Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-29791712-20150430232612

Hello readers. I posted a creepypasta about a couple of weeks ago, and made some changes to it since then. Here is the newly revise version. Hope you all enjoy it. Please provide feedback and comments, thank you!

Benjamin Velazquez was sitting outside of his house, on his front steps to be exact, when the woman screamed from the street behind him. It was Christmas Eve, and for a winter’s night the air was freshly warm. It was around the 40 degrees range. The nighttime breeze felt great and relaxing on his lungs, and as Ben inhaled each breath it felt sensational in his chest. Throughout the whole winter vacation the days were filled with freezing temperatures. Mountains of snow piled up in his family’s driveway. It was literally a Christmas miracle that the night was warm enough to just go out with a light sweater.

Ben had on his grey hoodie with a red shirt underneath it, a pair of black sweats, and his Timberland tan boots. His black beanie was sagging on top of his head, hanging lazily by his wavy hair. For some reason, Ben wanted to be outside, and enjoy the air while he waited for Christmas to come. That’s how Hispanics celebrate any Christmas. They wait until midnight on Christmas Eve, and once that clock hits twelve, the kids charge at their presents as if it was food, and they haven’t eaten anything in weeks. Of course Ben wasn’t a child anymore. He was seventeen and almost legally an adult in one month. It was ten-twenty four P.M., and the woman’s cry alarmed him.

An hour before that Ben was with his older brother, Bryan, inside their small house. They were hanging around the living room watching TV while waiting for time to pass by. “This is so freaking boring,” Bryan said. “Crap man, I really want to do something right now. Christmas isn’t how it was before, you know when we were kids.” He had a point there. Bryan was only two years older than Ben, but still they stayed close. When they were kids they would literally stare at the clock, waiting for the time to pass. The anticipation was incredible.

Now for these two young adults, Christmas Eve and Christmas day was just another boring day. Nothing exciting went on anymore. Sure they still receive gifts, and they were not spoiled to a point where they weren’t grateful. But the excitement just died as they grew older. Every year was the same now. Their parents would invite guest over, none of them being the same age as Bryan nor Ben, and they would have a party while the brothers are left to stay home and enjoy their new gift. Sure it was fun, but it was the excitement, dammit, that drove them!

“I feel ya brotha,” Ben said while sipping his Sprite in a can of soda. “Crap ain’t like how it was when we were tiny. Now the only thing we freaking do is just sit around here.” Usually when their parents’ guest arrived, they would drink alcohol until they became too drunk to even speak words. Ben had a distant but reliable memory of when he was a child, and how it always stank of alcohol in his home.

It was a terrible experience for Ben. It became so sickening, wretched, and plain disgusting for him that one day the boy’s stomach couldn’t handle the loathsome scent. Ben was four years old during one late night party his parents hosted. Each breath Ben took he inhaled accumulated alcohol beverages. This led him to feel nauseous, and he eventually puked all over the kitchen floor like some diseased child with an epidemic.

“You still never going to drink?” Bryan asked, gazing at Ben.

“Nah, screw that. Dad messed that up for me,” Ben’s face grew sour green just by thinking of all those times his nose picked up the smell of alcohol. “How about you? You planning on drinking?”

“Nah, got drunk last week, I don’t want to abuse my liver.” Bryan laid back on the couch they were both sitting on, and let out a deep sigh.

“So what the hell should we do,” Ben said after a couple of minutes. Bryan just grunted as a response. He was wearing a blue and white flannel shirt with faded blue jeans on, and a pair of dress shoes. Ben always found his brother’s choice in clothing rather lackluster, or overdoing it. This time it was the latter. “Hello? You heard me, jackass?”

“Yes I did,” Bryan said insolently. “And to answer your question, I have no damn clue what we can do.” Bryan continued to watch TV with an apathetic gaze. There was nothing entertaining on. Ben felt annoyed, and a bit cranky. He was tired of the same crap every year.

“Screw this then,” he said, and got out of the couch. “Imma be outside, tryna get some fresh air.”

“Do you, brotha,” Bryan said, not looking at Ben, just watching the idiot box.

Ben marched out of the house. He first let his parents know where he was heading, which was just outside of their block, and then put on his hoodie. He debated if he should wear something on top of his hoodie, maybe a coat, but felt how warm and fresh it was outside. He decided not to.

