhealthily unhealthy obsessive obsession with the opposite sex.
I have these kickass sneakers that are pretty much soundless, I carry around my lucky sling wherever I go, and I have (no lie) SUPERNATURAL luck that I can arrogantly trust in whenever I get into trouble at least 90% of the time.
Remember when the teacher said there were two students missing from the head count? Yep, one of them would be me.
"Who are you talking to?"
Ah, and that would be the other guy, my lame brother. He doesn't understand I have a fantasy I need to live out. He always interrupts me when I'm trying to narrate my personal life and make myself seem like a hero.
"You seriously need help Mark, I swear to god."
Doesn't understand… nope, just doesn't understand.
"Dude, it's getting dark and I'm freaking out. Our entire class is dead, we don't know what those freaks are that killed them, and we need to find a way back to the home."
"Yes, I know that…"
"Shit! Damn it! I wasn't talking to you! Stop ruining my moments!" Mark shouted.
Corey glanced at him warily.
"And now the narrator is that anonymous, omniscient guy again!" Mark shouted.
"Shhh! Shit dude, you're too loud!" Corey snapped breathily.
"He's making me shout!" Mark shouted.
There was a slight breeze then a faint rumbling sound that made Corey squirm. "What the hell was that?"
Mark, recognizing the source, rubbed a hand over his abdomen. "Sorry dude, I'm pretty damn hungry."
"What the heck man! You scared the shit out of me!"
"Dude! What about that pack that that one hot chick with the white eyes dropped! She said they were just filled with biscuits!"
Corey recognized his hunger too but resisted. "Dude, no way I'm running in there with all those stinking corpses just to get myself a little snack."
Mark immediately strode forward before Corey finished his sentence. "Suit yourself then."
Corey looked up at his departing brother. "You aren't seriously going to—"
"Dude, I'm hungry! And we have a food source! I don't see what the big deal is."
"There are BODIES over there… DEAD BODIES…"
"Yeah? And? They aren't covering the biscuits with blood or nothing! C'mon dude, a li'l food will help us think."
And they jogged back to the clearing, hiding behind the occasional bush or tree. Once they returned to the nearby said environment, they gaped at what they saw—or didn't see. "Where are all the dead bodies?"
Corey stared horrified from a bush that was closer to the area than preferred. "Damn dude, hurry up and get that bag so we can eat and get the hell out of here!"
Mark darted forward, grabbed the pack, and darted back. Like a breeze.
"Did you see anything?" Corey asked.
"The bodies are gone, there's still the occasional dark splotch of blood on the ground, but I didn't see any pieces…" he looked at the pack he held in his arms and his mouth watered a little. "Let's eat!"
They opened it. Three biscuits remained in the pack. Mark looked at Corey with an expression that read something along the lines of "There is no way I'm splitting one of these with you."
Corey scowled "How many biscuits are you even thinking about letting me have?"
Mark blinked and grinned, "None of them."
Corey grabbed the pack and took off into the woods.
"Oh hell no, you little gremlin!" Mark darted off after him laughing.
Mark and Corey were orphans at birth adopted by a wonderful couple that raised them to be great kids, but then they died. During a trip to the beach, their step father went surfing; he was grabbed by a shark that confused him to be a seal and was torn to bits. Their mother, trying desperately to take care of the children after that tragedy, was stricken by lightning two weeks later when she was out in a thunderstorm for reasons unknown.
They were sent to an orphanage for the second time, but did not allow anyone to take them apart from each other. Several occasions arose when Mark or Corey were offered adoption alone, but they would not be separated. Time continued on and the orphanage allowed them to become a part of a nearby public school that had a thing for field trips. This specific field trip gone horribly wrong was one of them.
The loss of their mother and father desensitized them to a point where deaths of other people did not shock them as much as it would typically affect other kids their age. Mark was 15 years old. Corey was 16. Although Corey was older, Mark had assumed the role of the "bigger brother" because they weren't the kind of kids who used ages as ranks in maturity. Mark outsized him, weighing 130 pounds and standing at about 5'7. That was all the confidence he needed to assume the slightly more dominant role.
Despite their occasional scuffles, they had been through a lot together and they shared a bro-bond no one could possibly break. So he never even considered abandoning his brother when he found him terrified on the ground in terror with the bag tossed at the feet of four black-robed, brilliant-eyed, maniacally grinning ghouls.