Maniacs with Knives, page 1
Maniacs with Knives
Copyright: Shaun Hupp
Published: April 2017
The right of Shaun Hupp to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by his in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
All the characters in this book are fictitious,
and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead is coincidental.
Praise for Maniacs with Knives
“A much needed voice in extreme horror.”
-Tim Miller, author of Fifty Shades of Hell
“Not your typical horror story. This will make you clench the seat and reach for the lights. Bloody, gruesome and depraved. Totally worth it!”
“An absolute mind fuck of human nature horror from beginning to end! This one is going to be hard to beat in 2017”
-American Mary, Fans of Modern Horror
“Shaun Hupp is a twisty fucker who can really get into the dark places that make my 'creepy girl' parts tingle. Fantastic.”
-Rayne Havok, author of XXX
“Probably the most extreme thing I’ve read in a long time”
-13, Fans of Modern Horror
“Gird your butts.”
-Betty Rocksteady, author of Like Jagged Teeth
For David Tamarin,
Never let your dream die. Let it brutally kill you over and over for an audience. Just make sure to get every wound, every scar, and every unnecessary amputation all down between the covers of a book. I’d read the shit out of that. Much love and respect.
And for Becky,
Some people enter our lives and never leave a lasting impact on us. You are not one of those people. You have left a crater in my heart and filled it with love, respect, humor, and above all else, friendship. It’s a shame I have to share you with the rest of the world, but it would be unfair to deprive them of you. Keeping on doing what you’re doing.
A NOTE TO THE READER
Fuck you. Still with me? Good. Fuck you again.
Let me explain a little about my work. I’m calling it unapologetic horror because I’m tired of apologizing to those who can’t handle my writing. This world is becoming full of trigger warnings, and this is yours. Within these pages, you will not find a safe place. This is extreme horror with the emphasis on extreme. You’ve been warned.
I’m not here to be your friend. I’m here to mess with your head. As an author, I thought about saying that I was going to ‘rape your mind,’ but that wouldn’t be true. You bought, borrowed, or stole this book. You opened its pages. You are a consenting adult. There is no rape involved. I’ll tell you right now that this book contains depravity, bloodshed, and psychological torture for not only the characters but the reader as well.
I tried to stop you.
You’re going to turn the page.
I’m not sorry.
Meet the Maniacs
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
Erin couldn’t see anything. At first, she thought she was blindfolded or that something was covering her face. That wasn’t true. She had shaken her head when she had first woken up and felt nothing covering it. Her eyes weren’t blocked or shut. They were open. Darkness was all she could see.
Where am I?
More concerning was the question of why were her hands tied behind her back. She tried to move her feet but found they were also bound. Once she got her equilibrium focused, Erin realized that she was facing upward. She was lying on a bed. The mattress beneath her stank of urine and something else, something familiar. Erin gagged as she breathed it in and realized that she couldn’t feel any clothes on her body. The bed felt moist against her bare skin.
“Is this some kind of joke? Real funny, Ja-“
Jake. Now, I remember.
She was out on a date with her boyfriend, Jake. They had went out to the movies since it was a Friday. Her parents wouldn’t let her go out on school nights, but that was coming to an end. Graduation was just around the corner, and soon she would be off to college. She and Jake had talked about getting an apartment off campus. Luckily, they were going to the same school. Everything seemed to be going perfectly.
And now this.
Erin closed her eyes, remembering that you can adjust your eyes to the dark if you keep them closed for thirty seconds. She began to count, slowing down slightly as the numbers climbed. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to see her surroundings. It was at eighteen the black on the inside of her eyelids turned red. She opened her eyes and was staring at a single lightbulb swinging above her head from a chain.
“Hello? Who’s there? This isn’t funn-“
Looking around, she saw the mattress. The smell she couldn’t identify earlier, the coppery smell that she thought she recognized, was partially-dried blood and the mattress was covered in it. A scream came from the back of her throat but was quickly snuffed out by a hand that was slapped across her lips.
“Hush now. We can’t have you ruining those vocal chords of yours.”
The man appeared at her side. He looked in his late forties with graying hair and beard. He was tall and thin to the point he looked emaciated. His dirty clothes hung from his frame as if he was a wire hanger.
“There will be plenty of time for screaming later.” He removed his hand but kept it close just in case she screamed again. When he was satisfied, he sat down in the chair next to the bed. “I suppose you’re a little confused about how you ended up here.”
Where was here?
She looked past him and saw pale gray bricks. The ceiling where the bulb hung was plain drywall. In front of her, there was a table and chair set. There were no windows. Only a single door offered her any sort of hope.
I’m in his basement.
“Are. . . Are you going to kill me?”