A fast but gentle breeze hit Ben once he stepped outside, and the boy took it with gratitude. Wind and breezes like this barley came around a town where Ben lives, which was North Bergen in New Jersey. Usually in the winter the wind would be harsh and piercing cold, feeling as if the breeze would cut you with little invisible knives. But at that moment, the wind was perfect. It was benevolent, it was calm, and it packed a freshness like early autumn.

The boy decided to walk around his block, and see what was going on. He lived down a hill, so Ben walked up until he reached a corner store that laid all the way ahead. There he saw a couple of friends, and as he passed them he said hello. Ben enjoyed a leisurely walk occasionally. It was one of his hobbies. He found it nice to travel, and to really know what your surroundings were. Plus the outside air and the walking was good for his health. He had asthma, so Ben couldn’t really run that well.

As Ben went to the other side of his block, he noticed some noises coming out of a house to his left. There stood a small house similar to Ben’s home. The lights were on, and there were two people arguing. Ben could hear parts of the discussion as he walked around. It was most likely a couple. He listened as both voices bickered and barked at one another. The girl sounded as if crying, or to the breaking point of tearing. Ben just continued to walk by, ignoring the couple. Just my usual neighborhood bull crap.

He made a full circle around his block, and ended up in front of his house again. Nothing much to do, he muttered to himself. He sat on top of his stairs, and just ruminated while gazing at the night stars. The moon above was a spooky grey, and surrounding the moon were dozens of diminutive dots of light, almost like freckles on a child.

And after a while, he heard the scream.

Ben jumped up so fast as if something bit his ass. His eyes jumped wide open, and he circled around to see if anyone else notice the noise. It was a horrible thing to listen to, like a wild animal who was tortured. It sounded very high pitch, the sound you make when you get burned or an unexpected pain comes to you. It sounded near where he circled his block on the other side of the street. Ben lived in 7th street, and where he thought he heard the yell was on 6th street. He pondered if he should warn someone, or tell this to his parents. He checked the time on his watch, ten-forty. Maybe I should tell Bryan, he thought.

Ben entered his house, and hunted for Bryan. He was sitting on a stool inside the kitchen next to a table eating cubical American cheeses, his favorite snack. Ben was across his brother in a heartbeat. “Woah there buddy,” Bryan said, holding his plate of cheese. “You almost dropped my snack. What’s up you look like you saw a fucking ghost.”

“Bryan,” Ben said out of breath. The scream startled him, and took away all his energy and air. Or maybe that was his asthma. “Bryan, you have to come outside now. I heard…something.”

“Ight, what the hell did you hear?” Bryan looked at Ben as if he was on drugs.

“I heard a woman scream.”

“Yeah? What you do, fuck her too hard or sumthing?”

“No, no man this is different.” Ben took Bryan’s arm. “This crap sounded horrific, almost torturous. It- it was a woman’s yell, like she got punched or burned or some crap, I don’t know. All I know is that it sounded horrible, and that we should check it out.”

“Now why the HELL, would I want to waste my time on other people’s bull crap,” Bryan said, sounding annoyed.

“Who knows,” Ben said. “Maybe someone needs help.”

“Or maybe, you’re just that bored, dude.” Bryan popped another square cheese into his mouth. “You need to relax.”

“Okay, maybe I am just bored,” Ben admitted. “But screw it, this is better to do than to just sit in this freaking house and do nothing. Stop eating and let’s check this crap out!”

Bryan thought about it for a moment. Hell, it sure beats just sitting here, doing nothing, he thought. “Fine, let’s go. But we’re going to Dunkin Donuts after this, feeling kinda hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” Ben said and grinned.

“Yeah, well you’re always hungry too so shut up.”

Bryan and Ben stepped out of the house, and stood outside of their home. “Alright man, what exactly did you hear?”

“Like I said, bro, I heard a woman yelling,” Ben said.

“Yeah, but was their anything specific? Anything else that’s worth knowing?”

Ben stood there, thinking about it. He traced back his steps, from when he stepped out of his house, to the moment where he began sitting on his stairs. There wasn’t anything worth hinting to Bryan that was associated with the yell. But he could have sworn there was something else. “Oh yeah!” Ben exclaimed. “There was a couple arguing, as I was walking around the block, near Sixth Street.”

