One of the creepiest twilight zone episodes also contains one of the most loosely used phrases in the American idiom.  Let's see how many different ways you can think of someone might use this phrase!

The Judge

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Aftermath by Chris Pearson
The world ends in Santa Rosa on September 22 2015… It comes in the form of an earthquake, tearing and destroying one corner of California to the next. When the earth stops shaking and the trees stop swaying all that remains for the survivors of the disaster are the clothes on their backs and what little supply and shelter they can pull from the wrecked heaps of the city. This is the aftermath of the earthquake, a time when all of those still living must ask themselves what their own life is worth, and what’s worth losing their humanity for.

I'm Chris Pearson, a young writer from Northern California. My interests include eating Doritos and watching old Romero movies. That is all.

The Prompt

I'm going to kill you!

The Rules

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07/02/2012 06:35

“I’m going to kill you!” I screamed at the spider, as I quickly looked for anything I could use to mush the guts out of it. First thing I found was a book. Picked it up. Dropped it right on that arachnid. Picked up the book to verify the beast was dead, dead, dead. There was a satisfyingly mushed carcass on the table top. Eight tiny legs mushed straight out. A damp spot surrounding the thorax.

Jean laughed. “Are you scared of spiders?”

“Hell, no!” I belted out. “I just think the best spiders are dead ones.”

“Like the one whose guts are stuck to the side of your book?”

“Yep. Like that one.” I wiped the side of my book on my jeans.

“Now you have spider guts on your jeans.” I couldn’t help but notice the smile she had. And her pale gray eyes. They matched her frosty gray hair so well.

“Yep. Beats havin’ ‘em on my book.” I grinned. “Are you scared of spiders?”

She smiled. “My hero. Saving me from the big, nasty spider.”

I stood up, held my book aloft, “Another damsel in distress, rescued from the foul clutches of an evil arachnid!”

The librarian looked at me, a nasty glare in her eyes. I sat down, and shut up.

“My hero,” Jean whispered, reaching across the table. Placing her hand over mine. She stood, leaned across the table, and gave me a small kiss. I had visions of standing between her and an ocean of vile, evil arachnids, hell bent on carrying my lady off, encased in their webs. Like some giant insect meal for them to feed their families with. The only thing stopping them was me. A book in each hand. Mushing them all to protect my lady love.

“If you see any more spiders, my lady, you have only to point them out, and I shall save you from them.”

322 words.
@LurchMunster

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Robin Abess
07/02/2012 07:35

“I’m going to kill you!”

The words followed Tommy down the hallway, as he scampered out the door with his little brother’s allowance in hand once more. He paused, feeling slightly guilty, when he heard Bobby start to sob, but the guilt quickly was replaced by anger when he heard his younger brother screeching off to find their mother.

“Tattletale,” he muttered darkly, quietly slipping out the front door with his booty.

This scene had repeated itself time and time again. Tommy would offer some bet that his younger brother couldn’t refuse, and when he lost, Bobby would run and tell their mom. Tommy would then have to endure another lecture on being kind to his younger sibling, he would promise to do so, and the next week, the whole thing started over again. Bobby hadn’t had any allowance in weeks, thanks to his older brother’s scheming ways.

Tommy made his way downtown to his favorite store, Ye Olde Junque Shoppe. Mr. Mathers had all kinds of wonderful things to root through. The shopkeeper never minded children coming into his store, even if they didn’t end up buying anything. Tommy was one of his best customers, so he was always especially pleased to see him.

“Hey Tommy,” Mr. Mathers greeted him. “Got something new to show you today.”

The boy eagerly hurried over to where the old man stood, holding a wooden box in his gnarled hands.

“What is it?”

“It’s a ‘Futurerometer’.”

The boy frowned slightly. “What’s it do?”

“Shows your future, from what I understand. Give it a try,” Mr. Mathers offered.

Shrugging, the boy opened the box and took out a contraption made of wires and gears. It had eyepieces on the back, similar to a pair of binoculars. Hesitantly, he held the Futurerometer up to his eyes, and peered through the glass.

Fog rolled in front of his eyes, then everything cleared and he could see his house. By twisting a knob on the side of the machine, he was able to move forward as if he were walking toward the house and then inside. He could see the staircase ahead of him. An old man was tiptoeing down the stairs. Before he could even react, he heard a raspy voice from upstairs.

“I’m going to kill you, Tommy. I mean it this time!”

