{"id":7754,"date":"2024-10-16T19:24:03","date_gmt":"2024-10-16T19:24:03","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/?p=7754"},"modified":"2024-10-17T09:33:11","modified_gmt":"2024-10-17T09:33:11","slug":"the-murdered-generation","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/2024\/10\/16\/the-murdered-generation\/","title":{"rendered":"The Murdered Generation"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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Illustration: Amr Abbas<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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The Murdered Generation<\/span><\/h2>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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By:\u00a0<\/strong>Stephen K. Pettersson<\/b><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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16\/10\/2024<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\u201cThe Murdered Generation\u201d by Stephen K. Pettersson is the 3rd place winner of the Monsters short story competition, organised by SUM and C\u00e1lice Magazine<\/a>.\u00a0<\/b>This story was also published in the issue #113 of SUM.\u00a0Read the 1st and 2nd place stories here.<\/span><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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It had only been a look\u2014a smile from the mullet-clad stranger across a dancefloor of shoeless drag queens and sweaty men. It was also all Miguel needed.\u00a0<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

He made his way over sticky floors that sent vibrations through his feet while bodies upon bodies surrounded him in a haze of sweat and moving hips. Gloria Gaynor\u2019s voice flooded the nightclub and a wave of jubilation rose from throats wet with liquor. When he finally emerged from the crowd, he saw the stranger’s face painted in ephemeral lights from the disco ball above.<\/p>

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\u201cHey.\u201d<\/p>

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\u201cMy friend said you were staring.\u201d<\/p>

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\u201cWas I? Sorry, I guess.\u201d<\/p>

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Miguel shrugged. \u201cI get it; give me a mirror and I\u2019ll have fun for hours.\u201d<\/p>

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The man chuckled. \u201cYou think much of yourself, don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>

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\u201cSo do you,\u201d Miguel said and gently took the beer from his hand. \u201cThat\u2019s why you stared.\u201d<\/p>

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Miguel walked away, teasing the bottle high in the air. He didn\u2019t look back, knowing the man would follow him as he led them into the cellar and the empty darkroom below. He took the man\u2019s hand as they traversed a labyrinth of cork walls, concrete floors, and dim, red lights that concealed everything and nothing\u2014a seedy refuge for the clubgoer\u2019s carnal desires. Miguel knew the place well, so he guided them deeper into the darkness and stopped only once he found his usual spot in the heart of the darkroom. There, cast in a dance of shadows and red lights, Miguel tasted the beer on the stranger\u2019s tongue, bitter from the bottle but sweet off of him, and drank his fill. He felt the stranger\u2019s hand wander down the small of his back, into the back pocket of his Levi\u2019s, pulling him even closer to press his erection against Miguel\u2019s own. Miguel\u2019s eager hands raced up the man\u2019s torso, removing his shirt and revealing a scattering of dark purple markings that he traced gingerly.<\/p>

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\u201cIt’s nothing,\u201d the stranger said. \u201cJust bruises.\u201d<\/p>

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The man leaned in again but, as he did, a frog-like croak echoed through the darkroom.<\/p>

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\u201cWas that you?\u201d Miguel laughed.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

He found his answer not with the man, but with the shambling abomination that emerged from the shadows and paralyzed him with fear: It was a sickly, gangly creature that looked human only at a glance. Tremors shook its long limbs as it inched its way over the concrete floor, its pale skin covered in orange, pulsating pustules. As it crouched closer, Miguel could see that it didn\u2019t have a face, only a dark maw with neither teeth nor lips from which the croaking came.\u00a0<\/p>

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\u201cWhat the fuck\u2026\u201d Miguel whispered.\u00a0<\/p>

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The creature snapped to a standing position, dropping the facade of feebleness. It tilted its head back until the two men could see into its mouth and let loose a long, guttural note as a bubble of blood formed. The bubble expanded; growing as the creature\u2019s croaking grew louder, grew until it resembled a crimson balloon, until it reached the ceiling, until it\u2014<\/p>