“A couple?” Bryan raised an eyebrow. “Which couple, and whose house?”

“I have no clue,” Ben said. “All I know is that it was one of those houses in that street. I still remember the house. C’mon maybe something bad happened.”

And something bad did indeed happen. Just before Ben and Bryan were about to make their way up the hill, they heard the low sound of sirens approaching them. As the sound came closer, the noise grew dramatically loud. Within seconds five cop cars were speeding up their block. Blue and red lights flashed at them, blinding both boys. The sound of their sirens punched inside their ears. It was one of the most obnoxious things to hear. The siren was so loud it made the brothers’ body vibrate. The cop cars blew heavy wind towards both Ben and Bryan by how fast they were speeding, sending them an icy breeze. They were gone as soon as they came, and made a sharp turn to the right.

“Holy crap,” Bryan spoke. “You saw the speed those fuckers were going in? They almost torn the whole street apart!”

“That’s not the only worse part,” Ben said. “They turned right, towards Sixth Street.”

Bryan gave a dismal look at his little brother. “Crap. You don’t think…..something really bad happened?”

“Only one way to find out,” was all Ben said. They gave each other one last look of confusion and despair, and began sprinting up the block. It was eleven thirteen in the night, and the terror just begun.

They made a right turn once they reached the top of the hill. The streets were parallel to both boys, the cars driving on the road next to them on their left. There was a light rain yesterday, so as the vehicles passed by you were able to hear that whoosh! sound the tires created when running down on water. The edge of Sixth Street was only a couple of feet away, and when they reached it they made another right to descend down the hill.

There, Bryan and Ben saw three cop cars parked next to the exact house where Ben heard and saw the couple arguing. Five police men stood outside the house. They pounded on the door being impatient. Several of the neighbors around left their homes, or peeked out their window to see what all the noise and knocking was about. They must have heard the sirens as the cop cars went down their hill. The luminous blue and red lights of the cars were still shining through the night.

“Looks like they’re trying to get out the couple, Ben,” Bryan said, and shivered a bit. “What should we do now?”

“I don’t know,” Ben said. “Should we go down the hill to check it out?”

More people crowded behind the cop cars and the officers themselves. Accidents always resulted to this during any drama that had to do with the police. Neighbors would stop what they were doing no matter how important it was, and would jump outside to get a taste of all the action going on in their boring and gloomy town.

“Nothing is happening,” Bryan said. The cops were still trying to get anyone out of the house. It appeared as if no one was answering the doorbell, or the booming knocks of the cops. “Let’s get something at Dunkin, and maybe something else will happen.”

“Alright fine,” Ben said reluctantly.

They went to Dunking Donuts which stood across the street from them. It was now ten minutes before midnight, and the brothers knew that their parents will get pissed if they miss the countdown to Christmas. Screw it, they both thought. It’s not like they’re going to do anything special. The inside of Dunkin Donuts had the scent of sugar, coffee and all sorts of sweet things. Ben didn’t want anything, but Bryan ordered himself a small mint hot chocolate. As Bryan was busy ordering, Ben stared outside of the glass mirror towards Sixth Street.

He was wondering what kind of madness erupted in there. He didn’t know anybody in that street. Only just a couple of friends, nothing more, but still. Who can cause such a mess that three cop cars would have to come rushing in? Better yet, who called those cops? Was there more people inside that house other than the couple? Or maybe it was an alarmed neighbor that heard all the calamity, and just dialed the police out of fear and curiosity. Still, it always beg the question of what exactly went on. Usually nobody ever found out what happens in these misfortunes. The family or the people involved in any conflict that involves the cops like to keep every business quiet, for the sake of embarrassment, Ben assumed. But this was one thing Ben wanted, no needed to know. It was more than curiosity. It was close to fate, like something that needed to be found out.

An ambulance van began dashing on the road that stays parallel to all the hills where Ben was watching. It reached Sixth Street, and took a tight turn down that hill. The speed of that van was even greater than the cop cars.

“Holy crap bro did you see that?” Ben asked.

“No, but I heard it,” Bryan said while receiving his hot chocolate and leaving change in the glass jar on the counter.

“C’mon let’s check it out quick,” Ben said, and before waiting for a response from his brother, began running towards Sixth Street again.

