Here, I, would like to showcase all you up and coming authors/authoress's by
allowing you to have your dark writings displayed here for all to read.
To have your own horror stories placed here, all you need to do is send me 
your story as well as your name and site address (if you have one). You will
then have your story placed upon it's own page, if you wish, you may also 
include a short biography to go at the base of your story. Needless to say 
your stories shall be credited to you. 

- Another War, Another Time -

It was in the middle of the night when I was awoken and taken from my cell. Naturally this
was quite alarming as it was unusual. Never had they woken me before the sun had risen. I 
feared that my status might have changed. Possibly those who thought themselves as gods and
their obedient Generals had been disposed. A new and less ruthless regime might decide that 
my usefulness was no longer needed. Ernst, one of the most brutal and despicable guards, 
banged his truncheon on the bars of my cell. If Ernst had been summoned to his duties in 
the darkest hours of the day, something sensational was taking place.
"Wake up, you." His voice cut through the prison walls. 
"Okay, okay." I stumbled off my crude cot and slipped into my ragged coat and worn boots.
"Much work to do." 
I stood in the cold cell as Ernst slipped the iron key onto the iron lock.
"Come now, no lolly-gagging." Ernst gave a slick smile through his hard jawed, squared head.
I obeyed. Of course I did. There was no recourse. Walking down the dimly lit hall the sounds 
of the late prison night crept into my ears. Screams and howls were in the distance. Men 
begged for their lives and alternately for their deaths. It was the sounds I had come used 
to hearing over the past eighteen months. 
"Everyone works hard tonight." Ernst enjoyed the clatter of the other guards working over 
hapless prisoners. 
I was lucky. Even the brutal Ernst refused to raise a hand against me. Often I saw the look 
in those indifferent green eyes. Oh, how he wanted to strike my flesh and drain my blood. 
Many times I have seen his work. The stripped and beaten bodies sprawled on the cell floor. 
The pools of blood slowly drying. The snapped bones stretching through the nearing broken 
flesh. The bruised eyes swollen shut. Thankfully, those with the real power needed me. Ernst
knew it. He hated me even more for it. Twice he had warned me what would happen if my 
ability was no longer needed.
In a matter of moments we were outside. The night was extremely dark. No moon dared cross 
the horizon. The world was having a bad day. I was not sure what was happening.
We moved out of the main compound and toward the large open field that was once a beautiful 
forest. A battalion of engineers had ripped the trees from the ground. The area was being 
replanted. Death replaced the fertile trees. 
Soon I realized that it was not only the guards and their instruments of torment which were 
working late into the night. The doctors and professors were just as busy. Lights burned in 
the humungous castle which was perched on the hillside. At times winds brought down the 
sounds of experiments failing miserably. 

"Here now, they come." Ernst tapped me gently in the ribs with his truncheon. 
I saw the lanterns lighting the trail from the castle. Quite a bit of work was heading 
toward me. Ernst reached under his great coat and dropped my tools on the ground. 
Quickly I began assembling my pick and shovel. My satchel was also on the ground. 
"Funny little black bag with funny stuff." Ernst tried to laugh but could not. Slowly he 
walked in a tight circle as the small parade marched down the hill toward us. For the first 
time in the year and a half that I had known Ernst, he appeared nervous. Maybe he was just 
tired. A few minutes later the stretcher bearers began to cross the field. They were gaunt 
prisoners without the will to think. Each had given up on life and lived only for a quick 
and painless death. A squad of soldiers effortlessly guarded them. Mechanically the remains
on the stretchers were dumped close to were Ernest and I stood. I counted fifteen stretchers.
Six months ago four had been set from the horrors on the hill. That was the most I had seen 
until this night. Desperation and fear caused the intellectuals to push their probing of 
the unthinkable passed any reasonable limits.
An unarmed junior officer approached me. He handed some supplies to Ernst. Ernst in turn 
gave me the two canteens, a small pot of tea, and a pack of cigarettes. The officer 
commented that he would be back after dawn with some breakfast. Ernst and the officer 
exchanged salutes.
"Now you work."
Ernst surveyed the heaps of mortal debris strewn across the ground. "Sick, sick." He mumbled
these words over and over as he turned and walked away.
I lit my first smoke of the night as I devised my plan. Half of what had been deposited was 
clearly human. Many other were less then remnants. Bits and pieces of flesh, organs, tissue 
and bones were all that composed the other half of the piles. One thing was clear. No matter 
what the state of these unmercifully treated victims, they all refused to die. Life still 
fluttered in these bodies, or what was left of them. 
This was what they always sent me. I was alone now with my work. A smile came over me. The 
power that I had in that barren field. It would be a long night. But it would be worth it. 
Those that could die would find the end. 
It was several hours after dawn when the junior officer returned. I had just finished with 
my work and sat on a large rock. The officer handed me a plate of hot biscuits and sausages. 
He commented that these were from the officer's mess. Slowly he slipped to the ground and 
sat cross-legged. He lit a cigarette and stared harmlessly at me as he smoked.
"The war is not going so good." He waited for me to comment, but I was too busy eating.
"Both in the East and West. It is the Armies heading from the East that scare all of us."
He turned and looked momentarily at the castle. "Even your friend Ernst doesn't like what 
goes on up there. Even a brute like him has some humanity. Funny, ha?"
I handed him my empty plate and shook my head. "No. Not funny at all."
The officer stood. "I know. And here comes your friend to take you back."
Ernst hustled across the field. His mind was elsewhere. The war must be going terrible. 
I should probably rejoice in that. But I knew better. No matter who won, I would have no
liberation.

