Motherless Horror
- 1 year ago
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Henry Versus The Horror free porn video
++This is a short story written for a variety of reasons. It’s kind of a kid’s story, I know, but I think that some here may like it despite being slightly saccharine. We all have to face our fears eventually as we grow up. We all have our own personal fears, and we all face them in our own ways. Either way, this is just a fun little adventure story that was written a year or so ago that I decided to go ahead and share. I hope that some of you get a kick out of it. No laundry was harmed in the making of this story++
*****
Henry shuffled his asparagus around on the plate, not really eating any of it. He kept glancing to the window, looking at the fading light. His brother Roger was getting chided every now and again for looking to the TV that still muttered in the living room, but the stupid football game held zero interest for Henry. No, Henry was obsessed with the sunset.
‘Roger, the game will still be there when you’re done eating, and they’ll still be keeping track of the score, now sit straight in your chair and eat. Henry, did you have any more homework you had to do tonight?’ His mom said, her voice switching from hard and commanding to soft and motherly without even a ripple.
‘No, mom. I got it all done earlier.’ Henry said absently. He wasn’t about to leave any homework to be done after dinner. Not after the sun was down. He had other things to worry about after the sun went down, things concerning life and death.
‘Good. Now eat your vegetables, Mister. Don’t think I’m fooled by you playing pool with them.’ Mom said, smiling a little. She was happy Henry was staying on top of his schoolwork. She really didn’t need the headache of nagging another boy through his studies constantly. ‘What about you, Rog? Roger? Roger! Any homework you need to do before tomorrow?’ She said, trying to get Roger to turn away from the living room. She wished that his dad would keep the TV off during dinner, but he worked long, tedious hours and was only home a few minutes before dinner. So he sat in front of the TV to eat and unwind. She didn’t like it much, but she understood it. He was under a lot of stress at work, and a little decompression time when he got home helped.
‘Huh? Uh, I think I got it all, yeah.’ Roger said, looking down at his plate and scooping up a fork of veggies to fill his mouth.
‘Sure you did. I’ll be up to check on you five minutes after dinner, and you had better be busting your buns on homework, or I’ll bust your buns for you.’ Mom said with her Death Star laser gaze. Roger nodded, looking a little sheepish, but Henry knew she would come upstairs and find him reading comics or playing Nintendo. Henry sighed silently, forcing a mouthful of asparagus down, and got through the rest of his meal as quickly as he could. He was running out of light.
Upstairs, Henry walked into his room. His stuff was still all over the place, but it was mostly in the general area of where it was supposed to be. His older sister Maggie had moved out to go to college last month and Henry had gotten her room as soon as the last of her stuff was schlepped down to her. She was going to college a few towns over, not far, and was living in the dorms. The stuff she didn’t take with her was stored up in the attic. Now Henry’s stuff was moved in to her old room, and he had learned the horrible secret.
Henry went about the room as soon as he got there after being excused from the table, making his preparations. For three nights, he had been facing the Horror, and his tactics were evolving as quickly as he could learn what he needed to do to survive. He turned on the ceiling light and fan, then the lamp by his bed, then the lamp on his desk. All Big Lights on, check. He grabbed the two flashlights he owned. The bigger one was in his closet, on the shelf. He grabbed it and swept the closet door closed again in a hurry. It was a long, heavy, metal cylinder with a bright spotlight-like beam, with a metallic blue finish that was chipped and scratched from use. Heavy with the six huge D cell batteries it held within. His dad had given it to him for Christmas last year for when they went camping. He liked having his own grown-up flashlight, a big tough Maglite. He checked the beam on it, bright as balls and steady. Big Flash, check. He grabbed the little baby flashlight the Maglite had replaced from his desk drawer. It was a small thing that used a single C battery, made of cheap plastic, bright red body and bright yellow hood around the lens. The button was a sliding switch of bright blue plastic with a crack in the middle. He was worried that the button would break when he needed it most, but he had the Mag, so this piece of junk was just a backup. He checked the beam, finding it weak and pathetic compared to the Maglite. It was a dim beam, but it was steady and the normal brightness for the little flashlight. Baby Flash, check. The flashlights went under his pillow, stored where they could be quickly pulled out and where his mom wouldn’t see them when she came to say goodnight.