An older version of Bobby stood at the top of the stairs, and as young Tommy watched, his brother moved to where his older self had stopped his journey. Old Bobby reached out and pushed the other old man as hard as he could, resulting in Old Tommy falling down the stairs. He landed with a hard thump and never moved again.
Blinking and pale, Tommy pulled the Futurerometer away from his eyes, and handed it silently back to Mr. Mathers. Without another word, he rushed home and as soon as he was able, Tommy pushed his brother down the stairs that very night, breaking his neck.

Tattletales never win.

498 words
@Angelique_Rider

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07/02/2012 11:26

Oh. My. Word. That was... I totally didn't see that coming... Wow. Yikes. I guess I should've with the 'talking Tina' Twilight Zone thing, but... Wow. Great job!

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Robin Abess
07/02/2012 11:43

~heh~ Thanks!

07/02/2012 11:45

I was as shocked as Alissa. Very well done!

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Robin Abess
07/02/2012 12:05

Wow...thanks!

07/02/2012 15:02

"I'm going to kill you, and that will make it all better. You’ll see. Then we’ll be together just like we were always meant to be.”

Heath’s voice had going sweet and soothing as if his words could comfort the frightened woman under his hand. Jozsef balled his fists, allowing the energy of his fury to fuel his shift into solidity, and leapt at Heath. He collided with the smaller man, wrenching him off Rain and slamming him to the floor.

Heath rolled with surprising agility and regained his feet, his eyes blazing with madness and hate. Jozsef positioned himself in front of the cot, hoping he had enough energy between his own fury and Rain’s semi-conscious state to hold his solidity and ‘kick Heath’s ass’.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Heath snarled. “She’s mine, you foreign freak!”

“She has never been yours.” Jozsef allowed just enough disdain to curl his lips. “You have pursued her and she has rejected your suit. End this farce and release her.”

“It’s not a farce, it’s true love. I’ve known her longer and she loves me!”

Jozsef’s gut clenched with self-doubt, but he shoved the concern aside and kept his attention focused on the lunatic before him. Heath vibrated with pent up emotion, his eyes wide and his slips pulled back in a rabid grimace.

“It doesn’t matter if she loved you–”

“Loves! Present tense.”

“Do you think this is the way to treat the woman you love?” Jozsef watched Heath carefully, preparing himself for any move the crazy man would make. “You’ve hurt her and tied her down. That is not love!”

“It is! And she knows it. We’ll be together forever and it’ll be perfect.” Heath lunged for Jozsef and Jozsef caught him, throwing them both away from Rain’s body.

They landed hard and Heath tried to shove a plastic handled implement into Jozsef’s gut. Jozsef gasped with pain until he remembered to let go of his solidity. The pain cut short and Heath’s hand slammed into the floor as Jozsef rolled away.

Heath swiped at him again, but his hand and weapon sailed harmlessly through Jozsef’s ethereal body as he spun. Heath jerked his hand back and stopped, his gaze sharpening on Jozsef’s unmarked side.

“You’re fast, but it won’t save you for long.” He panted, the madness in his eyes spilling over into a maniacal grin. “I’m still better than you. She’s mine, asshole, and you’ll never have her.”

Heath charged again and Jozsef’s old warrior skills kicked in. He spun and solidified his hand just enough to crash them into the back of Heath’s head. Heath fell with a surprised grunt, but he didn’t stay down long. Jozsef pivoted as Heath struck at him from behind, watching the man’s hand shoot out his belly. Jozsef swung his elbow back and slammed it into the side of Heath’s head.

“It would be wise to stay down,” Jozsef growled at his prone enemy’s back.

“Kiss my ass, fucker!”

497 #WIP500 words
@SiobhanMuir

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Rebekah Postupak
07/02/2012 19:25

“I’m going to kill you!” His voice was low and calm, but he was trembling with rage.

“Can’t we talk about this, Mark?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He circled the room slowly, picking up and then discarding various objects. A heavy vase of long-dead roses. Faux iron bookends. Sciss—oh, the scissors made her shudder.

“You used to love me. Don’t you remember? The day we married—”

He cursed. “Worst mistake I ever made.”

The scissors now rested in his left hand. He stared at them, mumbling to himself, and brushed his fingers lightly across the blades.

“If not for my sake, then what about the children? Don’t you still love them?” It took every ounce of strength for her not to shriek.

Mark hesitated only briefly before raising a strong arm. “This is because I love them. You. Will. Die.”

He slashed at her slender figure, plunging the scissors into her heart with such force that his body crashed to the floor with the momentum, and he lay there for a long moment, stunned. And then: “I’m going to kill you,” he whispered, fierce anger melting into grief. “I’m going to kill you.” He wept now, as loudly and desperately as he had raged.

