Wednesday, December 5, 2012

the Day that Never comes(Serial Fiction)

(I'm going to try something new here. Before I publish my latest novel I'm going to Serialize it on this blog. Each update will be at least a thousand words in length)

The Day that Never Comes

Henry Cantu did not like his new cell. He did not like his food, he did not like the new CO's, which were really, soldiers, and most importantly, he did not like what was happening to him.
Henry could now stretch.
At first he would only do his hand. He would simply think it, and his fingers would grow. There would be a popping and cracking sound, and the whole thing would just...lengthen. It didnt hurt, but after a minute or so, his fingers would return back into a normal size.
The first time, he beat on the cell wall. There was no door, he could see, but the entire front of the cell wall was clear plastic, or glass, but maybe five inches thick. On the other side there were the constant red lights of someone running video cameras. Henry would pound on the glass and shout "There's something wrong with me!" In english or spanish, but no one would come. Sometimes he would try yelling "Fuck you!" But no one answered.
There was a trick he had tried in Federal Prison, to get the guards attention sometimes. The clear wall had a food slot that was opened to let a tray in for him to eat. When it was opened he shot his arm through, to prevent it from being shut. There was immediatedly a jolt of horrible pain, and he found himself curled up in a ball on his cell floor, whimpering. They had tased him.
After that he did not stick his hand out the food slot again. Instead he spent his time doing his only activity, stretching. There was no rec yard, here, no common area. No one to give him a book to read. Henry would shout through the air vent, to see if anyone was in a cell next door, but there was no response. So he sat on his bunk and stretched.
He found that if he tried, he could make his entire hand wider, across the palm. Then he made his arm longer. He would sit with his back to the wall, on one side, and stretch his arm until it reached the far wall. When he did this a few times it did not go back to normal, right away. He kept his enourmous arm out and extended an extra long middle finger to the waiting cameras.
He didnt sleep well, at nights. The flourescent light was always on overhead. When he did sleep he had nightmares, about the penitentary he had come from, or the night he was busted. But on one night he was having a nice dream, about paulita, and he woke up to find himself masturbating. This led to a new discovery, his male organ would stretch like every other part of him.
It was hard for him to maintain it erect, but he managed to stretch his member down past his knees. He took to going around his cell naked, masturbating furiously for the cameras. He attempted to stretch other parts of his body. He stood up straight, even straighter, and his legs popped and clicked until his head brushed the ceiling.
Then came the day his face wasnt right.
There was a small mirror above the sink, stainless steel like the usual prison fare, and in it he could see that his face had sunk. His chin was lower than it used to be, and so was his mouth. His brow was thicker. Worse, the color was wrong. He was only a half breed mexican, so he was used to being light skinned, but this was even worse than that, now he was actually gray hued. Like a corpse. He let out a moan, and the sound was alien to his ears, an "Uhn-guuuawh." Like an animal from an alien world. The worst part was, that there was no pain.
The next day his chow was different. A piece of bloody meat was thrown through the food slot, without a tray. He looked at it in disgust. The guards hadnt given him anything to clean his cell since he arrived. Did they really expect him to eat that? but then something funny happened inside him. The smell of it hit his nostrils and set his mouth salivating. Like the best cheeseburger he had ever had, or a whole plate of steak fajitas. before he knew it he was on all fours snatching the meat and practically inhaling it. When he was done he found that he was licking the floor, and his tongue was a long, ugly thing, a foot at least. When he waved for the cameras it was as if his hand was lacking in any bones at all.

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