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Grendelle - Horror (standard:horror, 2117 words)
Author: hvysmkerAdded: Oct 26 2004Views/Reads: 2489/1634Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A Sci Fi Horror story with some twists.
 



“Pull me out from inside or maybe inside to where I ain't and you is,
you think maybe, Honey?” Michael was confused.  He and his accomplice 
Janet wouldn't be in that situation if they weren't there.  They were 
standing in, or out, inside or/and outside a Gray Hole. 

A Gray Hole was a hole, or bump, or some damn thing in or out of normal
space.  Or, maybe the Gray Hole was normal space and our Universe in or 
outside of it?  It was all a matter of perspective, or lack of 
perspective, Right? 

Janet managed to, with effort, touch hands with her companion.  The
touch established a connection of sorts, binding them into the same 
physical plane.  Things, the only way to describe them with their 
unearthly colors and shapes,  whirled around in further confusion, 
coalescing into a semblance of reality.  The two, human and metahuman, 
found themselves on a grass filled plain. 

It was sunny, with strange shadows formed by two yellow suns casting
weird shadows across the windblown purple grass, interspersed by 
strange looking treelike shapes.  In the distance a dozen spires 
reached for the stars, huge edifices looking like manmade skyscrapers. 

“Damn, Janet.  Your powers never cease to amaze me.  I thought sure the
Police had us back on Megadore IV.”  He took off his protective vest, 
seeing it was still smoking but had managed to stop the Police stun 
rays.  Michael hurriedly threw the ruined clothing to the ground where 
it abruptly burst into flames.  “Jeeze, that was close.  One more hit 
and I would have fried.” 

Janet stood unconcerned.  Except for a command, or question, the
metahuman paid little attention to her master.  The metahuman race, if 
you could call it that, lived only to serve.  Almost invulnerable and 
emotionless, they had survived for millions of years, simply because 
they were so useful and compliant in the service of others. 

Like a good tool, nobody would think of killing them.  They reproduced
like other animals and had no problems doing so.  The master races took 
every opportunity to help them breed in an effort to gain more value 
for themselves, the masters. 

A small part of the Galactic Population, metahumans were used, not
understood.  Rare enough to be sought after, maybe only several in a 
star system, and numerous enough to be a known race, few knew anything 
else about them.  Not where they came from, nor their purpose in the 
Scheme of the Cosmos, if any.  Michael had acquired his, that answered 
to the name of Janet, by theft.  It made no difference to Janet whom 
she served, only that she did have a master.  Without a master they 
would die in a few hundred years. 

“Let's us go check those things out, Honey.”  Michael took time to kick
soil over his smoldering jacket.  The ground was loose, soft, and 
spongy, something like hard moss.  He had been born in the backwoods of 
Northern Altair VI and didn't like to leave a campfire burning.  
Stomping on the jacket until it stopped smoking, he started walking 
over the soft purple surface, toward the towers.  Janet followed 
quietly. 

*** 

Grendelle put down her book, a romance of the common type, the common
type on Desade II that is.  A fine example of a humanoid woman, long 
golden tresses, a perfect figure with a fine featured face, she strode 
to the nearest window.  She was only halfway up in her last torture  
laboratory.  Two and a half more to fill, yet nothing to fill them 
with. 

The lovely Grendelle, although not satisfied in the least, was
complacent.  Her emotions, though strong, didn't include a sense of 
failure.  After all, she was Grendelle, and by definition could not 
fail. 

It had taken an eternity to fill most of the buildings, and she was
content to sit and read a book, sharpen her torture instruments, and 
wait for another eternity if need be, to finish her task.  Her mission 
to torture and kill every person on the planet. 


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