The woman knelt sadly beside her husband. Her pale, translucent fingers stroked his back gently, as though soothing a child. “You already did, beloved. But thankfully, once is all you get. Now. Get up. We’re going to do this again until you learn.”

250 words
@postupak

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07/02/2012 20:41

“I’m going to kill you!” Fay lunged at Alan with her heart-shaped dagger.

Blocking with his forearm against hers, Alan pushed back out of range. Damn it! What had she called it? Malevolence. The ability for Devil-built cybers to possess other machines in a sort of cyber-to-cyber mental link.

No sooner had they got the Devil Knight, Phantom, back online than it used Malevolence to take control of Fay. She seemed so human; Alan rarely remembered what she really was. This was not a welcome reminder. Why hadn’t Fay seen it coming though?

“I’ll paint this rock with your blood! And without you to save them, your pathetic race will finally end!” Fay laughed wildly, eyes blank, blade lashing furiously.

They danced around the emergency hangar, years of battle experience only just giving Alan the edge to read her moves and stay ahead of them. He hadn’t drawn a weapon yet. There had to be a way out of this without hurting her. Normally he’d go for the grapple and incapacitation—only the results of the Malevolence also reminded Alan that he was fighting someone who could break personal transports with just her hands.

Phantom’s cold silver form loomed over their battle menacingly. The liquid-metal weapon with limbs like stretched-taffy stood only seven meters in height, nearly two meters less than Fay if she reverted to her true form—and she wasn’t one of the bigger cybers. If he survived, Alan was going to enjoy breaking the pintsized Devil Knight.

“Hold still and maybe I’ll allow you a quick death!” Fay’s eyes widened, but her attack remained the same.

Alan didn’t want to mention it, but if she tried a little harder he wouldn’t stand a chance—even fighting seriously. Wait a minute. Was Fay holding back? She hadn’t activated any of her weapons aside from the heart-blade, and was only attacking with her human speed and strength.

“Thanks, Fay,” Alan grinned.

She was giving him an opening! Turning his back on his petite assailant, the ace pilot bounded up the access to Phantom’s cockpit. Alan hit the close before dropping into the pilot’s seat. Come on! Close!

Fay’s dagger sparked against Phantom’s silver plate, prompting a tortured groan from the foul colossus. Alan was safe inside the evil cyber knight.

“What now, you sonofabitch?” Alan grinned as he locked into the controls.

Outside he could see Fay’s skin changing to pink and white plates as she grew toward her true form. Her black pigtails changed to flight stabilizers the same color and material as the rest of her body. Few cybers were gendered in the first place, and only Fay could assume human form. Only Fay had never had a pilot.

Until he could figure out how to shut Malevolence down, it looked like Alan would have to be the only pilot ever to fly two cybers at once.


480 words
@DavidALudwig

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07/02/2012 21:43

Eternal Bliss
By Lisa McCourt Hollar

“I’m going to kill you.”

“You can try darling, but better women than you have had their chance and failed.”

“Better women than me, in that they had the good sense to leave your ass on the curb, where it belongs.”

“So you’re throwing me out? And who will pay for you expensive shopping habit once I’m gone?”

“I’ve already replaced you, or didn’t you know? You honestly didn’t think I was visiting my dear mother at the hospital?”

“Since your mother died three years before I had the misfortune of falling into your trap…no. But I figured if you were banging someone else, I wasn’t going to complain. Since I have no intention of ever sticking it to you again, you can fuck the entire building. You can fuck the entire city…hell, you can fuck the entire country if you wish.”

“A bit melodramatic, I always liked that about you.”

“I always liked your bowed legs…until I found out how they got that way.”

“Ass.”

“Bitch.”

“Dick.”

“Whore.”

“GET A ROOM!” Stella threw her book at her wall, hoping her parent’s would take the hint. Instead she heard the creaking of bedsprings as they began going at it like rabbits. “God, they’re sick,” she muttered, turning up the volume on her i-pod and shoving the earphones in as deep as she could. Sometimes she really wished they would kill each other. Then she could at least have a normal life. She couldn’t even invite her friends over without one of her rents embarrassing the shit out of her. Last week John had come by and her mother answered the door in her bra. But that wasn’t as horrifying as the time her dad walked into the living room in a speedo. A FUCKING SPEEDO!

A picture fell off the wall and even her i-pod couldn’t drown out the banging on the walls. She imagined the neighbors opening their doors and looking down the hall at their apartment. She knew they’d complained before. The landlord had come by to give them a warning. Stella’s mom told him it wasn’t her fault that the walls were paper thin and took him into the bedroom to show him just how thin they were. Daddy came home early that day and there were threats of murder then too…daddy threatening to murder the landlord. They didn’t have to pay rent the following month.

