The Most Rediculous Horror Story Ever (© Biswapriya Purkayastha)
Page 2 Something scrambled behind me, moving quickly and erratically. I spun round,
the crossbow smoothly in my hands, but it was only a large rat, already diving
for cover. I cursed my own jumpiness. Nerves. The crossbow still raised, I
turned back around. It stood there, hulking above me, its prick ears twitching, its yellowish eyes
gleaming dully. The moonlight shone faintly on the huge yellow teeth. The
muzzle twitched in a snarl. It looked as much like a wolf as a Tyrannosaur
looked like a wall gecko. This wasn’t fair. I’d expected a vampire. This wasn’t
fair at all. I had never fought a werewolf before, but I knew what to do. Even before it
could gather itself to spring, I’d dropped the crossbow and drawn the revolver
with the special bullets. I splayed my legs in the approved combat
stance, raised the revolver, eased back the hammer and pulled the trigger all
in one smooth, well-practised motion. The gun boomed in my hand and the heavy
silver bullet sped through the air and knocked the werewolf head over heels across
the moonlit square, already convulsing in its final death-throes. Correction. That is what ought to have happened. What happened was that
the werewolf batted away the silver bullet and laughed. Have you ever heard a
werewolf laugh? I don’t recommend the experience. "You’re supposed to be dead!" I gasped, when the werewolf had finally stopped
shaking with laughter. "That was a silver bullet!" "Silver? That wasn’t silver," said the werewolf, laughing again. "That was
silver alloyed with this and that, copper and tin and whatnot. You need a
hundred percent silver, my girl. Even an impurity of point zero zero one
percent won’t do." He looked at me, grinning, his huge carnassials gleaming
yellowly. "You doubt me? Go ahead and shoot me again." I did. I fired all the remaining five chambers, right into his chest. He
watched with interest as the bullets bounced off in all directions. One came
screaming back at me and almost parted my hair. "Satisfied?" he mocked when my bullets were exhausted. "You can try that
crossbow and stake as well, if you want. But even you ought to know that
staking works for vampires, not werewolves. And I’m not going to shrivel away
in a wisp of smoke if you use those grenades of yours, either." "So," I said, dropping the gun, "tell me what can kill you, because I’m not
leaving without your pelt to use as a fur coat." Nobody can say I can’t do
bravado when I want to. "Do you really think my pelt will do for a fur coat?" he asked, looking down at
himself thoughtfully. "I might be a bit...clumpy." I was forced to agree. His
fur grew in unlovely gingery-grey clumps separated by pinkish-purple bare skin.
His neck was covered by a frizzled yellowish mane. He looked horrible.
"Anyway," he said, "to answer your question, it’s impossible. You can’t kill
me. Go ahead and try." I tried. With the frenzy of utter desperation, I tried. I fired the crossbow at
him, and my patented vampire-killing stake shattered uselessly on his chest. I
threw my solar grenades at him; they sputtered down to a glow and died.
Finally, I took my knife from my boot and went for him. He didn’t even dodge;
the knife blade bent like a strip of tinfoil on his chest. "Now," he said, when I stood before him, trembling and panting, "if you’ve
quite finished throwing your tantrum, we have business to attend to." And he
reached for me, his mouth open wide to bite off my head. "Garlic-flavoured
too," he said. "My favourite." "Wait!" I shouted. "Let’s talk this over a minute." "Talk?" he said, surprised, his saliva drooling all over me, "what do you want
to talk about?" "I, uh..." I thought frantically what to say next. It’s not the best of
positions for thought, when you’re dangling in a werewolf’s claws, your feet
off the ground and your head about to be bitten off like a popsicle. "I, um,"
and inspiration struck, "always wanted to know what a werewolf’s life was like.
I never actually met one before, you see." "Obviously not," he sneered, "seeing how amateurishly you tried to kill me." He
put me down. "I’ll tell you," he said, "but remember that I’ll still eat you
afterwards. If you think you’re getting out of this, you’re mistaken." [ Continue to page 3 ] |