Genre bending #1 – choose a well-known story and make it creepy.
John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars
NOTE: I found myself going a bit mad with this, so for the sake of the challenge, I’ve only posted the first section otherwise I wouldn’t have got it all finished today. I will definitely publish the full thing once it’s completed.
Late in the winter of my seventeenth year, my mother decided I was dangerous.
The virus that had gripped our world had first surfaced a couple of years previous to then and she had done everything in her power to prevent me becoming infected. She had even suggested pulling me out of school, but I had refused to leave. Perhaps if I had listened, I wouldn’t have been bitten by that kid in the cafeteria that day, and my mother’s efforts mightn’t have been all in vain.
Infected victims all succumbed to the virus at different rates, but once they had, there was no predicting what they might do. That’s why, when my mother suggested that I were to be detained at a high security protection facility, I agreed for the sake of her own well-being.
God’s Heart protection facility was structured like a cross, which was ironic considering that the whole damned world had lost its faith in religion by that point. The inhabitants were all at varying degrees of infection. Howls of pain and hunger rattled through the corridors all through the night, stealing all hope of sleep. Isaac – the guy in the cell next to mine – had gone as far as to gauge out his own eyes and eat them for a snack. This had only worsened his situation. The consumption of one’s own flesh had a profound effect on the virus’ nature, quickening the process of internal decay.
On the day Augustus Waters arrived at God’s Heart, it had taken an entire squadron to transport him to his cell, which just so happened to be adjacent to my own. All he did day in, day out was stare at me mercilessly through the bars. It unnerved me to the point where I one day cracked and confronted him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I demanded, my teeth bared.
Seemingly unthreatened by my verbal outbreak, he leaned forwards and pressed his clammy forehead into the bars, allowing an insidious smile to slither across his cracked lips. “Because you look delicious.” His tongue flickered out like a serpent’s as he spoke. “I enjoy tasting delicious people. When I first got infected, I decided not to deny myself the simple pleasures of existence. That’s how I ended up in here.”
There was an uncomfortable silence then as I watched in horror as he broke off his own pinky finger and placed it between his jagged teeth.
“Are you serious?” I hissed as he ground the finger to a pulp inside his mouth and swallowed. “Do you want to end up like Isaac?” I jerked my thumb towards the cell next to mine, where Isaac was repeatedly butting his contorted face against the wall, pausing only to lick up the gore left on its surface.
“It’s a metaphor,” he belched, still smiling that slimy smile. “It’s only detrimental if you digest it.”
He then rammed the last remaining fingers on his right hand down his throat, causing a wave of bile and half digested mush to erupt out of him along with the mangled remnants of the pinky.
To be continued…
By Tyler Turner