Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25410869-20140914075109

I will now tell you, and the world, about Metalunker. I gave him, or it, that name. I call it a he because he refers to himself as a male.

He's not a normal person, personality wise, and he definitely doesn't resemble one either.

First off I'll give you some details, I live in a rural area, there's tons of trees around my house, I'm right next to a ranch, 45 minutes from the closest town, and about 2 hours till the nearest city. A cliche for a scary story, I know, but It's true.

If you must know about him, I can describe my observations. His torso is sort of a metal barrel type of thing, You use it to store miscellaneous items before disposing of them. I will avoid referring to its respective name as he finds it offensive. It was one of the old rusty iron ones too, and it was smashed, scraped, gashed, and even pierced with bullet holes.

His arms and legs looked like they belonged to an over-sized puppet, almost like a seven foot tall mahogany mannequin. Their limbs looked like they were connected by crude metal wiring.

He also had four metal poles protruding from his back, they each had a long chain that connected another metal pole, and by the looks of these ones they were hammered to form a point, and sharpened with vicious intent.

His head was a rusted paint can, worn down by weather to the point it had no rim, and it even looked like it was used as somebody's target practice. Though he does not have a face, he yearns for one like ours.

It all started about 4 years ago, though I'm fuzzy on what exact month. I had one of the shortest yet most vivid dreams I can remember, and to be fair, there's no way I would forget it.

I walked along a short pathway that leaves my house from the back yard, it doesn't really go anywhere, just a dead end, a hiking trail I guess, but at the end I sat and waited, perched on a stump like I was expecting a friend to meet me in the woods. I perked my ears because I heard a sound, equivalent to bashing garbage can lids together in the distance, and what I saw was the hunk of metal, I now call Metalunker, dangling from the trees. The long and sharp metal pipes anchored him in the trees. And though it was very peculiar at the sight of him I was excited, strangely similar to the feeling when you get a new game. He threw the spiked pole like a spear, but the chain snagged it going through the air, I would say the chains were 15+ feet, but the additional length of the spear and pole it was attached to gave him more range.

There were no more trees in range, so he descended.

He limped his way to me, chain dragging in the leaves, it was one look at his worn down head, and the dream was gone.

I can remember every mark.

The next part is a bit more vague, though I remember it was late fall, inching its way into winter. Late at night fog surrounded my house, this fog was rather abrupt, condensing in a matter of seconds, though the fog left as quick as it appeared, through the fog I heard the distinguishable clanging from my dream. I asked if my brothers heard it but no dice.

It was weeks later, I had nothing to do and the weather was exceptionally nice so I went outside, and for whatever reason I wondered off onto the exact path in my dream.

I sat down and waited, with the grey sky filter through the leaves above me, even though my posterior was dampened by doing so. I wished that I had something exciting to do, but what was I sitting on? A trash can? what an odd place, and why would it be there?

Of course I stood up, and noticed, it was a dented and scarred metal trash can, It looked familiar, but I couldn't pin how until I decided to stand it up. Wires upturned the dead leaf matter on the ground, and metal poles were pulled from the bushes. His body... but without the head.

In a moments notice I ran for it, and tripped only feet away, An old rusty paint can rolled to the body, to my surprise every bullet mark I remember was there.

His hand reached for it, and with a powerful slam, he reattached it to his neck, which was a sharp pole like the spears he threw in my dream.

It was not expected, but he spoke.

I can't remembered a word that was said that day, only that it was along the lines of "Believe in me" he tilted his head as though he meant to be looking at me, but without eyes it was impossible to tell. Of course I could only look at him, if I would mutter anything it would be Inaudible gibberish for sure.

If he was a Tulpa monster, then belief is what makes him real. The more you think and believe the more power they receive, and a sighting will give them a permanent reservoir of existence, unless you die before anyone else learns of them, or see them. And unless you think it was a figment of imagination to your very core of belief.

Just don't think about it.

And after running from that unforgettable moment that's exactly what I did, but I can't forget it. I have no choice, I have to live with it, He's haunting me and my memories until I get it off of my chest.

I was his only prey for so long... until now. I gave him a name, you can give him a face. 