Peggys Journal - Entry 2: James Allen Part One

Horror story written by boneyg on Friday 29, April 2011

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The second entry was a bit long so I decided to break it into two parts, the second part will be posted as soon as it is finished.

Overall Rating: 90.766666666667%

This writing has been rated by 6 members, resulting in a rating of 90.766666666667% overall. Below is a breakdown of these results:

Concept/Plot:92.333333333333%
Imagery:91.333333333333%
Spelling & Grammar:92.333333333333%
Flow/Rhythm:89.166666666667%
Vocabulary:88.666666666667%
September 21, 2010 5:17am My name is James Allen; and I just killed Peggy Swanson. Well, I killed what I can only assume was at one time young Peggy, surly this...thing that lays before me ceased being a fifteen year old girl days ago. Like I said before, my name is James Allen, and I fear there is no way around it; I'm going to have to kill my wife. She was bitten by young Peggy, but I don't think that I can do it, I just...I can't; not again. About a week ago my nine year old daughter Brittany came home sick from school. She said that a boy in her class bit her on the leg during recess, while she was playing on the monkey bars. "The monster bit me daddy, the monster made me sick." The monster; that is what she called him, but I didn't listen. I assured her that her fever had nothing to do with being bitten. I told her that boys were stupid, and they sometimes did very cruel things, but trust me they don't have rabies. Of course I was right he didn't have rabies. He had something far worse. The next day, her fever still hadn't broken and she was producing an alarming amount of phlegm. I gave her some children's medicine, and went to work, thinking if she had not improved when I came home, I would take her to the family physician. Upon arriving home, I saw that her condition had worsened; drastically. My wife Janet knelt beside her bed, with Brittany's hand held in hers as she wept. I dropped to my knees, as I looked down on my baby girl. Though I had been gone only ten hours, I could hardly recognize the little girl that just over twenty-four hours ago had happily kissed me on the cheek, before boarding the school bus. Brittany's normally tan complexion had turned very pale, her eyes were glossed over, and her body was being overtaken by lacerations. As I looked upon my baby, her mouth began to move. I leant closer, placing my ear inches from her mouth to hear what she was saying, and my heart broke. "I'm the monster now daddy." She whispered, as tears began to run down her face as well as mine. "No baby, don't say that. Daddy's here, I'm gonna make it all better. I promise." A slight smile broke across her face as she closed her eyes to sleep. Those were the last words I ever spoke to her; and they were a lie. I turned to my wife and asked why she wasn't in the hospital. She explained to me that she called the family doctor, but he was booked, so she took Brittany to the emergency room, but they were also full and could not see her. Evidently, there was a bug going around and it seemed that everyone had it. After sitting in the crowded waiting room for a few hours, Brittany's health continued to decline, so Janet decided to return home and wait for me, hoping I'd know what to do. I didn't. I asked Janet why she didn't call, she said she tried but all the lines were down. Initially that struck me as odd, but I quickly dismissed it. I had bigger fish to fry at the moment; I could worry about that later. For two days, we watched Brittany sleep, while continually checking our five year old son Lucas for symptoms. Luckily he was showing no signs of illness. On the third day Brittany finally woke-up, but she wasn't Brittany anymore. She was something else, something...not human. No sooner had her eyes opened, than she leapt from the bed and began clawing at my face. I forced her back to the bed and held her there as she thrashed violently trying to break free. My little girl had become the monster. I knew I could not hold her in place forever. I would have to tie her down, so with a heavy heart, and Janet's help, that's exactly what I did. Janet and I watched over her for hours, while she struggled with all her worth to break free of her binds. I soon realized that I would have to relieve my baby girl of this pain she was in, and I could tell by the look in my wife's eyes she knew it too. As I stood at the bedroom window and watched the sun lower beneath the horizon, People began to fill the street in front of my house. In the faint light of day that remained I could see that these weren't people, rather they were just like Brittany. With in minutes, there were at least a dozen of them, and more were coming in the distance. They were walking...no that's not right. They were shuffling up to houses and beating on doors, while moaning very loudly. There were at least three or more at each house, pounding on their doors, as well as windows. I heard the sound of glass breaking, and focused my attention to where it originated. One of the...monsters for lack of a better word, (though I suppose most would call them zombies, as cheesy as that sounds,) had broken Brett Miller's big bay window across the street. Like myself, Brett has a wife and two young children, and at this time of evening I'm sure they were sitting down for dinner. As I continued to survey the situation, I was shocked to see Brett step out to his porch with a baseball bat, and start swinging. He managed to make contact with the first ones head, sending it reeling over the banister to the ground below. Two more came, and Brett continued to swing. The commotion, attracted the attention of the zombie-things that were surrounding the neighboring houses, and they were soon at the foot of Brett's porch. It wasn't long before Brett was overtaken by the horde, and literally torn to pieces. Unable to control myself I screamed out "no!" And watched as one of the things stopped on his way to Brett's, and slowly turned his head to look at me, before heading towards my front door. "Janet! We have to go." I shouted in a panic. "What?" She asked. "Get Lucas, and wait for me in the garage!" I screamed as I left Brittany's room and headed for my own. I went straight to the nightstand beside my bed and retrieved my pistol, when I turned back to the door, Janet stood there holding Lucas. "What are you doing?" She asked in a panic, as I hurried past her and headed back into Brittany's room. "No, James you can't!" She cried out. "Go, now!" I ordered as I slammed Brittany's door in her face. With tears streaming down my face, I sat on the side of my little girl's bed, and began to gently stroke the top of her head. God must have been in the room with us that day, because the moment my hand touched her, Brittany stopped struggling. I pressed my forehead to hers and whispered. "Please forgive me, but I will not let them have you. Your mother and I love you very much, we will see you again one day, but until then please watch over us. My little angel," With that said, I pressed the pistol to her forehead, turned my face away from her and said, "daddy loves you little lady...goodnight." I then closed my eyes tightly and pulled the trigger.
   

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Comments

    Wow, this one is very different then the other. More powerful, hits a little closer to home.

    Good work, it was a good, teary read. Keep it up!
    Excellently done BG.

    I think, the part I sent you, would come more towards the end of the journal. But It's nowhere nearly as good as this and the first part.

    Hope you find a use for it - good stuff!
    Very nice. You capture a dark feeling very well.
    This is fantastic. I usually don't read alot of the stories on here since poety is my bag - but I actaully got wrapped up in this. Adding the poignant piece about the father with his daughter was key in this reading so well. Can't wait for the next piece!
    A mixed bag of emotions there, Mr G.

    Superb; all the 'nt's' brilliant, poignant, excellent.....

    This was so compelling.

    A tired genre just got invigorated.

    Excellent stuff!
    Another good piece BG.
    Okay, this chapter may currently be your best (if that's at all possible) I feel all I do is gush over your work, but what else is there to do when everything you write is unique from the next, wonderfully imaginative and delivered expertly.

    You have a real gift, Garret and I feel very lucky to be able to read your work.