A Freak for All Time

This is a rather old story of mine that I had been written a long time ago. I\'ve considered finishing it, but I thought I might share it with the world first.

Cye Borian

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Chpt 1

We strode out into the field that night. It was dark, smelling like the midnight dew, with only the light of the full moon to illuminate the ground before us. The Battleground.

Every full moon we come out to this place. The reason is lost to us. For six long years, we have returned to this field. Every full moon we come to shed blood.

There he is on the edge of the field. Once again he is wearing the ripped muscle shirt he wore since the first moon we “experienced” together. It was flapping loosely with the wind, but that won’t be a problem for long.

The hour has come...

From up above, the moon shinned gently on us. “You ready, Freak?” He called.

I smirked from beneath my black-hooded cloak, “As ready as you are monster!”

He screamed madly as he pounded the ground with his giant club, “That isn’t my name you son-of-a-bitch!” The warrior started to glow strangely, “I am Ogre! The greatest fighter in the world!” By then the 6ft 1in man had turned into an 8ft 600lb Ogre. His already gruff face had taken a new turn with a set of tusks jutting out from his lower jaw. Dark leathery skin and muscle now replaced the tanned and exercised body of his. The shirt of his was no longer flapping in the wind, but instead stretched to its limits by the expanding demonic muscles behind it.

He was truly a monster in every sense of the word, but I wasn’t far off myself. I could feel the numbness settling over my entire body. As my breath became more and more shallow I felt my heart stop beating. At my feat I felt bits of dead flesh and tissue fall off my body.

I was dead.

I was alive.

I was the undead. A walking corpse. Feeling my newly exposed bones shiver slightly in the cool breeze, I threw my head back and gave out a shriek that to this day still rocks the heavens. You could see my terrorizing form easily in the moonlight. I was a walking skeleton. I have no idea on how such a creature was possible, but on every full moon I would die and turn into this maddened, bloody skeleton.

Let the blood flow...

He lunged at me with his mighty club. As I easily dodged the drunken Ogre, he created another clap of thunder with the blow of his club. In retort I quickly spun around and put the heel of my palm into his temple.

Ogre stumbled backwards, his grotesque head swaying heavily as he was dazed. He recovered quickly, however, and placed the back of his large hand across my chest, knocking me on my backside. Grinning, the Ogre raised his club high into the air, “Ever play golf, ass-wipe?”

My next sensation was of me flying through the air again...without my body. I screamed in fright as I passed through groups of trees and wildlife. In the distance I can see what he was aiming for. A large group of boulders and stones was directly in my landing path. In my mind’s eye I could see myself shattering against the hand rocks, sending the shards of my skull skittering across the rocks. I heading down, down, closer, faster...

You lose again...


* * * * * * * * * * * *


“I’ll get you Ogre! OGRE!” I screamed as thrashed about my brightly lit room. Stumbling and tumbling every time stood, I kept getting louder and louder with my curses. Out of the corner of my eye I saw one of the more burly, male nurses at the door to my padded cell. I shut up quickly. The last time I carried on like this they gave me something to really scream about. So I decided to play dead again until he left.

The male nurse soon left and I continued my struggling in my jacket. I’ve been in this infernal room for just over three years. And for those three long years, I would be visited by the doctor who would do no more than mock me and call me a socially depressed creature. The door opened right on cue and shut with a loud clang. “Right on time, doctor,” I sighed sarcastically, no even bothering to look at him. I slowly began to sit up so we could get this over with.

“Nice to see you again, Freak”

I froze. That voice... a voice gruff, yet enticing to those who heard it. A voice that seemed so full of life, but that’s impossible.

“You’re d-dead,” I stammered as I looked into the figure’s face. “Mr. Zandre, you’re dead. I saw you murdered before my eyes!”

The once powerful executive now in a doctor’s uniform looked down at me, “Yeah, so?”

“Am I dead?”

“You will be unless you listen,” said Mr. Zandre as he helped me up to my feet. “Its been long time Freak. Why did you have to be thrown in a place like this, though?”

I leaned against the wall, “Surprisingly it wasn’t difficult. Some how Ogre planted a diced up family in my apartment during one of our fights. I was woken up to the sounds of the police smashing my door down and dragging me away. I don’t even think there was a trial. I was so beaten up that I was in the infirmary for most of it, but what does it matter? I don’t care if I really live anymore.”

“Why is that?”

I looked down as I began to recall the past, “I just haven’t since I failed you.” It was a painful memory to remember. I wish I could forget it all, but unfortunately things never work out as you would like.


