The Devil's Hands

For the first time in years and years, Mr. Henderson began to weep. It started in his sitting room, completely out of the blue. While watching his brand new 52" television and enjoying a fully organic breakfast, something dark overcame him and his eyes welled up with tears. He then headed up his picturesque spiral staircase (also new) to his large, walk in shower. But the hot water couldn't wash away this seething layer of sin. He simply broke down. He curled into a ball and cried and cried, the thought of what he had become made him physically sick and emotionally distraught. He was crushed, and so he wept for hours, he wept like nobody ever had before. He eventually composed himself, for it was evening now and Mr. Henderson had an important business meeting to go to. This man would simply have to remain at home while Mr. Henderson left, as if he should not be allowed in the outside world anyway! So steady himself he did, and get dressed he did. As he looked in the mirror the horrible feeling that had possessed him for hours slowly began to melt away.

It was such a beautiful day out, stings of clouds sparsely painted on the sky. Mr. Henderson walked down the road outside his house, he had decided not to drive, the exercise would do his ageing legs good. A mother and her daughter walked past, both dressed in their summer clothes. She had little fine legs.

Name of the Game

i wrote this short story very late at night last week, it was influenced by a dream i had whilst staying in my close friend's house. it took around an hour to write and is just over 1,000 words. been thinking of making it into a book this summer if i'm not working/drinking too much, but for now it just reads as a short version of a longer story

wake up
wash ears
wash face
break fast
leave house
walk north
board ship
sail...

Cross 37° S
sudden flash
exit world
enter world
purple sky
purple sea
sail...
dock...

new people
similar people
shun you
shun crew
farmers...
builders...
so intelligent
completely stupid

introduce cruelty
beat children
rape women
the death
the poverty
grow fat
kill children
the pigs

fight
fight
rape
fight...
eat captain
get beaten
get stabbed
die painfully


this is the story of a ship with a mere crew of 10 people (1 captain and 9 seamen) which left this world as it crossed the 37th degree of latitude. it entered another world in a flash of bright white light. it was strikingly similar to the one that we know, but for the vibrant purple sky and sea and the almost constant twilight. the ship soon found port to dock in, a small, isolated island containing no more than 300 inhabitants, all of whom spoke a strange dialect of english.

the islanders were all traditional farmers and builders, and of either white or a slightly tanned complexion with standard physical features. the island was not very developed, although had small amounts of electricity from a windmill. the farmers kept pigs. there was no weapons. the buildings had very unique square architecture, and would have looked futuristic if they had not been crudely built from stone. there was 2 public houses.

the crew of the ship were completely ignored by the islanders. after struggling to sustain themselves, they eventually started to use violence to commandeer food, clothes, and bathing facilities. it became apparent that the islanders had no concept of cruelty or violence as they simply did not defend themselves. the captain soon asserted himself to ruler of the island. his men lived like kings, being well fed and enjoying the spoils of the native women.

the mens greed being instantly fulfilled meant they soon became bored of 'just' domination. they began to beat children and kill and eat men for sport, or else feed them to the pigs. they grew fatter and fatter. the islanders became so downtrodden that they began to die of depression and heartbreak. the crew were not worried by this and their 'sport' became more and more horrific. they buried children in the ground until only their head was showing, masturbated onto it, and then kicked at it until it separated from the body.

the population quickly depleted to almost zero. the last islander was a resilient woman named cunha. sudden realisation that they would not survive without those who they had killed off, the crew began to turn on each other. they first tortured, killed and ate their captain before killing each other in a bloodbath which saw all the buildings destroyed. although a member of the crew had raped her several times during this final battle royale, cunha remained alive. only she and the fat pigs remained of what once was on this peaceful island.

cunha wandered the island for weeks, unable to die quickly but instead suffering intense mental and physical pain and a long drawn out death. the pigs also eventually died of starvation, having feasted on the rotting bodies for quite some time.

the crew had been on the island for 5 weeks