Proving that I had a taste for body horror even as a pre-teen, here is a short (unfinished) story from when I was that age. It is simply titled ‘Nightmare’.
There was something very odd about my dad. Every night, after supper, he went down to the old cellar, and never allowed me or my mum to come and see what he was doing.
One night, he rushed downstairs to the cellar. A moment later, he dashed back up again. “Where’s your rabbit?” said my dad hastily.
“He’s up in my bedroom,” I said, “but what do you want him for?”
“He’s the last ingredient for my experiment,” shouted my dad. Puzzled, I and my mum followed him. We saw him pick up my rabbit.
“You can’t take him,” I said.
“Oh yes I can,” he said, running back down to the cellar.
I was determined to find out what he was doing, and I sprinted down after him. I turned the handle – and saw that it was a huge laboratory. Tubes and containers filled the room, and bloody limbs, heads and legs lay strewn on the floor.
“You’re not allowed in here!” thundered my dad.
I stood my ground, and said firmly, “where is my rabbit?”
“He’s here,” said my dad, holding up a blob of foul red ooze; a rabbit’s head was just visible underneath the disgusting stuff.
“You can’t do that!” I shouted.
“I can,” he said calmly. “It’s simple – all you need is a jellyfish, a rabbit, and blood.”
I was about to go insane; but I decided to hide behind a table to watch him. My dad flung my now hideous rabbit into a machine. It whirred for a moment
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