He made it just in time on the top of the hill to see a woman being placed and strapped on a stretcher. He only knew it was a woman by the lumps on her chest, too round to be a man. But he could be mistaken, since the funny thing about the person on the stroller was that that person’s face was wrapped with bandages all around her facial features. She appeared like some bloody and vile mummy. You couldn’t even see any sign of her hair or face. Cops were outside the house still, looking puzzled but a bit relief. What the hell just happened?

“Can’t wait for me, you bastard,” Bryan said behind Ben. The boy was just slightly startled by his brother’s appearance. Bryan held his cup of hot chocolate in a tight grip, not letting any of it spill.

“Sorry man,” he said. “I was just so hyped up about it.”

“Yeah, well next time wait for me please. Alright, let’s start to head down.” Both boys walked down into the scene. Sweat began to trickle down their foreheads and stick to their shirts by how much they have been going in circles. They were next to the police cars when immediately a tall police man approached them. “Woah, you can’t be here, guys. We still need to investigate.” The police man had red short hair, like a buzz cut, and had a round, muscular face.

“Well, what exactly happened?” Ben asked. The cop looked around and behind him, and released a silent sigh before crouching down to Ben’s height. The police man was really large, most likely six foot three.

“Listen, I am not really supposed to say anything, but you two look like quiet people so I’ll tell ya,” the police man said. “By the way, I’m officer Wellington. We were pounding on this damn door for what seemed like half an hour before a woman appeared to open the door, but she was covering her face. We asked her politely to remove her hands……and well, what we saw was something that I even do not want to recall. Have you ever seen a rotten peach?”

Both boys nodded with disgust.

“Well,” the officer continued, “imagine that but with a sort of orange mold with blood.” Wellington face glowed green. “I really do not want to talk about it now. But listen, if I were you two, I’ll stay away from here for a couple of days. Investigation is going in on this house, and we’re going to get to the bottom of this crap.” The officer gave them a tiny bow, and began turning. Before he could walk away, he pulled something out of his pocket. “By the way, if you hear about anything specific of what happened here, just give me a call.” He handed Bryan a tiny card with the officer’s name and number. “Where you kids live, anyway?”

“Seven Street,” Bryan said. “We’re close by.” The cop nodded, and joined the other policemen.

“You know what this means right?” Ben asked.

“Um, that we get the hell out of here and enjoy our peace with our family,” Bryan said. “Dude, you heard what he said, her freaking face for god’s sake looked like a rotten peach….with blood. I ain’t screwing around with that crap. C’mon, we’re going home.”

“You can go home if you like,” Ben said, and grinned sinisterly. “But I want to get to the bottom of this.”

“And how exactly do you propose you’re going to do that?” Bryan asked, posing like some demanding mother with his hands against his hips. “Well we can sneak into the back and see what’s inside that house,” Ben said. Both boys stared at each other with amusement and irritation.

“You’re reaaally doing this with or without me, aren’t you?” Bryan asked.

“Hell yeah,” Ben said, and his smile widen.

“Ugh, fine bitch, but you owe me something.”

Ben and Bryan ended up finding themselves on the backyard of the house where the couple was arguing. Once the police cars departed away, and all the neighbors outside returned home, both boys climbed the front gate. They made their way all the way back, first by crossing the dark alley in between that house and the one next to it. The backyard was filled with tiny fingers of leaves stretching out and trying to grasp at their ankle. There was a small hut all the way in the edge of the backyard. There was not much decoration outside.

“Where shall we go now?” Bryan asked?

“There,” Ben pointed at the stairs leading down to a door, a basement door. Above those stairs and doors was the actual house, but something about the basement door fascinated Ben. It was the same sensation that he felt when he just craved to investigate the house. “Is it locked?” Bryan asked unenthusiastically.

“Only one way to find out,” Ben grinned and skipped down the stairs like some childish girl. His cold hands wrapped around the even colder doorknob. Wouldn’t give. Damn thing was locked.

“Crap,” Ben muttered. “We have to get inside from back door.” Bryan nodded, and both boys climbed up a pair of stairs that were place in the middle of the back side of the house. Each step they made the stairs squeaked like dying animals. There was a door right in front of the boys, and fortunately for them, it opened. It led them inside.

