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Little Boy
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((B132 - Jay Holland Start))

Jay Holland lay sprawled across the couch in his apartment, the blinds shut and the lights off. It had seemed like it had taken forever for Jay to find his way back to the apartment, the buses in St. Paul didn't run all night, and stranded across town he had found himself in quite a predicament. Eventually at around 4 in the morning, Jay had managed to bum his way back to the modest apartment complex where he lived and slip through the back door of his house. His mother appeared to be sleeping, and not wanting to risk waking her at such a bizarre time, Jay had simply decided to collapse on the giant couch and catch some much needed shuteye.

He yawned and flipped over. That all had occured at least a few hours ago. He'd awakened, stiff from the walking with his head spinning. He let out a groan and looked out towards the gigantic grandfather clock across the room.

10 AM. Monday Morning. Jay's brow wrinkled in confusion, and he began to rub the gunk out of his eyes. Usually his Mom kicked up a racket in the morning, and it was near impossible to sleep through her morning routines. He should have heard her if he was on the couch, hell, she probably would have kicked him in a bid to get him up and moving for school. But yet, the apartment was silent... silent safe for a strange chopping noise coming from the kitchen. The rhythm was perfect, a steady chop ever two or three seconds. Jay sniffed the air.

Something was cooking. He sat up on the couch and pulled up his blue jeans. He shook his head and tried to fix his sweaty mop of hair, still tied back in a ponytail. He felt like a pile of shit. A shower would be in order. Jay groaning, got up and headed towards the kitchen.


The smell... it was unlike anything he'd ever smelt before. A mixture between Grade A steak and some kind of high class cuisine. His stomach growled expectantly. He was hungry, and he could feel it. His Mom had never cooked anything that had smelt this good before...

Entering the kitchen, Jay was overwhelmed by the smell. It filled his nose, caressing his senses, his mouth watered and he rubbed his stomach. His mother stood at the stove, back turned, dutifully hacking away at the meat.

"Lookin' hoof Mom. I didn't know you had a day off." He said as he pulled out a chair, taking his seat at the small table the Hollands' used to serve supper on. It was covered in paper and trash and Jay gave a disgusted growl, shoving it onto the floor, clearing a spot for himself. The entire apartment looked messy come to think of it.

Didn't ever seem to get this dirty... I wonder why?

"Why's the place so messy? I thought you liked to keep things clean.." He said towards his Mother in a joking manner.

No answer.

Jay realized what was going on. The cold shoulder. She'd probably woken up late, to realize that Hay was crashed on the couch, dead to the world. Yet another unexplained abscence for the teachers to mark down in their books. Not that they cared, this was Jay Holland, slacker extraordinaire.

"Er," he began befor stopping himself. He didn't really have an explanation for why exactly he had been out so late. So, like many things in Jay Holland's life, he decided to half-ass it. His Mother stood dutifully at the cutting board, never failing to miss a chop every two (or three?) seconds. If Jay didn't know any better, he would have thought she wasn't paying attention.

"So, Ma, I know it's Monday... yeah I do know what day it is, don't worry. Uh. Well, look, first off. I don't exactly have anything y'know, due today. English, it's just all review. I didn't have anything to hand in for Math, so like, it's all just review y'know? I DID try to get away early but man... well, I DID get away early. Like, when I left the place uh, I was at, Alex and them, they were still partying. I was like 'Hey, we gotta get to school tommorrow', but nuh-uh, they wouldn't listen. So I left alone. I knew I had to get back, y'know, for you. It wasn't my fault, y'see the buses all stopped running and then..."

Jay stopped midsentence, or rather, midramble. The smell... the smell had changed. It was different now. It didn't remind Jay of fancy living and good eating anymore no, it was.. rotting. The previously welcome aroma now attacked him at all sides. He tried to think why his Mother was cutting something that was rotting, but his mind wasn't working right. He began again.

"So... I left, right? And I was like, 'Oh I've got to get to sleep for... for tomorrow.' But see.. you got.."

The smell was growing worse.

"Did, did something die in here? Okay look so, I mean, I got in and was just like boom! Out and... really you could have told me you were staying home, I would have set my alarm or something and that you wouldn't have.. waken.. up. Because, really you should have know I sleep.. er.."

Jay began to cough, his eyes began to water. He waved his hand in front of his face, trying to figure out what exactly he'd been saying. This was strange. It was getting worse by the second. Rotting, something was rotting. His Mother dutifully hacked at the cutting board every two or three seconds.

