Scorch3000 Fanfiction

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Ryan Ferneau
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Post by Ryan Ferneau »

This topic was ALWAYS disturbing.
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Re:

Post by 661 »

Scorch stood in the shower-cubical in the bathroom of his East London high-rise flat, his back against the ice-cold wall. His head was tilted back, as he pondered the intermittent flutters of a cornered moth. He turned on the taps and a flush of water came trickling down. The weak light of the cloud-covered sky crept through a narrow window, and vaguely illuminated his space-saving bathroom. The dimness in the mist of hot vapour was a veil of melancholy. He ostensibly washed away his sins, gently caressing his faintly sun-scored skin with a feminine net-sponge and Imperial Leather soap.

The depleting air-supply and the hot mist made Scorch slightly dizzy (he had forgotten to open the window again). He leaned back against the cubical-wall and closed his eyes briefly. In a fleeting moment, time seemed to slow, and he was entangled in a bubble of tangible thought. The light had gone and as he moved his arms, trying to make sense of this swoon, he felt a feeling of stiffness, as if he was encased in gel. His thoughts were scattered and illogical. He thought he saw, with what little conscious power he had, random moments of his life fly by; and then Snorby.

Scorch found himself now in the wastes of Sunderland. He stood next to the now nine-year-old Snorby in the backyard of a loathsome “rabbit hutch” home in one of the many daunting council estates of the fallen city. Snorby, now a boy contemplating a sex change, touched him on the arm and then Scorch was filled with failing thoughts and sexual confusions. Snorby’s blonde hair wavered in the gentle breeze and his eyes glinted under the queer illumination of the purple sky. It seemed now that Snorby’s freckles had disappeared and his button-nose was all that was left of his endearing features. Scorch came closer to his mate and pressed against him in a lustful thrash of energy. Then Scorch’s hand found its way down to Snorby’s groin.

Suddenly Scorch awoke to the hammering slaps of Gopher’s hand. Scorch had fainted and Gopher had walked in and found him. Scorch lay afflicted against the wall, his shrivelled mushroom lifeless and dangling.

“Are you alright, my love?” Gopher asked.

“cough – yes I’m fine,” Scorch replied. “Just fainted that’s all.”

Scorch exited the steamy bathroom and found his way to the comfort of his warm bedroom. He dried himself with an already used towel and began putting on his cloths. Now he came into the kitchen and Gopher stood there staring. There seemed to be an evil light in his eyes and Scorch decided that this was a threat to his kittens Layla and Susan. He picked up a large kitchen-knife and, in a thrash of schizophrenic emotions, lashed forward at his lover. Lash after lash he pounded and the haunting, helpless, and confused look of Gopher’s blood splattered face did nothing to stay his arm. Gopher lay now on the floor in a pool of blood, an inch from death and almost encased in the gloom of the inter-dimensional reality that was hell. His mouth twitched slightly as his eyes did the gasping that his mouth could not. His eyes, now twinkling in the light of evil, were more eloquent in this time of death than his mouth ever was.

Scorch began the process of hiding the evidence of his dark deed. He was now a true “wacko”, and in this moment of chaos, he could think only of what was to come, for there was no remorse. He had already killed Tyrannous’ twin brother and got away with it, but now he would be caught. He would be labelled a sexual deviant. He would be shunned forever, like a black swan in the bright sea of chaotic neutralism; the reality for which his nemesis, Tyrannous, became a hooded assassin: a gust of wind in the night, and an invisible force of light that watched the darkness in search of deceivers who would be punished.

Scorch bagged the body parts using thick industrial grade black-sacks. He soaked up the pool of blood with towels and then scrubbed the lino-floor with a heavy grade detergent. Luckily not much blood had splattered around the room. He was careful to find any that had and eradicate it. He bagged all the crap and stripped down to his pathetic and detestable “wacko” body. He shook himself and then made sure that there was no blood on his skin. He took a pair of trainers and a pair of leather gloves from a cupboard, using another towel to avoid leaving bloodstains, and put them on. Then he tied up the bags and made his way to the shower

Now Scorch had finished his shower. And he made sure that there was not a trace left of his foul deed. But there was still the case of the body. What would he do with the body?