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Pop.<\/p>

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Hot blood splattered Miguel\u2019s face. As if unfettered from a trance, he sprinted towards the emergency exit while his would-be lover ran back into the main hall with the Bloodbeast in a chase. For a brief moment, guilt compelled him to follow until reason prevailed.\u00a0<\/p>

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I need to find people, he convinced himself. I need to find help.<\/p>

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He closed the final distance to the exit, rushed up the stairs, and put the full weight of his body onto the door. He barged through and entered the night\u2019s chilling embrace, tackling the alley\u2019s brick wall to stop his momentum. With a quick left turn, he made it onto the main street as screams of death and terror broke out inside The Matador. Tears burned scores into his bloodied face while he ran, not just for himself but for everyone inside. He made a sharp turn and collided with a young woman, knocking her into her friends.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

\u201cWatch where you\u2019re\u2014\u201d<\/p>

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\u201cPlease, oh thank God, please,\u201d Miguel managed between breaths. \u201cThere\u2019s something\u2026 there\u2019s something at The Matador. It\u2019s still there, or it\u2019s after me, you\u2014\u201d<\/p>

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\u201cFuck, is that blood? Oh my God, that\u2019s blood.\u201d<\/p>

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\u201cYes, but it\u2019s\u2014\u201d<\/p>

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\u201cIt\u2019s on me!\u201d The woman cried, wiping herself furiously with her sleeve.\u00a0<\/p>

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\u201cWhat? No, no, you don\u2019t understand. We need help!\u201d<\/p>

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One of her friends stepped closer, a look of disgust clear on his face. \u201cYou need to move or I\u2019ll crack your skull, faggot.\u201d<\/p>

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Miguel froze. In an instant, the familiar sense of shame and fear replaced whatever relief he may have once felt. He saw the look in the man’s eyes\u2014a look he had known all his life\u2014and obeyed. Slowly, he started moving, forcing his feet forward in fear of what it meant to stop. He left the group behind, the woman\u2019s panic ebbing out until only silence remained. It didn\u2019t last long, however, as the night came alive with a croaking sound that was loud enough to deafen: The Bloodbeast\u2019s hunt had resumed.<\/p>

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He started running, taking turn after turn on dark and empty streets. His legs were numb and only pure willpower drove him forward in search of help and haven. He saw a police station; its illuminated windows like a lighthouse on the street corner. He crossed the desolate road and sprinted up the granite stairs to the glass door, an empty desk, and a framed portrait of President Reagan inside. When the doors didn\u2019t open, he pressed the buzzer once, twice, three times until an officer\u2019s face appeared.<\/p>

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\u201cLet me in,\u201d Miguel pleaded. \u201cThere\u2019s something out here, something\u2026 fuck! Just let me in!\u201d<\/p>

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The man watched him. Close by, he heard the creature\u2019s croaking again, getting nearer by the second.<\/p>

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\u201cI know you can hear me!\u201d Miguel screamed, slamming his palms against the doors until they rattled and his hands felt like needles. \u201cWe need help! I need help! It\u2019s killing us!\u201d<\/p>

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Still, nothing.<\/p>

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\u201cPlease! Help us! We\u2019re dying!\u201d<\/p>

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The look of indifference remained on the officer\u2019s face. He\u2019s not letting me in, Miguel realized with rising nausea. He\u2019s going to let me die, they\u2019re all going to let us die.<\/p>

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He heard his death behind him now, dragging itself across the road. Miguel didn\u2019t look, his eyes remaining instead on his executioner behind the desk. He spat a thick glob of saliva that oozed down the glass, pressed his hands against the doors, and challenged the officer to watch as he died. The croaking got louder, and louder, and louder.\u00a0<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Pop.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cThe Murdered Generation\u201d by Stephen K. Pettersson is the 3rd place winner of the Monsters short story competition, organised by SUM and C\u00e1lice Magazine.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":7756,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[328],"tags":[329,294,330,291,23],"class_list":["post-7754","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-short-story-competition","tag-calice-magazine","tag-creative-writing","tag-monster","tag-short-story","tag-sum","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7754","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7754"}],"version-history":[{"count":43,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7754\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7857,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7754\/revisions\/7857"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/7756"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7754"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7754"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7754"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}