Ben and Bryan found themselves facing a long and dark corridor. Everything was pitch black, except for the light the moon provided behind them with the door open. Shadows scratched and snarled at them with tiny claws. The only thing they did see was a wooden door ahead of them to the right of the hallway. The inside of the house smelled like lavender candles, Ben’s mother favorite.

“Alright, let’s try to open the door to the right,” Ben said, and started tippy-toing to the door. He wrapped his hands once again to another icy doorknob, but instead, this once gave in. The door opened in one big BAM! When he swung the door, Ben was hit with a gust of wind, sending his bones to shake from the piercing cold of the breeze. Dust flew everywhere, urging Ben to cough, but the boy didn’t want to make much noise. There were a set of stairs leading down, all wooden and old.

But there was something different about the two areas Ben was stuck between in. The beautiful smelling house he was now in, and the sinister, horrific setting of the basement downstairs. It was as if he opened the doorway to hell, a place no soul dared to enter. He almost could feel the negative energy the place innervated, a hunch similar to the ones he was receiving while looking at the house. Ben wondered if Bryan also had similar prognostications, was that the right word? There weren’t necessarily predictions, but a better word for a hunch.

“Hey,” Bryan hissed. “What’s the hold up?”

“Nothing,” Ben said after a pause. “Come now dude, close the door.” Bryan did so, and joined his brother as they both went down the stairs, each step moaning with a creak. There was no light during the beginning of the stairs, so they had to rely on feeling where they were. However, once they went a couple of stairs down, there was a faint light being thrown off at the bottom of the steps. As they drew in each step, the light became brighter and bigger. It flashed at them like weak street lights, but even though it brought some comfort to Ben and Bryan, there was still that damn hunch of something….demented.

They reached the end of the stairs, and what laid in front of them was one last damn door. Holy crap how many freaking doors does this place have? Ben thought. The rays of light was coming from the top and bottom of the door, where there contained tiny gaps. Ben inhaled one dusty and smelling air with his mouth, and twisted the doorknob to enter the room.

They were welcomed, with pictures. Pictures everywhere. The room was medium-sized, not too big for a basement, but you’d expect one to be a bit larger. There was enough light in the room to blind the brothers momentarily. There were all photos of women, one of every kind. African, Asian, Indian, Hispanic, White, etc. There were probably eight by eight pictures, again not too big nor too small. But they all had one thing in common, the same man, and the same face.

Funny right? Different women, but the same face? Those women were all laying on a table, and their faces looked mutilated, almost beaten to death, but not quite. There weren’t any bruises or punch marks, but boy did they look disgusting! They were all puffy, and for some reason orange, depending on their skin tone. There were these tiny bubbles on their faces, looking a bit like pimples but more like balls containing water and goo. All faces had several lacerations on their lips and forehead, to their noses and cheeks. Speaking of their cheeks, each face appeared as if the women in the photos had two giant jawbreakers in their mouths on each side of their cheeks. There were also wrinkles, burned spots, edgy skin, and this brown stuff on their face. Like a rotten peach. The officer’s voice haunted inside Ben’s ear.

And in the center of this mad room with these sickening and wicked pictures was the same man on every photo. He was slouching on a silver wide table, the same one in every photo. The man had his arms and head down on the table and appeared and sounded as if crying or weeping.

The man in the photo always had the same mask on his face, concealing his true identity. It appeared like those KKK masks those racist wear, but was brown and wrinkling. The man was wearing that same exact mask at that moment while crying. He was very muscular with his corpulent muscles protruding out of the green shirt he was currently wearing. The man had on a pair of dirty and dusted green dress pants, and was bare footed. The man cried and cried, and Ben and Bryan were stunned by the madness and terror they entered. It seemed as if the man didn’t notice Ben and Bryan. He started to bang on the silver desk, and suddenly, with enough strength, threw the large silver desk across the room. He fell with the desk, which now stayed only a couple of feet away from the brothers. The man picked himself up, brushed out his clothes, and peered up at the door across from him.

And noticed Ben and Bryan.

Both boys stood still, like a perfect statue. Ben could see the man’s dark and dreamy eyes placed upon their faces. The man was looking at both of them with a sort of fascination, a thirst to peek at their faces. Under that mask those eyes appeared abysmal, almost like a dark and deserted cave. And even though Ben could and will never see it, he knew there was a grin on that man’s face. Underneath that mask, there was a giant smile, one that was welcoming.

And deadly.