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Seven years ago, before all the fighting, Ogre and I were best friends who where hired as security personnel for the Alpok Corporation. We were great together. With his strength and my brains we were the perfect team on the graveyard shift. I wasn’t until one fateful night that our reality changed.

Mr. Zandre was holding a very hush-hush meeting over his will and the future of this company. Apparently he originally wanted to hand the company over this his only son when he died, but this idea changed when Mr. Zandre started to hear words of some shady deals with his son and black marketers. He became even more concerned when the people who were telling him these stories were beginning to disappear after he confronted his son.

I noticed Michael, Mr. Zandre’s son, that night escorting a young woman into the building. Even from our security cameras we could tell that she wasn’t wanting to go along with him. After observing her struggling and fighting to get away from him I had turned to Ogre to stop him.

Too late. Before I could talk to him he was already gone with his nightstick. I returned to the monitors smiling to myself, “Son or not, he isn’t pulling that crap on our shift. Huh?” No sooner have I said those words than the pair walked out of one of the elevators into his Michael’s personal office, but they weren’t fighting. That’s when I noticed who the woman was. She was the head of security, Ms. Hoyle! Something wasn’t right and I knew it. I began to a quick search through all the cameras in the building. I searched frantically through every corridor, every room, every elevat-shit!

“Ogre, come in!” I shouted into my radio. I just noticed there was a lone briefcase in the elevator the pair were riding in. I checked the computer records quickly to find out where that elevator car was heading: Mr. Zandre’s office.

“Ogre here,” came the rumbling voice of Brando Da Ogre Fashkin, “What’s wrong?”

“Brando, we have a possible bomb in the corporate elevator. Hurry and try to stop it!”

I turned back to the computers to attempt to stop the elevator. As I put the commands in to shut it down the entire security system went dead. Smoke started to flow from one of the access panels in our security station. Evidently our fearless corporate head of security played with the systems.

Ogre was having his own problems. As our conversation ended and he was holstering his radio, he heard a faint metallic clicking. Being raised as a child in what can only be called a war zone, Ogre quickly dived to his left as a bullet flew by and destroyed a desk lamp. Without thinking, Ogre threw his nightstick at his attacker. What happened next was just short of amazing. The nightstick connected with the sickening crack of a broken leg on Ms. Hoyle. As she screamed in pain, her gun went wild and planted a bullet through Michael Zandre’s chest. The poor bastard was dead before he hit the ground next to his now crippled date.

Enraged, Ogre picked up his trusty nightstick in one hand and Ms. Hoyle’s hair in the other and held them both to each other. Ms. Hoyle cried for help, but was met only by the words that Ogre gave her, “If you move or as much as bleed on this carpet before I get back, I will take use this as a stake and drive it through your black heart. Understand, Hoyle?” She cried out in understanding as he left for the elevators. As he told me later, he could smell the scent of her urine all the way down the hall when he left. She definitely understood him.

“Brando, come in,” I called through the radio, “Someone took out our security station, but I was able to jury-rig a few things together for some of the cameras. Where are you?”

“Jesse, I’m still on the 11th floor. It looks like our boss, Ms. Hoyle was on someone else’s payroll,” Ogre called back. The building began to shudder slightly. “Oh God! That briefcase must have been a bomb. Get the authorities over here now! I’m going up there to Mr. Zandre’s office. Meet me there.

I quickly got into the phone systems and called the fire department and ran to meet up with my partner. The damage was extreme. The room was repainted a damp, charcoal black. The room, even though it was burnt to a crisp, was completely soaked from the high power sprinkler system that was installed. All the windows that were on this floor were gone, shattered from the shockwave of the bomb. The view outside then was a dark one as a raging storm outside was reaching a high point. Beyond all the darkened books and what used to be a conference table and the primary board members sat the remains of Mr. Zandre. The once proud CEO of the Zandre Corporation was now nothing more than a burnt piece of meat with all of his hair gone and flakes of his skin falling away as ashes. Strange though, that even with all the sprinklers going he was still burning.

I turned green as I laid my eyes on him. Ogre himself was paler than a ghost. At the time I could think of nothing more than giving the situation a good vomiting, but I figured I could try to hold on to that for later as I still have things to do. I turned to leave to go back downstairs when I heard the voice, “Before you try to stain my already ruined carpet, let me assure you that I am not dead yet.” My blood turned cold as I turned back around to see the burning corpse begin to talk.

Mr. Zandre made a noise that I assumed to be a chuckle, but ended up being a gurgle, “For a person who’s life will determine our very existance you are slow.