Jay wiped his mouth and coughed. He could see lights dancing in the corner of his vision.

Welcome to Surviv...

It doesn't ever get this messy. Who're these people? What's a Riz.. Smell. Why does it smell?

"Man, this- this is really bad Mom. You trying to kill me with this stuff?" Jay laughed. He reached up and covered his mouth with his sweater sleeve. He cursed.

"Mom, it's rotten. Why're you... why do you just... Why... It's gotta..."

Jay stood up abruptly, his chair toppling backwards. His mother looked strange. His vision was becoming blurry, the image of his mother was disolving into a hazy green mess and Jay could feel himself swaying back and forth, as if he were being carried somewhere by someone.

"Wait, wait! Stop! It... can't... Leave me here for a min... just... gotta breath." Jay stumbled forth and grabbed his Mothers' arm. Spinning her about, he realized why she looked so bizarre. She was young. She was so young. Jay had never seen his mother look this way, except in old photographs, back with her parents.. back with his dad... Her knife was crimson and she was still chopping through the green filter, methodically with no emotion whatsoever. Cutting the skin. Cutting the flesh. Cutting into the face of Jay Holland, laying upon the tray. Black gunk oozed from beneath the skin, mizing with the blood to create a thick black paste that dripped down the countertop, and stained the front of his Mother, as if she had been doing arts and crafts.

Jay opened his mouth to speak and calmly realized that that wasn't possible. His mouth was filled with the same godawful concoction, it oozed out the sides of his mouth and down his shirt. Jay realized rather matter-o-factly that it was dripping from his nose as well. His mother smiled.

"You ain't worth it Jay. You were never worth it."

And Jay felt to his horror, something clawing it's way up his throat and out his mouth.


Jay Holland awoke with a start, the cool sunlight upon his face. He rolled about on the ground, trying to figure out why he felt so strange, why he could feel something tight around his neck. His past memories faded into a fuzzy blur and the smell of rotting meat faded from his memory.

Oh Man, was I dreaming? Did I... what's going on..?

Jay snapped back to reality and staggered to his feet, adjusting his black toque upon his head and shaking his head to clear the cobwebs.

Did I get wasted? Fuckin' booze, I hate booze... Fuckin' Christ, isn't this a camping trip?

Jay looked around, scanning his immediate surroundings. He was in the woods, well, some type of wooded area. He didn't know where. His memories flooded back to him, the room, the gunfire...

This.. this is real. Am I going to.. Why? Why us?

Why not?

Jay looked down, his pack lay on the grassy floor, his name and some number written on it. He reached down and unzipped the pack, glancing at the contents, his heart hammering.

This is insane. Do they really think we're going to kill each other? What a joke. No, no, this isn't going to happen. People here, Bayview, we're a little crazy, but not THAT type of crazy.

Jay's mouth fell open in surprise as he pulled a small pistol from his pack, something he was suprisingly familiar with.

A Nambu Pistol? This is what the Jap Officers in Call of Duty have! I get a pistol? Why do I get a pistol? Is that supposed to mean something?

Jay examined the gun for a minute. He wasn't exactly familiar with weapons, but he knew there was usually a switch on them, a safety to prevent misfiring it. That little informative clip the bastards had shown had showcased it. That Psycho... Riz. How did he remember that? He prayed the weapon had one. He didn't want to accidentally blow someone's balls off walking through the woods. In the end however, Jay couldn't bother to find it and decided to simply hold the pistol for now. He picked up his pack and slung it over his shoulder.

"Fuckin' Christ, this is nuts..." He breathed through his mouth as he began to walk through the woods. "Was I layin' here clocked out for the last few fucking hours? Yeah, great plan on an island full of potential psychos.."

That's a great idea. A plan. I should get one of those.

Jay headed off through the woods, looking for something that he could use as a waypoint.

Could you kill your best friend Jay..? Could... could your best friend kill you?

He shivered. "Well, let's find out." He said, rubbing his neck. Was the collar chafing him? Why did his throat hurt so much?
Edited by Little Boy, Aug 11 2010, 04:55 PM.
Posted Image Posted Image
Oswaldo Marx --> "Chicks dig scars? Yeah, I'm calling bullshit." --> Cicada Nights
Mikko "Mike" Korhonen --> "Interesting, very interesting!" --> A Casual Question
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