“Why hello there,” the man said under the mask, his voice sounding friendly, but dark. “How may I help you boys?”

Ben and Bryan stood stun, as if their mouths were sewed shut. Their shoes were rooted to the ground. The man only continued to stare at them, rendering more grief and discomfort towards the brothers. Ben found his eyes staring back at all the pictures. The man took notice of this.

“Well,” he said. “I see you keep glancing at those ugly pictures. Please, make yourself at home and look around.”

“I think….” Bryan began, but started to trail out of his words. “I think we should leave.” He spun around to exit through the door they came.

“DO NOT LEAVE ME!” the man in the mask screamed, and stomped his foot on the wooden floor. Bryan jumped as if shocked by lighting, and gingerly spun back to stare at the man. His heart was racing with fear. “Please,” the man coughed. “Forgive me for my inconvenience. I usually do not get all worked up like this. It’s just….well it’s been a stressful day, that’s all! Nothing more to it. Like I said, please, look around.”

Well what other choice did they have? They could try to make a run for it, but climbing back all those dark stairs seemed like a bad idea. That man could just simply grab their feet as they try to escape this grief, and end up in the hands of this maniac. The man’s mask shot at the boys a despair like no other. Ben had heard of the reason why certain masks scare humans so much. The Uncanny Valley, that’s the name. When something or someone looks so close to a human-like face, but not quite exactly. This manifests itself into something out of a sick imagination. His mask resembled that quality. It looked so human, yet there was just a tick of it that wasn’t. And maybe that was why this man was such a horrific person. He appeared and talked and walked and became angry like any other human, yet both Ben and Bryan knew that deep inside him, there was just a small part of him that wasn’t human.

And that can be very deceiving.

The brothers both slowly began walking around the empty basement, and peeked at the pictures. The scent of new polished wood and metal filled their noses. As they looked around, Ben noticed that the man was just standing there, looking at them, looking at Bryan specifically. Why is this man looking at Bryan so much?

“Tell me something,” Ben began. “What….exactly do you do to these people?” Ben found it funny how he was actually trying to begin a conversation with this madman. Why not try to tackle him down? Hell, Bryan was a tough kid, and with sneaky Ben by his side, these two bastards can take on him.

It’s because he’s unhuman, and you could just smell the insanity in this man, he reeks it! Better to just play the friendly neighbor kid for now. For now…..

“Call me a mad genius,” the man said, and chuckled. “But I like to look at myself as a master of art, one that craves for perfection. All these…projects.” The man waved his hands up, admiring his work, but at the same time feeling some disgust with them. “They are all failed projects, and it pisses me OFF! I work at Hoboken Hospital, and I mostly do plastic surgery for people. I loved the job since I first started. I understand people’s thirst to look for the perfect chest, face, body, whatever, the possibilities are endless. I mourn with them when people do not understand that it is our God-given right to be able to change and form our world and ourselves, since God made us the creators of this world. We have the right, dammit, and what I am trying to do is make the perfect image.” The man began laughing, and he had to beat at his own chest with his meaty hands to stop. “Excuse me, just thinking about this always brings a good laugh to myself. Doesn’t this sound funny?”

Neither Ben nor Bryan laughed.

“Well, anyways,” the man continued. “I grabbed a few woman throughout my time, and I’ll tell them that I have the power to make their face perfect! These woman, they were looking for plastic surgery, but they had that deep desperation in their eyes, and that’s when I knew they would be willing to do anything, anything to have the perfect image. So it was easy to convince them to take part in my little….experiment more or less.

“They agreed with happy smiles and joyful eyes, yet they died in this exact room with such ugly FEATURES!” The man began breathing harshly. “It’s not fair, really.” He said this with such a calm tone, as if not a moment ago he was stomping on the floor like some rabid animal. “We are humans, and we deserve to make beauty possible. These woman, ugh they lacked the talent, or, or the spark, yes! That’s it they lacked the damn spark! They never fucking had it, it’s a shame. I almost gave up. I’ll experiment on their faces, place a little liquid there, drill something here, maybe cut open something there.” As he was saying this, the man was hovering his hands, and making pretend he was actually working on a face. But all he was playing with was the air. “But they all failed me, and I just couldn’t look at their faces, it made me want to puke.

