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Broken (WIP)

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lavecki

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« on: 01:07:16 PM 03/01/16 »
Have you ever punched someone? I mean really punched them. Put your whole body weight into it, connecting your fist into their face.

It doesn't always go like they show on television or in movies. The fist isn't actually designed to punch someone or something. It's main job is to make tasks easier by providing something we can hold and manipulate items with.

The hand is actually comprised of a lot of very small and delicate bones held together by intricate muscles and joints. These create many points of pressure upon ones hand when you do try and break someones jaw. Micro-fractures occur and muscles can tear and rend. This is one of the reasons you see boxers and MMA fighters wrapping their hands. They are trying to keep everything together.

I tell you this now as I was unaware of this until very recently. I was in an alley way, clutching my very broken hand. Cradling it as you would an expensive vase you didn't want to drop. I knew I had broken it the moment my fist connected. Fingers really shouldn't bend that way. The other guy was not in any better shape. I had managed to get his nose in my swing and he had fallen to the ground, a trail of crimson dribbling from his left nostril.

I'm not exactly sure how long it was we stayed there. I was sure the other guy didn't hit his head too hard as i could see him breathing. At some point the rain started.

I remember that even though I was cold and the rain kept falling, I didn't want to go back inside. Felt I couldn't, with my broken hand it would have been an empty "victory" anyway. Not that winning a fight about spilled beer would be a triumph, but alcohol does things to the mind and tempers flared. The buzz must have been wearing off though, as my hand was starting to throb something fierce. I could see blood trickling where my knuckles must have connected with his teeth.

My coat was laying in a puddle now. Stripped off as I was yelling in my bravado. I picked it up with my good hand and shook it off, careful not to jar my hurt hand. The thing was on fire. I walked out of the alley, water streaming off my hair and down the front of my shirt. I was already wet so put on my coat. Maybe the extra layer would do something.

There was a moment when I was doing this that I forgot that my hand was injured and tried to slip it into the sleeve. After feeling like someone stabbed my hand with a knife I recoiled and resided to just draping the coat over my arm. A car drove by and splashed water up onto the curb.

The rain was really coming down now so I made my way to the nearest shop. The closest hospital was a few miles away and I wasn't about to make that trek on foot without some pain killers.

I walked into the store and the little electronic bell dinged. The kid behind the register looked up from a magazine and watched me for a minute before returning. I made my way to the back and grabbed some ibuprofen and a mountain dew, throwback. I liked the natural sugars, made me feel better about drinking 10x the recommended amount of caffeine.

I paid for my items and left, the little bell ringing again on the way out. I threw back the pills, took a long swig from the soda and made my way to the hospital. There was a streetlight across the street that kept blinking on and off, making that electrical "click" sound every time it turned back on.

In order to get to the hospital, I would have to cross through a field. There were comunal gardens that people would tend in the daytime giving a sense of pride and determination. At night it was a bit different. Scarecrows loomed in the distance swaying back and forth. Vegetables created strange blotchy patterns on the ground where they lay. The corn rustled in the wind. I could still hear the clicking of the light in the background, almost like it was muffled by something.

I trudged ahead, the mud making a sucking sound with every step. The rain, which continued to pound, was not making my journey any easier. Not only did it obscure the sky, blocking out the moon and stars, but it drowned out everything with its oppressive wind and chilling water.

I made my way near the little shed that people stored their gardening tools in. The door had blown open and was making a crashing noise as it slammed open and closed. I decided to go and shut it, the latch was still there but the lock that keeps it in place was missing. I went into the shack and pulled the dangling cord attached to a small light, making sure not to hit my hand against anything. The rain and wind were much less oppressive here. Though the howling could still be heard through the cracks in the wood as the shack moaned. As if the wood would split in half any minute. The light illuminated the small space, even as it clicked and sputtered on and off. I was able to find a small wooden shaft, like the ones used to hold up tomato plants. I took it and wedged it into the latch. It wouldn't keep anyone out, but it would keep the door closed at least.

The hospital was in the distance at this point, lights visible through the dreariness. Climbing the hill was difficult as I was forced to take it slow with only one hand. The rain lessened considerably as I reached the top, little more than mist at this point. I was startled by the steady click that I could hear now. None of the lights here were blinking and it sounded different. Like when you drop a pebble onto the floor.

I waited for the road to clear and crossed it, making my way to the Emergency Room. I took out my wallet and placed it on the counter, digging my insurance card out. The nurse at the front desk asked what I was in for and I shrugged aside my coat so she could see my hand.

