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Category:
Horror
Publisher: Smashwords
ISBN-10: 1310633150
Type: Fiction
Pages: 64
Copyright: Nov 1, 2014
ISBN-13: 9781310633157
Price: FREE! (eBook)
Have you ever heard of "The Mamu"? Dan Clifford hadn't heard of it either. Will he survive? But what is worse – A psychotic shape shifting demon killing the city's homeless, or the fact that no-body notices? Dan notices, and that could be fatal.
This book contains strong language, light gore and adult themes. It is intended for mature readers 18 and over.
It has British/Australian spelling.
“So, have you ever met Daniel Clifford?”
“Dan Clifford… He was that guy that won the lotto wasn’t he? 80 million or something. Lucky guy.” - Jenny Maxwell - Sydney NSW
“Yeah I knew him. He used to work for me. After he won the money he went a bit strange … gave a fucking great big house to this bunch of homeless people – wait what, I cant say fu – oh sorry – Yeah I heard that he bought a house for bunch of homeless people, up north somewhere.” – Paul Mathewson, Studio manager ITS design. Sydney NSW
“That’s the guy that went crazy hey … won a bucket load of money and went crazy. I heard that he killed all those people in his house. But I don’t think that's true, I mean why would you help them if all you wanted to do was hurt them?” – Tara Risling, Wauchope, Northern NSW
“Yeah, I knew him… I knew him well… He was a good guy eh … it’s all mixed up bro … ”
… No more questions please eh. Leave me alone.” – Morgan Hakuai, Sydney, NSW
“So, What really did happen to Dan Clifford? And what drove him to do the things he did?. Stay tuned for our full report tonight at 6pm” – Sally Maxwell, ANNN Australian National News Network
Excerpt
A girl sat slouched against the side of the building, a vacant stare fixed upon the opposite wall as rain played across her face. She didn’t shiver from the bitter wind howling through the gaps between the high-rise buildings. Nor did she flinch as a fly, slow moving and close to a winter’s death, chose her lips as a landing place and sought shelter from the cold inside her still and open mouth. She just stared, her upturned palms resting in the pool of scarlet spreading around her, diluted by the litter-strewn puddles.
A child like figure, small and naked scuttled over her. Its bald head slick with rain and blood. The bony curve of its spine was distinguishable through translucent skin, rounded mounds of a xylophonic rib cage moving and stretching as it arched forward chewing at her neck.
With delicate precision, skinny pale arms and dexterous fingers, pulled the hole in her throat wider, snatching at the raw meat with a tenacious ferocity.
As it fed, its arms and legs grew longer, bones cracking and tendons popping as they stretched. Its pale demeanour slowly flushed with colour. Hair sprouting from protruding follicles formed along its spinal column, covering the creatures’ nakedness; bubbling and morphing into the dirty blue jeans and filth covered jacket. It continued its meal, expanding with each breath, to match the size of its meal.
Its appetite satisfied, the devouring of the girl slowed while a translucent face took the shape. Pale grey eyes became blue. Long white hair that had sprouted from its dome shaped skull now took the form of a pink woollen hat. The blood that smeared across its face now part of the pink and dirt coverings of skin.
It stood, kicking the blanket away. Now just a girl, making her way towards the busy city street at the end of a dirty back alley. It paused, sniffed, and looked back at the rain-washed and bloodied remains.
A man rushed by, clutching his umbrella against the elements. His eyes fixed sharply on the dry patch of pavement as he dashed across the soaked streets.
It smiled and watched, its tongue probed across its teeth. White and sharp, dangerous at first, but blunting as the wet muscle crossed them.
It was just another street kid, just a girl with no hope, standing in the rain wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Her voice, coarse at first, softened as she spoke . “A name … what was my name?”
She reached round as if to scratch her backside. “Monk. My name was Monk.”
Satisfied that everything was as it should be, she wrapped her long tail protruding from under the dirty jacket back around through the loops on her pants to form a belt. Then stepped out, onto the busy streets.
Nobody cared about her. Nobody looked at her. Nobody noticed her, or the chewed and bloody corpse that sat just out of sight behind an old garbage skip.
She smiled. That was the beauty of being one of the invisible people.
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