“And once they woke up from their drugs that put them to sleep, they would ask me ‘am I perfect, baby? Am I the beauty you want to see in your dreams?’ And I would grow with rage, and slap them across the face, and scream at them ‘You’re an ugly bitch! And not even God can fix that!’”

“And, of course, I would be so displease with my work. And like any artist, once you decided you didn’t like your work, you crumbled up the paper, and throw it in the trash. That’s exactly what I did. I was disgusted by my work, so I had to get rid of it. So, I used my tools, and I would cut open their guts and chest, and I would throw their insides at the floor while crying, ‘why couldn’t you be perfect? WHY!?’ It’s all so very unpleasant. They would scream, and yell to stop, to not kill them. But I simply said, ‘Honey, God saw imperfection in Lucifer, and down to hell he went. And I see the same way in your face.’ And will one final slash to the face, they were gone from my life.

“After all those failed attempts, I wanted to give up. My wife, Debby, she didn’t know about this. How can I explain to her that I was trying to create the perfect image, when any good husband is supposed to look at their woman as the perfect person? But one day, today actually….I got desperate.” The man’s eyes grew cold. “I told her what I have been doing, and that already sparked the argument. She hated me at that moment, and wanted me gone, hell she wanted me dead probably! But I told her that she could be the perfect image. Think about it. A perfectionist like me would marry a gal that probably is perfect, right? WRONG! My wife, like all those other bitches, came out ugly, in fact she came out worse than ugly. Tremendous, a pile of shit on this disgusting world!

“I heard the police arrive, and oh God I didn’t know what to do. Debby was lying on the table, and she was just crying. ‘Why, why Bill did you have to do this.’ And I began crying with her I did not want to kill her. I just cried with her, cried as if it was her fault as well. It was her fault, if you really think about it. Why couldn’t she be the perfect woman? Why couldn’t she handle it, handle the transition from human, to perfect. She cried, and I simply whispered in her ear, ‘I love you, but you are ugly and that makes me want to hit you.’ And so I did, gave her one clean smack, and I told her to go outside, let the police and ambulance take you, and to never come back to me again. I hope she doesn’t, ugly bitch.”

It was official then, Ben thought. This man was insane, more than insane, he’s unstable and they should make a run for it now. Ben looked at Bryan, and he looked right back. Both boys nodded, and began walking backwards towards the door they entered. It was that brotherly intuition you have if you ever had a brother. One look, and you just know what to do together. Maybe some other pair of brothers would decide to jump on Bill, but Bryan and Ben knew that was a horrible idea. Better to just escape here and now, call the cops, and let the authorities fix this madness.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Bill asked as the brothers were half way to the door. “I guess you don’t see it, don’t cha?”

“See what?” it was Ben who spoke up, but just speaking became a chore in this situation.

“You- You don’t see who you truly are.” Bill pointed at Bryan. “How can I have been so foolish? Trying to make a woman perfect? NO, I had it all wrong. Woman are beautiful, yes, but they are not men. Men are the true perfection in this world. After all, God created Adam first, right? His first life form in this world, and he made man first, man dammit! That was his first perfect sighting, and he created Adam. And you, young man.” Bill began approaching Bryan, his steps making the floor creak. “You have the perfection I am looking for! I saw it when you entered, but it occurred to me now to finally experiment on a man!”

Bryan was always good-looking, with his well-trimmed beard and his perfect white teeth, but Bill made Bryan appear as some God sent from the heavens themselves. Ben saw how Bryan’s face grew green, his fear finally rising to the point where his stomached turned and it showed on his face.

“Do not be scared, boy,” Bill said. “You will enjoy it, trust me.” Ben felt it again, the smile. He knew there was a smile under that mask. “Come here, boy. Come here.”

That was when Bryan dashed out of the room.

Thank god for that intuition, because Ben ran away the exact second Bryan did. Their feet stomped at the floor, creating a thunder-like sound. Ben was already beginning to wheeze, damn asthma. Still, he could have a fucking heart attack now and that still will not stop him from escaping here and going home. They made it to the bottom of the steps in just three seconds, and began climbing up those stairs immediately, no doubt in their mind.

They heard the man giggle and start running towards them, his huge feat making the room shake. “You really think you can run?” After saying this, he burst into a sick laughter.