(Ending to follow)
« Last Edit: 10:50:55 AM 09/06/17 by lavecki »

Zathoth

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« Reply #1 on: 02:43:14 PM 03/01/16 »
And all kinds of questions pop into my head. I think that is the mark of a great creepy pasta. Not just the horror itself, but the entire "Wait does this mean..."

I like how we never get to know why the narrator got in a fight either, it happened, that is important.

My theory about what happened is that the guy he punched either put a curse on his hand or is just some kind of supernatural creature you shouldnt punch. Or maybe the narrator is undead...


G. Preeb

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« Reply #2 on: 06:14:01 PM 03/01/16 »
I think that this story is fairly unique. I don't think I've seen a concept like this used before, at least, not like this. The clicking noise that you described really paid off in the end, because I could visualize it in my head.

I did see a couple problems, but they're very nit-picky.

One involves the field you had the character go through. When I imagine a field, I think of dirt and plants, like you described. But I know from experience that objects don't make much of a sound when dropped in the dirt, unless they're really heavy. In other words, it would be impossible for the character to hear his own bone fragments falling whilst walking through the field.

The other involves the kid in the store. If the character's hand was really that badly injured, the kid would have said something. I think cutting it out completely wouldn't take much out of the story.

If I may make a suggestion, I would change the ending. Instead of his own bones falling to the ground, I think it would be more creepy if the main character turned around in the hospital and saw the man he'd punched standing right behind him, spitting out shards of broken teeth.
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lavecki

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« Reply #3 on: 06:58:16 PM 03/01/16 »
Yea, I  noticed that thing about the field too. The idea behind the kid in the store not seeing it was two fold. It hadn't started happening (he didn't hear the clicking until after he left the store) and his jacket was covering his hand.

SUGGESTED ENDINGS:
Original (Hand Rot) - She reeled back in disgust. Another clicking sound. Like marbles on the floor. I looked from her face to my hand. My fingers were hanging limp from the small amount of flesh that still connected them. My knuckles were essentially gone. As I looked on my pinky finger fell to the floor, a bit of bone bounced out of it, clicking along the waiting room tile.

DeepFriedHampster (Unconsious Narrator) - Just then the doors behind me burst open. Two EMTs rolled in a man on a gurney. He looked familiar. He had apparently flatlined on their way over. Severe head trauma, bar fight. They hooked up the paddles and shouted "clear". Again they tried. "Clear." A tugging from my arm. "Clear". I coughed myself awake. Lying on a hospital gurney. They said I was technically dead for six minutes. They broke two of my ribs doing CPR. Apparently the guy I punched had friends. They cracked part of my skull. It took me three weeks to recover. On rainy days, I can still feel my bones clicking against each other.

HyperThermal (Insect Crab Monster Man) -

G. Preeb (Man that got Punched is Spitting out bits of his teeth) -

Stex85 (Mouth Hands) - She screamed. I was momentarially taken aback. I knew my hand was broken but I did not expect it to illicit that response from an ER nurse. I approached her and she backed up out of her chair and pressed herself against the wall. "I don't know what kind of trick this is," she said looking from me to my hand, "but you can go to hell, it isn't funny."

I just looked at her, my mouth hanging partially open. I looked down at my hand and saw what she was talking about. Jagged bits of bone like protrusions were sticking out of my hand all over the place. They were worming their way out. There appeared to be a pattern to them. Circular. The one on my knuckle had a large gap inside of it. I screamed. They screamed back. Clicking their "teeth" together.
« Last Edit: 02:46:13 PM 09/06/17 by lavecki »

urkelbot666

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« Reply #4 on: 10:08:19 AM 09/06/17 »
This is a pretty fun story, I think. I like that there is a lot of vagueness, and some stuff left up to the reader to interpret. The pacing felt pretty even to me, and fairly brisk, which works well. I think the story length is pretty much perfect, I think if it went on much longer it would have felt like it was stringing the reader along, as it is, it seems to present enough information and leave us wanting just that little bit more.

As for the ending, I'm a little torn. The original ending works well because of the setup in the beginning regarding the nature of a fist, and the physical, skeletal makeup of a hand. It helps tie the story together at the end, but doesn't give away too much too soon. However, I also love the idea that the narrator's hand has turned into some hideous mouth/teeth thing simply because it's so weird and unexpected!

The story had a few typos and maybe a wording or two that felt a bit strange to me, but certainly nothing distracting. I'm glad I read this one!
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