He grabbed his flip-flops next, the old ones with the band that was coming loose on the left foot, and jammed one under each door of the closet. It had two doors, each one opening out into the room to show everything that was in there. Right now, everything that was in there was thrown in as a heap.
He wedged the flip-flops under the doors as tightly as he could, using the sandals as doorstops. He didn’t think they would do much, but they were better than nothing. He had tried to tie the closet shut last night, but mom had seen the twine on the small knobs and took it off, telling him not to do it again, despite his insistence that it was a necessity. Closet Door Blockade, check.
Next he opened the footlocker at the foot of his bed. He pulled out three items from it. They were his weapon, his shield, and his hero. Captain Rogor was the star of his favorite comic book ever, Star Barbarian! The star barbarian in question was Captain Rogor himself, a heroic and selfless renegade who roamed the galaxy righting wrongs, helping the helpless, fighting oppression, and generally being just as damned heroic as a guy could get. He was a man who hated guns, as his family was killed by gun smugglers as a child when they accidentally interrupted a shipment of weaponry to a neighboring plant by crashing their ship into the smugglers’ ship due to an autopilot malfunction. Captain Rogor had been the only survivor. Upon escaping back to his home world, he saw that the weapons in question were being used by a warlord to enslave his world. Thus began the lifelong fight against evil in all its incarnations by the melee-centric champion.
Captain Rogor, in the absence of lasers and blasters and rays and whatnot, made special weapons to aid him in his quest for justice and goodness. His Ion Shield, which he called The Endurance Of Equity, was a kind of knuckle duster with a little lens array on it that projected a disc of ionic energy that could stop just about anything. When not using the projected shield, he used the projector handle itself like brass knuckles to pelt his foes into submission. His shield was shown in the comics as a transparent blue haze that was about the size of a trash can lid. While Henry liked Captain America’s shield, he thought that Captain Rogor’s was far superior in its versatility and durability. Henry had one of the toy versions, a big, clear, blue, plastic disc almost an inch thick with a small handle made to slip only your fingers through, shaped just like the handle of the one in the comics. It was surprisingly sturdy for a toy, made with the thought in mind that kids would clearly be belting the hell out of each other and using the shield to block blows from other toys. Henry tossed the shield onto his bed and grabbed his weapon.
The Captain used a bludgeon for a weapon, preferring to keep his enemies alive to face justice where he could. The weapon he used for this was The Battle Gavel. It was a war hammer with
a metal shaft and head, the handle curved slightly forward at the grip. The handle had a metal shroud that covered the fingers, letting the Captain punch with a metal fist instead of swinging the hammer, if he wanted to. There were small buttons and controls just above the handle, where he could adjust the settings with his thumb, which changed how the hammer behaved. The head was a sleek, long rectangle with a rounded striking face that had four short, blunt, raised pyramids on it. The back side of the head had small cone under a spike that was the minijet that let him swing the hammer aided by a pulse engine for extreme power. The controls let him turn the engine on or off, and adjust how strong the minijet pushed. They also allowed him to coat the striking face in plasma, electricity, ice, or anti-matter particles, making the hammer a more versatile tool, like his shield. He had a cornucopia of other gadgets and tools, but mostly he used his hammer, shield, and a rocket belt.
Henry’s Battle Gavel was made of plastic, and obviously did not have the functioning minijet or functioning elemental controls, but it was a heavy plastic hammer with a plastic shroud covered handle all the same, and was better than fighting with his bare hands. He tossed the hammer onto the bed next to the shield and grabbed his hero.
He had a bunch of Captain Rogor action figures. He had the Captain, of course, along with his five man crew of misfit mercenaries. He also had a few of the bad guys that the Captain fought regularly, like Warlord Zero. Warlord Zero was the one who had been trying to take over the Captain’s planet when he first started his life of derring-do, and was his most hated and nearly most powerful enemy. Aside from the regular eight inch action figures, Henry had one of the special edition foot tall ones of the Captain, which was his favorite of his collection. It was made far better than the cheap regular ones, with a lot more detail and arms and legs that actually moved at the elbows and knees and everything.
Henry took the large action figure out and closed the footlocker. He stood the Captain up on the lid, facing the closet, and put the Captain’s hammer and shield in his hands, making him ready for battle. Henry thought that having Captain Rogor standing watch on his footlocker might bring him some luck, and he could use all the luck he could get. He was just a nine year old kid trying to face down a demon who lived in his new room, not a barbarian of the stars, and he needed every bit of advantage he could get his hands on, real or imaginary.