“Keep running up no matter what,” Bryan said through a tired breath. Ben would respond, but his asthma was already making it hard enough to even run, let alone talk. The steps felt like they ascended forever, never stopping, until finally Bryan made it past the last one, and opened the door wide.

That was when Bill’s arm closed around Ben and dragged him down.

A tiny yelp escaped from the boy, but loud enough to alarm Bryan. He turned around instantly, and saw how Bill’s mask faded as he started to go back downstairs with Ben. “Bro!” Bryan exclaimed, and reluctantly began going down those same steps again. However, this was a trap. Bill was hiding inside the darkness, and as Bryan began going down the beginning steps, his heart bouncing, and his mind on a million other things, Bill stretched out his large foot, tripped Bryan, and the boy tumbled down those thousands of steps, hitting himself all the way until he made it to the bottom again. Surprisingly he didn’t crack his neck.

Ben heard as his brother fell down the stairs. His hear skipped a beat, and he presume his brother dead. Bill had Ben in a lock around his waist, and another hand covering his mouth to keep any screaming or shouting to escape the boy’s trembling lips. Bill made sure to keep his palm on top of Ben’s mouth so he couldn’t bite his fingers, smart man. With the boy lock on his arms, Bill went down the stairs.

Eventually, he was able to drug Ben into a deep sleep, one where we would wake up two days later. By that time, Bryan would be all different, and Bill would finally be satisfy. Before that, however, as Ben was sleeping all drugged up in the basement floor, Bill had Bryan on his silver table, a light on top of his face. Bryan was on heavy drugs as well, enough to just keep him slightly awake. He kept his shining eyes on Bill as he prepared procedures for the experiment, to become perfect. Bill kept staring at Bryan with such pleasure and optimism.

Before the job was about to begin, Bill whispered into Ben’s ear, “Do not worry, child. I am God, and I can make the perfect child.”

The bed was comfortable, Bryan had to give it that. But despite how relaxing he was laying on top of the king sized mattress, his face was in agonizing torture. He couldn’t see anything, since his entire head and face was covered and wrapped around a white bandage. If he were to see anything, it wasn’t much.

He was inside the guest room in Bill’s house. The bed which Bryan was laying on was in the center of the room. To Bryan’s left would be the closet where not much was kept inside, probably some old clothes, shoes, and useless mail Bill just threw in there for the hell of it. To the right of Bryan he would see a night stand with a little lamp on top of it. The entire room was insipid.

Bryan heard the door creek open, and footsteps approaching him. He felt a light double tap on his shoulder, and immediately wince at the touch. “Calm down, boy,” he heard a voice say, Bill’s voice. “It’s a special day today. We’re going to take away those bandages.”

“I want to see my family,” Bryan said, making the same request he has been saying this past week. Followed by another, “I want to see my brother!” What Bryan didn’t know was that Ben was killed the same night they decided to sneak inside the house. Curiosity certainly does kill the cat. More like strangle the cat to death and then proceeding to drown the furry bastard. Ben was buried in Bill’s backyard, like any pet would be.

“Oh Bryan,” Bill said as he began cutting and loosening the bandages. “Don’t you know you’ll never see them again? They’re gone from your life, and you’re mine now.” Bryan began to weep, but even his own lugubrious tears stung his face as each droplet fell on his cheeks.

Finally, the bandages were removed, and light smacked Bryan’s eyes that second. He was blinded momentarily, his eyes taking some time to adjust to the brightness. After a couple of seconds he was able to see Bill’s mask he wore 24/7. His eyes enlightened once they were sealed on Bryan’s face, and soon Bill began to cry himself. “Oh. Oh you are absolutely perfect! Masterpiece I tell you, a true art in this world!”

Bryan’s face was covered with those damn bandages for over two days, since the surgery began, and he was in some sick way curious to see what he looked like. “Hand me a mirror.”

“With pleasure!” Bill ran out the room, skipping like some school girl who just got asked out by some hot guy and is anticipating to tell her girlfriends. Pure happiness. Bill came back a hand-held mirrors. “Take a look for yourself, Bryan boy. You look like God himself.”

Bryan snatched the mirror from Bill, his heart racing, his mind tingling, and again that wicked fascination and curiosity of what he appeared as. Gingerly, he rose the mirror to his face until eventually his eyes locked on the mirror, and he saw what he looked like.

Bryan screamed, and dropped the mirror, letting the glass shatter on the floor. 