It was three days later when the massive pressure from the West cracked open the front. 
I was once again working at night. An orange glow flickered on the horizon. The enemy's 
artillery was chewing up one of the best fighting machines ever assembled. 
Everything was now going haywire. The camp was being emptied. Many of the prisoners were
marched to the far edge of the field and machine gunned into mass graves. Others were
jammed onto lorries and sped away. The stretched bearers were busy brining down the 
final failed experiments. A Colonel and a Major stood over me as I worked. They threatened
me with a bullet to the brain if I failed. I knew they would not kill me. 
Finally the war drove into the compound. Many of the soldiers surrendered happily. The 
Army from the West won this battle. 
I was liberated by a tank crew. A Lieutenant shook my hand. He was corn-fed from some 
distant farm land and happy. "You're safe now, Buddy. Where you from?"
I shook my head. He would never believe me anyhow. The tank crew was trying to tell me 
all the good they had done in this war. They thought that tyranny had finally been thrown
off the face of the earth. I am not sure how many times I had seen this in my life. 
One evil emperor is vanquished, but soon another takes his place. 
For hundreds of years I have seen this happen. It is my punishment. For all I know I am
the only one to be cast from Hell to Heaven. Then I fell out of grace of the glorious
 ones and was cast to earth. But I had powers that could be useful to humans. 
There was always someone who discovered these. It never mattered what side they were on.
Good or evil could find a way to utilize my skills. If they could not realize it right 
away, I could always lead them to it. Like I did on my first day in this death camp. 
Perform a small feat of magic and the rank and file foam at the mouth.
It did not take these victors long to discover that I had a power stronger then death.
I was put in a small room with one of their Colonels. He was well versed in the ways 
of the darker elements of man. I explained how I assisted his enemy. They tried to 
cross the line between life and death, but were only able to go half way. Their 
attempts at creating a superhuman faltered time and time again. They had no manner 
to annihilate what still existed in those broken used bodies. I was able to destroy 
what they created. 
"I'm afraid that we can't send you home." The Colonel gave me a pack of cigarettes. 
"But you'll be taken care of." He handed me my satchel. 

For many years they had no real use for me. I lived in an apartment that was a prison. 
Finally after nearly sixty years they came for me. A Captain and four Military Policemen
escorted me to an airfield. My escorts accompanied me on my flight. After many hours in
the air we landed. The back bay door opened angrily. 
The Captain walked me outside. The intense heat and sand-driven air greeted me.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"Baghdad." He smiled.
"Iraq." I laughed.
"Yea, I hear you haven't worked since just before Nazi Germany fell."
"Yes."
"Oh, man...." He slapped my back. "You're gonna get a bang out of what these 
Bastards have done."
We both laughed as we walked over a sand dune toward a burial field.

- By Scal Williams -

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