Scorch waited until the cover of night. Soon he began the process of dragging the bagged body down five stairwells. He had not thought of where he would take it, but he was dedicated in all his dragging nonetheless. When he came to the ground floor, a fleeting thought grabbed his attention; it was of the small collection of tress that was, quite coincidentally, situated next to the flats. It was about eleven now and he made his way to the trees. Now he began digging a whole with his shovel. He was like a dark and twisted shadow in the gloom of the night, and if anyone had seen his motion, they would have been beset with the hideous allusion of death and deceit, by the deep and sinister recurring process that would be “digging in the night”.

Scorch had a most hideous dream that night. A nightmare so evil, that it left him in a pool of sweat. In the beginning he was in the comfort of his bed; but dark dreams offer foreboding senses of danger and he could not help but feel slightly uncomfortable. Now he found himself outside amongst the trees. He felt a cold breeze against his neck and saw a lump in the ground; this was where he had buried his victim. Suddenly he heard a great sound behind him. But it lacked a distinguishable timbre. Suddenly he felt a great light in front of him. And then, nothingness. He thought he was dead, yet he was wondering if he was alive. This was the paradox that would take him forever more. His dream-state was relaxed for a while, and he appeared before a dashing light: almost a malevolent brightness. There he saw his Snorby. The endearing child that was now his affliction. Snorby reached out with a look in his eyes that would bring a tear to the eye of even the most evil man alive. Scorch tried to touch him, but suddenly Snorby fell backwards. A shadow appeared in the light and grabbed him. Then it brandished an axe and cut through the boy’s head as if it were a coconut.

"Noooooo!" he gasped. "Get out of my mind, Tyrannous."

There was now a sound in the air that waxed, and in this imagination there were no bounds in loudness. It was a shrill sound on a par with a banshee’s scream, but it lacked the timbre-form of a real scream. It was more like menacing power that commanded fear in its victim. Soon Scorch’s perception altered and instead of perceiving a realness of some degree, he found himself wrapped up in pure chaos. An evil chaos. He felt the shadow presence, but it had no location. It was within him. He felt himself screaming now. As the swell of emotion reached white-hot, and as his evil affliction reached so high as to fry his brain, he quickly woke up. As consciousness took him, the screaming of his imagined self died down into a pathetic gurgling sound of the real him.
Last edited by 661 on Sun Apr 18, 2004 5:00 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Post by Commodore »

I do not approve of the use of mushroom in that context.
*POW* *CLANK* *PING*
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dndndndnd

Post by 661 »

Well thaaanks.
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dndndndndndnd

Post by 661 »

Die by my ESP; Scorch, you fag.

:icannotcontrol:
Last edited by 661 on Sun Apr 18, 2004 5:01 am, edited 2 times in total.
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dndndndndndnd

Post by 661 »

What will happen next in the Rick Retro saga? Eh? Will Tyrannous succeed in killing Scorch’s existence through warped and maniacal ESP processes? Will Scorch be arrested and put into an orgy house disguised as a mental-health penitentiary? Will Scorch find his Snorby look-alike and succeed in giving him a sex change?

You decide! Get writing guys.
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Post by phunk »

Image

and then he was seduced by octogirl
we're not bad people, we're not dirty, we're not mean, we love everybody, but we do as we please
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dndndndndnd

Post by 661 »

a man among men wrote:Image

and then he was seduced by octogirl
Your avatar is nostalgic.
Ryan Ferneau
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Post by Ryan Ferneau »

no
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dndndnd

Post by 661 »

...Scorch is gay.
:fsfunky:
Last edited by 661 on Sat Apr 24, 2004 10:01 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by 699 »


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The conditions that you all are bound to have been violated. I will now report this to whoever the hell i have to report it to.

Tyrannous, it's so good to see that you can insult a guy who's not their to defend himself. Send your shit to my e-mail adress
scorch3000@yahoo.com
and i'll send you the shit back. Kay? Fucking retard.

Oh, about ban evading, i did it to get a message to a bunch of fucking twits who think they have some god given rights to treat me like shit. If they have a problem use my email or livejournal
livejournal.com/users/scorch3000

(edited to fix e-mail)
Last edited by 699 on Sat Apr 24, 2004 9:05 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by clecky »

holy fucking shit.

shut the fuck up you sack of anal tickle
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Post by Homz »

haha scorch spelled his email address wrong
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Post by 699 »

Clecky wrote:holy fucking shit.

shut the fuck up you sack of anal tickle
Shut up you arse bandit! Fucking cock master!
Ryan Ferneau
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Post by Ryan Ferneau »

I am sure you won't be re-banned for THAT.
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