Henry put the hammer and shield on the side of his bed, leaning up against the mattress so he could grab them quickly when the lights went out. He looked around the room, trying to think of what else he could do to prepare. His eyes swept about until they hit the closet doors, where they stopped. He thought about the Horror inside. How could his sister live in this room with that thing coming out every night? How could she leave and let him move in here without warning him? They weren’t best friends or anything, but they got along well. He didn’t think she wanted him dead, but not warning him about the Horror was just about a surefire way to get him killed. He had only survived the last three nights by dumb luck and quick reflexes.
His parents insisted that the Horror wasn’t real, that it was just a nightmare. They didn’t seem to want to listen to him when he said that he was awake when it came out. They didn’t seem to care. When he cried out for them, they came in and turned the light on, tried to tell him everything was fine, then left, just leaving his door open and his lamp on.
The Horror couldn’t stand light, but it wasn’t completely powerless against it. It could stand a little light, as Henry had already found out, but it didn’t like it. It was cunning as well. It would attack, but when they heard the sound of his mom or dad coming down the hall, it would laugh a little and tell Henry that it would come back for him later, then it would go back to hiding. It would hide, leaving Henry crying and shaking and pointing at a closet that showed nothing but a pile of clothes, toys, and other things that were not a shambling terror of night and evil.
Well, tonight Henry aimed on fixing that. He was tired from three nights of almost no sleep. He was angry at his parents for ignoring his pleas for help. He was scared by the Horror in his new room. He was fed up with being hunted by a demon in his own room. Tonight, he would face his tormentor. Tonight, he would take up his hammer and his shield. He would face the monster the way his hero would: face to face, afraid or not, even if he was outmatched, because it was the right thing to do. Henry was tired of being the helpless one. Tired of being the one that was chased. Tonight he would show the Horror that just as there are monsters in the world, there are also barbarians ready to meet them with a hammer in hand.
When it was time for bed, Henry was ready. He had brushed, cleaned up, gotten changed, everything was done. Now it was only waiting until the lights went out. He had expected to be terrified, but he found a strange calm in himself. He was scared, nervous, and anxious, but he also felt a soothing calm running through him. He knew that tonight was the end. Either he would kill the Horror, or he would die and be eaten. There were no other ways this could end, and no putting it off any longer. Knowing that he had no more chances to change his course, he simply went ahead, ready for what may come.
His mom came in right on time. Henry was sitting cross legged on his bed, just watching his closet. His mom went and turned off his desk lamp and pulled his blinds down. Henry didn’t even look at her, just watched the closet for any sign of movement. It was still so far, but that was about what he expected. Mom said something about cleaning up, and Henry said a quiet okay, not really listening to her. He slid under his blankets when mom came over to the side of the bed, and he could feel the reassuring lumps of his flashlights under his pillow.
‘Okay, no nightmares tonight, right? There’s nothing in your closet, or under your bed, or anywhere else. Just some bad dreams. So let’s try to get through the night without any screaming or hollering, alright?’ She said quietly as she pulled the blanket up higher and ruffled his hair.
‘Okay. No nightmares tonight.’ Henry said, thinking that his nightmare was just about over, one way or the other.
‘Good. See you in the morning, then. Goodnight.’ Mom said, kissing his forehead.
‘Goodnight, mom. Love you.’ Henry said.
‘Love you, too.’ Mom said from the door as she turned off the light.
She shut the door behind her quietly. As soon as the door latch clicked, Henry threw the blankets aside and swept his flashlights out, turning them on and leaning them against the foot board of his bed, pointing up towards the ceiling above the closet door. The two beams shot directly in front of the doors, giving the Horror some light to contend with as soon as he decided to come out. Next, Henry grabbed his hammer and shield. He had just gotten his shield onto his hand when he heard the closet door move. He looked over and saw the door shake a little, trying to open against his flip-flop. Henry smiled and grabbed his hammer.
He was standing on the bed, hunched over, looking just over the top of the shield at the closet when the other door started to shake. It moved open an inch or so, the flip-flop sliding on the carpet. Henry took slow, deep breaths, trying to keep himself calm and ready. His hand tightened and relaxed on the handle of his Battle Gavel, adjusting his grip. In the small gap of the closet doors, Henry saw the first of the Horror.
