The Beast of 1977 (Book 1) Chapter 15

By the time the BMW reached its destination the sun had already ducked itself behind the dark clouds
for the evening. A brutally cold, stiff wind blew past the valley in which the driver's brown and white
ranch-style home was located.

The driver pulled the eight-track from out of the deck before tossing it in the backseat. He then got out,
slammed his door behind him and made his way around to the other side. His warm, fidgety hands
could hardly grab a hold of the door's handle. The second he was able to take a hold of the knob he
flung open the door with such a force that it caused Isaac's lifeless body to fall out of the car and onto
the snowy ground.

The driver closed the door and picked the young man up into his burly arms as though he were an
infant. From there, he carried him from the curved driveway and on to the house, a total twenty-two
feet. Somehow, with Isaac in his arms, the man managed to reach into his right pants pocket and pull
out his house key.

The man opened the door, but before even shutting it behind him, he carried Isaac over to a black
leather couch and carefully laid him down, allowing his head to softly hit the pillow at the foot of the
sofa. Then, like the rush of the wind, the driver ran back over, shut the front door and clicked on the
lamp light next to the television before feverishly tearing off his clothes and tossing them to the floor in
reckless abandon.

His soft, multicolored carpet felt squishy and smooth in between his feet as he shuffled across the floor
to a glass table where a Panasonic stereo rested. From underneath there was a small drawer. Before
reaching inside, the driver raced across the floor and retrieved his pants. He rooted around the pockets
until he found his Taser gun. He then went back to the drawer, placed the gun inside and pulled out a
record which he promptly placed on the stereo's turn style. Right beside the stereo was placed a tape
recorder. With one finger the driver hit the record button.



Just like that, Chicago's, 'If you leave me now', began to play on the stereo, filling the entire living room
with Peter Cetera's light, harmonious voice. The man then reached over and began to pull off Isaac's
clothing. From his coat, shirt and tie, all the way down to his Fruit of the Loom underwear and socks.
Once he was through, he raised up and shut all the blinds in the front window before stretching behind
the couch and pulling up a half empty canister of Vaseline. He twisted open the metal container and
with his two right fingers scooped out a glob and proceeded to lubricate Isaac's rectum with the gel.

After he was done, the driver just happened to look up at all the pictures that were placed on the
mantle above the fireplace of a white man that resembled a younger version of himself. His pain
stricken eyes didn't want to even catch a mere glimpse of the man's face. He ducked his head down
and kissed Isaac on the cheek before spreading his butt cheeks and entering. The event lasted no
more than two and a half minutes.

The sweaty, out of breath man slowly pulled out and stood up, jerking from side to side while semen
oozed from his penis and onto the carpet. The song that was playing on the stereo ended right on time.

With sweat lacing his forehead and hairy chest, the gasping man looked back at Isaac's body that was
dangling off of the sofa. There were drops of blood that emanated from the young man's rear.

The man, in all his unbridled nakedness, stepped over and turned off the stereo. He then began to
pace the floor back and forth in the quiet living room, trying his hardest not to look at the young person
that he had brought home with him. It was a cross-like burden that seemed to weigh him down.
Suddenly, he wanted nothing more to do with the individual that was lying helplessly on his brand new
couch. To him, the young man was nothing more than a piece of trash that needed to be discarded and
forgotten. Without warning, Isaac's teetering body fell off the couch and onto the carpet.

With semen still streaming from his penis the man walked over, picked Isaac up and carried him from
the living room to the kitchen. Within the spacious kitchen was a door. With one hand, the man



unlocked the wooden door before opening it wide and throwing Isaac's body down the stairs. The
second he heard him hit the bottom, the man slammed the door shut.

From the basement door he regrettably marched over to a nearby cabinet and took out a sharp knife.
Placed on the counter beside a cookie jar was a blue and white electric knife sharpener. With the flip of
a switch, the machine came to life. With steady precision, the man placed the knife's edge against the
loud contraption and watched with his bare eyes as sparks flew from left to right.

It had never occurred before in times past, his house was newly built, there was never any problem of
sorts with such a thing, but all of the sudden, the lights in the kitchen began to flicker off and on.

The driver, startled only a slight bit, paused for a few moments before resuming his meticulous
sharpening detail.