The man laughed. It was a great booming laugh despite his size and age. After several seconds, a fit of coughing took over. “Now, there’s the million dollar question: Am I going to kill you? No. I’m not going to kill you. Well, I shouldn’t say that. You know how people never say, ‘I’m dying’ but really they are. We all are eventually. It just won’t happen for a really long time. Think about this situation in the same way. I’m going to kill you. . . Just not for a really long time.”
Erin started sobbing. “Why!? What did I do?”
“I see something in you. You’re stunning. I don’t see any tattoos or piercings on you. You’re flawless. Even your long, red hair looks like your natural color from what I’ve seen on the rest of your body. You don’t see that too often anymore. Everyone wants to put a hole in their body or cover their skin with gaudy art.” He stood up and walked toward the foot of the bed where the table was. Erin’s eyes never left him. He kept his back to her. “You, my dear, are a blank canvas. The art I put on your body will not be gaudy. I will make you even more beautiful.”
He turned around. In his hands, he held a silver tray that contained several large knives. Each was spotless and looked brand new. Erin feared that wasn’t the case.
“Though I’m afraid I might have to add a few holes.”
The holes of the showerhead came to life, shooting out water as the knob was turned full blast. Jen leaned her head back and pulled her long, black hair behind her, letting the hot stream spray against her chest. Her hands
“Oh, Troy,” she whispered, then realized that with her parents not home, there was no need to be quiet. She pushed another finger in. “Troy!”
As her fingers slipped in and out, she pictured in her mind all the things she wanted Troy to do to her when he came over later. In a discrete, black bag under her bed, she had her outfit ready for tonight. Jen felt weird going into that store a week ago. She didn’t know what to expect because all its windows were covered in cheap blinds. Luckily, the cashier working that day was female, and there was no one else in the store. Her biggest fear was being ogled by a bunch of perverts. Knowing time probably wasn’t on her side, she quickly made her way to the intimate apparel section. She found her size in a lacy, red outfit that she wasn’t even sure what to call. The cashier must have noticed how embarrassed she was and barely spoke to her when she rang her up. Jen was grateful.
She and Troy had been a couple for several months now. They had both been each other’s firsts, but Jen suspected if the rumors were true, she wasn’t really his first. It didn’t matter, though. She was in love. They hadn’t official said it yet, but she had a feeling after tonight, he might just utter those three little words. She would make sure he forgot the names of any other girls he had been with.
Her fingers moved faster. She felt her body begin to tremble as her moans intensified. Her hand left her breast and reached out to grab ahold of the shower rack to steady herself. She imagined Troy thrusting into her. His strong arms holding her down. His body pressed against hers. She screamed out as her orgasm shot through her body.
She smiled, feeling her body return to normal. She was still horny and didn't mind one bit.
I can’t wait for him to show up.
But there were three things Jen was unaware of.
First of all, she didn’t realize the handwriting on the note left by her parents was not her parents’. They were not going to spend the night out at a fancy restaurant. Inside, they would be spending the evening stuffed in the trash can in the garage, their limbs separated from their bodies and stuffed into garbage bags.
Secondly, she didn’t realize that Troy wasn’t coming over. While she was showering, a text was sent from her phone saying she had to cancel, that her parents were staying home now. He was crushed, and so was the phone, now in two pieces on the floor.
And last of all, she didn’t see the man that was watching her the entire time she was in the shower. Nor did she see the meat cleaver in his hand, still covered in fresh blood.
“Stop me if you’ve heard this one. A guy walks into a bar. . .”
“Please. Are you serious? Is this what our conversation has resorted to? Bad jokes?”
Alex didn’t know what to say. The two men had sat at the bar all afternoon, and Alex was the one doing most of the talking. He was a regular at this bar, but he had never seen this guy before. “So, what do you want to talk about, big guy?”
The other man was named Owen. Other than that, Alex didn’t know much about him except that he didn’t live around here and he liked whiskey. It didn’t even seem to faze him no matter how much he drank. It was probably due to his size. He easily dwarfed anyone else in the room, and it was all muscle.
“We’ve been here for hours, grandpa. Don’t you have some tales of the olden days to regale me with.”
Alex laughed. While he probably had a good twenty years on his twenty-something drinking partner, he never considered himself a ‘grandpa.’ He guessed if anyone in the room compared them, they might see it. Alex certainly let himself go over the years. His full head of hair had started to retreat with all the stress his life had brought him. He knew the guy on the barstool next to him would one day be where he was at. “I’ve got plenty of stories. You just wouldn’t believe them.”
Alex started to say something and then changed his mind. “Nevermind. Hey. How about that terrorist attack in Spain yesterday? That was something. I never thought-“
“I don’t care about all that. Quit stalling. Tell me. You got some secrets, old man?”