Fingers made of sharpened pencils stuck through, connected to a hand made of bunched clothes. The hand pushed on the door, widening the gap. Henry could hear it, the low chuckle of the beast. Like bubbles coming up throug
h thick mud.
‘Cute. Very cute, Food. You won’t stop me that easy, I’m afraid.’ It rumbled from inside the closet. It’s voice was low and gurgling, like It’s laugh. Henry hated that It called him ‘Food’ and that It laughed at him.
The closet doors pushed open more, and Henry saw more of the Horror. It was a tangled mass of the stuff in his closet. A living mess of clothes and toys and hangers and junk. The doors pushed wide after a final shove, and it was exposed completely. It’s face was wide, mostly mouth. Teeth made of the ends of wire clothes hangers, narrow metal hooks that pointed into It’s gaping maw, a jaw shaped from his old blanket, eyes that were bunches of marbles clumped together to make insect-like compound eyes, long, lanky arms made of clothes with too many joints, the spikes along It’s spine made from the pegs of his old tent, It was a horror indeed.
‘Your pathetic flashlights won’t cage me. And what do you plan on doing with those toys, Food? Do you think you’re the first meal to fight back? This should be fun.’ The thing gurgled obscenely, It’s insane mouth widening in a grin. It squatted low, It’s malleable form letting It reshape itself mostly however It wanted to, and slid to the side of the flashlight beams. Henry turned as It did, keeping his shield between him and the beast.
‘I’m done running. I’m done calling for mom. It’s you or me. One of us dies tonight.’ Henry said. He was surprised by the strength in his voice, but he still felt like he was almost hopeless against this demon. He had no other choice, though, so he would make his stand as best he could.
‘Then Food you shall be.’ The Horror laughed quietly, creeping closer towards the side of the bed. Henry decided that he should take the offensive and hopefully surprise the horror. It was what Captain Rogor would do, after all. He took a step forward and used the spring of the mattress to leap high. He came down right above the beast, his shield before him and his hammer swinging down towards the beast’s eye.
His blow landed, the clack of plastic on glass a sharp sound in the otherwise quiet room, and a few of the marbles popped free of their socket, bouncing across the carpet. Henry’s shield came down across the Horror’s mouth, keeping It from biting onto him as he hit the demon, and letting him push away from the beast as soon as he struck. Henry stood back, now next to the footlocker, in the beams of the flashlight. The beast turned It’s head to face him slowly, It’s grin now gone.
‘Oh, now that was a mistake, Food. One you shall pay for with pain.’ It belched quietly. Henry couldn’t tell if he had actually hurt the beast, or only made It mad, but he was elated that he had done some damage to It. If he could knock some parts off of It, then he thought he could knock all the parts off of It, destroying It. He could kill It. He hoped.
There was a shimmer in the air, and a flash of dim blue light around the room that made both the Horror and Henry look around, confused. The beast looked angry, and Henry was awestruck. Standing on the other side of the bed from the beast was Captain Rogor, his shield humming as it sparked and glowed, his hammer buzzing as electricity shimmered across the striking face. He turned to Henry, smiling a little.
‘I’ve sealed the room. No sound, no light, no matter shall escape. He can’t get away from us. Best turn on your Gavel and shield, friend.’ He said, his voice rough and low. Henry looked down to his hands, and was struck dumb with wonder. His hammer was no longer plastic but gleaming metal, lightweight but hard as steel. He looked to his shield and saw that he only held the projector. With a feeling of reverence he thumbed the small button on the side of it and his own shield crackled into existence. The only weight to the shield was the almost nonexistent weight of the metal handle, an alien alloy the same as the Battle Gavel. The field, being only energy, weighed nothing to him. Henry looked again at his Battle Gavel, finding it to be metal and real as well. He knew the controls well from reading the comics of Captain Rogor’s adventures, knew what every switch and dial did, and thumbed on the electric switch. The hammer immediately began sparking small arcs of electricity like miniature lightning bolts between the raised points on the striking face. Henry smiled wide and turned on the little switch that would make the minijet fire whenever he swung the hammer. The small hiss of the pulse engine was a soothing sound in the face of the powerful opponent he stood against.
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