***

The basement, much like the kitchen, was brightly lit, with four ceiling fans spread out along the
expansive room. Lanced upon the ceiling were sixteen hooks, all of which were supporting sixteen
blood soaked, brown cloth sacks, each one with its own bulge. The cement floor was layered from one
end to the other with blood. It looked as though someone had spilled red paint and didn't bother to
clean up after themselves. The pungent odor of dead, decomposing bodies was akin to an overflowing
sewer on a hot summer's day. Maggots swarmed and feasted on the bloody floor while Isaac's body
laid still, curled up in a ball.

Right above him hung a lonesome young woman who was dangling inside her own special brown, cloth
sack. With a tiny hole that she herself had carved open, she looked down upon Isaac's body in utter
dismay, realizing that with yet another victim added to the lineup, her odds of escaping had all but
shrank.



She held her naked self as tight as she could while resuming her daily regimen of desperate prayer
time, hoping beyond all hope that someone would come and save her from the barrage of collected
death that she was reluctantly gathered amongst. The more she prayed, that was all the longer time
seemed to stretch out for her. Every so often she would take quick glances down at the motionless
body on the floor just to make sure he wasn't moving.

"Dog kcuf," Isaac grunted aloud with his eyes still closed.

The young lady's ears perked up like an attentive dog at what she hoped she had heard. She poked
one eye out of the hole and noticed that Isaac's hands were moving.

"C'mon...c'mon and get up." She gasped with just about every ounce of air inside her lungs.

She watched in fervent exultation as the man's hands slapped the bloody floor all while repeating the
words he was shouting.

"Shh," she strongly whispered, "don't talk too loud or else he'll hear you."

Isaac didn't utter another word, he only rolled over onto his back and opened his eyes. The woman in
the sack saw two eyes, but there was something different. The man's eyes rolled backwards to where
all she could see was nothing but white. His body then turned back over until it was on its hands and
knees.

The man breathed in and out as though he were fighting for air. To the shock of the captive woman
above, Isaac began to growl an unearthly noise. The woman's entire body clinched itself as she
watched the man's arms expand in size.

His legs and feet cracked and extended in length while his fingers scraped across the floor until they
began to bleed. Soon, sharp claws shot out from Isaac's fingernails while thick, black fur protracted



from just about every aperture of his body until there was nothing left but a larger sized, hairy version of
the man.

The woman hung in her sack while her petrified eyes caught way too much of the unspeakable. At first,
she threw it all up to delirium. She had been kidnapped, raped and nearly murdered, both her mind and
eyes could have been playing all sorts of cruel jokes on her at that point.

The young man that at one time she hoped would be her escape, was seemingly gone, what lurked
about on the basement floor was nothing but a mutated former human being.

The woman could still see Isaac's white eyes and what resembled a face, a face that astonishingly
began to stretch outwards into what appeared to be a snout and sharp fangs. The man could be heard
crying out in unbearable pain until his human voice had all but morphed into that of an animal's roar.

She couldn't contain herself a moment more. Not only was she shaking like a leaf, but she was also
urinating at the sight of seeing pointy ears extend up from the beast's head before its once white eyes
drew back to amber.

With her one eye the woman watched as the creature sniffed at the floor. It snarled and licked up spots
of blood until it came upon the warm, wet space below her. On its powerful arms and hind legs it
lurched its way over and smelled before looking up with its shining eyes at the sack. She wanted to
shut off her brain, or at least go into a fit of hysterical blindness.

Just as it seemed as if it were about to attack, the buzzing noise from the floor above captured the
beast's attention. The woman watched as the thing appeared somewhat confounded. Its head turned
from her to the stairs and back again before growling in anger and galloping for the steps. Her eyes
had captured the ungodly; it was time for her ears to take over.



She heard the creature tear through the basement door before letting out a devastating roar. Her captor
didn't seem to even have enough time to let out a simple squeal before being mauled by the thing.

Two things, and only two things she heard, the animal roar and growl, and the crashing of a human
body being tossed from one end of the kitchen to the other. It sounded as if someone were taking a
jackhammer and using it on the floor with as much reckless noise that was taking place. Just for the
briefest of moment's, the young, captive lady actually felt a glint of sorrow for her uncaring captor.

Then, after seemingly endless minutes, the crashing racket stopped. The woman could hear what
sounded like sharp teeth tearing and chomping before another rumble entered the home. To her it
sounded as if an entire door had been knocked down again.

There was a bitter hush. The knife sharpener was still operating, but inside the woman's head was
jarring stillness. She could no longer hear the beast. She couldn't hear roaring or teeth tearing flesh.
There was nothing but hushed silence inside the home, along with a whistling wind that she prayed
would serenade her to sleep that evening.


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