The guy was starting to piss him off. Taking another drink, Alex shook his head. “Like I said, you wouldn’t believe it. It’s getting late. We’ve both had a lot to drink. Maybe we should just call it a night.”
Owen stared at the man, then threw back another shot of whiskey. “Pussy.” He put down a wad of cash for the bartender and stood up to leave.
“Wait! Wait. . .”
Owen sat back down and stared at him. His mannerisms suggested that he was waiting to be impressed.
“If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s a pussy. I’ve never told anyone this before. You’ve got to swear to me not to tell anyone else.”
The big man nodded. “I swear.”
“I’m the Bay River Slasher.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to-“
“What!? You didn’t mean to do what? Ruin dinner? Because that’s what you did,” Kimberly’s husband yelled as he threw the plate of food at the wall. It shattered, sending food and broken pieces of porcelain all over the floor. “Now. Clean this mess up.”
Rich stormed off, leaving Kim sobbing over the sink. The argument had started when she placed dinner down in front of him. She knew he would be mad. She knew the meat was burnt. She had gotten careless and made a mistake. She had gotten busy with other chores and forgot to check on the meatloaf.
The past couple of months hadn’t been easy for either of them. Rich had lost his job awhile back, so Kim had to pick up shifts whenever she could at the diner. Her husband took some temp jobs when they came his way, but so far, he had yet to land anything permanent. He spent most of his days job hunting.
Richard had a temper, and his favorite way to take out his aggression was to leave bruises on her body. She could handle it, though. She loved him, and she knew deep down that he loved her. He always apologized after he hit her and she’d forgive him. It was part of their ritual. That was then. Now, it seemed like the stress of being out of work had escalated his anger. Particularly, the past couple of days had been rough. Kim assumed he must have thought he had a job lined up and it fell through.
It’s not like he talks to me anymore.
Kim stared out the window. She wondered if maybe this relationship was a mistake. They had only been married for five years. She shuddered to think what it would be like in another five. It was not getting any better. They both met much later in life. He was a failed musician turned workaholic who decided he wanted to settle down. She was previously married, only to be divorced when she and her then-husband found out she couldn’t have children. She was devastated but thought they could move on. Her husband did. With a new woman.
Maybe I can move on again.
She wasn’t sure if that was possible. She knew every year that went by just made it harder to find someone to be with. Kim was so excited when the online dating site matched her up with Rich. After numerous failed attempts, she convinced herself that she would get her ‘happily ever after’ and she would do whatever it took.
Like being turned into a punching bag.
Kim turned around, ready to accept her husband’s apology as she had done a million times before. They would hug. He’d kiss her on the cheek. He’d wipe her tears away. He’d promise never to do it again.
“Why haven’t you fucking cleaned up the floor like I told you!?”
“I. . . I,” Kim was shocked. This wasn’t normal. She knew he had been acting differently this week, bu
“I. I. I. Stop studdering, bitch! Fucking clean this shit up!”
He clenched his fists and rushed toward her. Without thinking, her right hand reached back and grabbed a butcher knife from the knife block. Before she knew what she was doing, she had the blade handle-deep in Richard’s stomach. All the rage drained from his face, along with its color. He stumbled backward, clutching his stomach. Blood poured from the wound as he tried to make it to the telephone on the wall. Whether it was the blood, or the food, or the shards of plate, Rich’s foot slipped out from beneath him before he could make it. His head smacked hard against the tile. His bloody hand struck the wallpaper, trying to reach for the phone. Kim watched as each strike, each handprint got weaker and weaker until his arm finally hit the floor.
She stood there in silence, listening for him to say something, listening for the sound of his breathing. There was nothing. The room was silent. Then, Kim started laughing. First, it was a little chuckle and then, it became uncontrollable. She looked down at the meatloaf that was now soaked red with blood. It had dawned on her.
“Ketchup. This probably could have been avoided if we had ketchup.”
Mocking the Maniacs
The man chuckled.
“I’m serious,” Erin said, trying to wiggle her hands free from the cord that bound them. “People will be looking for me. My parents, my boyfriend. They will all be looking for me.”
“Let them look.”
Erin was quiet. The man seemed serious with his statement. Is he right? Is this basement so hidden no one would think to look here? He didn’t seem to worry about me yelling for help.
Thinking she had to try a new tactic, she said,”W. . . What’s your name?”
The gaunt man grinned, his flesh bunching up at his cheek bones. His teeth were an aged chessboard: Yellowed molars intermixed with gaps. He was not only Erin’s nightmare but a dentist’s too. “That, my dear, is not something you need to know.”