This time a mirror fell off the wall, shattering on her desk. Stella pulled her hand back, but not before a finger was sliced. “God, I should just murder them myself,” Stella thought, sucking on the blood that began to flow. Her fangs descended and she imagined ripping both of their throats out.

“If only they weren’t already dead. I can’t believe I have to put up with this for eternity.”

Word Count: 470
@jezri1

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07/02/2012 23:19

MOCK AT YOUR OWN PERIL


“I’m going to kill you!”

“Don’t say that, Donatella,” he says, grabbing his big sister’s sleeve and tugging. “Every time you say that a goblin hatches.”

She snatches her arm away from him. “Every time I scold you for messing with my sketch pad you threaten me with goblins, Marty, but I’ve yet to see one.”

He wipes his nose on the back of his hand. “They’re coming for you all right. You’ll see.”

“Just get into your pjs, kid,” she says, opening his bedroom door.

“Mom’s working late again. She says she’ll come kiss you when she gets home.”

He crosses his hands over his chest. “Won’t get changed ‘less you read me a story.”

“You frittered away story time ruining my sketch and back-talking me. I’m not going to let you cut into my study time. That history test tomorrow is a quarter of my grade.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re the worstest sister ever.”

She turns down the bed. “Maybe, but we’re stuck with each other, so we should try to make the best of it.”

“I bet those goblins come for you tonight, Dona,” he says, defiantly climbing onto the bed in his school clothes. “Their teeth are sharp as - - ”

She shuts off the light. “Go to sleep, Marty. Sweet dreams.”

Back in her own room, she sits down at her desk and looks at the image on the paper. Where she’d begun penciling a furry little bunny, Marty had taken a red crayon and drawn in teeth and claws.
Sighing, she crumples the page and throws it into the trash. When she’s done studying, she turns off the lamp and goes to sleep.

Just after midnight, there’s a rustling under the desk and a furry little creature the size of a softball scrambles over the lip of the trash can and drops onto the carpeted floor.

It scales the chenille bedspread with razor sharp claws and scurries up onto Donatella’s pillow, getting so close that her steady exhales ruffle its fur. It makes a little sound in the back of its throat, a sort of squabbled trill and rubs the top of its head against her chin, before hopping off the bed.

Skittering down the hall to Marty’s room, the creature climbs the heavy cotton quilt, rushes the sleeping boy and sinks its sharp teeth into the tender flesh of his cheek. The child wakes, screaming and crying and flailing about.

The creature swells in size, one moment a basketball, the next a beach ball. It pins the boy to the bed, and in a grating growl, says, “Trouble your sister again, boy, or dare to use my kind as an empty threat, and I will feed you to a hoard of hungry hatchlings!”

Long after the creature disappears, Marty lays quivering in his bed, terrified by the creature of his own making, and secretly wishing for the comforting presence of his big sister.


@bullishink / 492 words

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07/03/2012 10:02

Ooooh, I liked it! Great job! I definitely wasn't expecting the ending, but it was very satisfying. :)

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07/03/2012 07:31

“I’m going to kill you!” The knight cried from his chained position by the wall. Icicles hung from the ceiling of the cell. The cold was turning his lips an interesting shade of blueish purple. In that armor, it wouldn’t take long for him to freeze to death.

Frederick paused in turning away, turning his eyes towards the man. “You’ll kill me?” His lips twitched up in a humorless smile. “I’m already dead so that threat is moot.” He turned away, walking down the quiet hallway.

He passed many cells that were empty of living occupants. It had been a while since anyone had come to the tower. It was strange, he just didn’t seem to care that much if anyone did or not. His reason for living was there and that was enough.

He moved through the hallways before entering the open doors of the throne room.

“Has he been restrained?” The voice echoed through the room. It had been quiet for the emptiness of the room, the blues and silvers of the banners still, held in place by the frigid cold. Sculptures of people in mid-motion decorating the floor: dancing, eating or laughing. They would hold the motion for eternity. It was only on closer inspection that the skin under the ice looked ragged, spots where it was starting to give underneath the ice. Eyes that were sunken in the sockets.

He kept walking until he got to the bottom of the steps that lead up and knelt down, picking up the delicate lace that flowed down the steps, kissing the help. “Yes, mistress. And with the usual threats of violence.” He kept his head bowed, eyes on the floor. She didn’t like him looking until she was ready.

“Good.” There was a brief pause. “Come.”

Frederick straightened up and skirting the train as he went up the stairs before kneeling to the left of the throne. He saw her hand resting on the arm, skin smooth and pale. Almost ghost like within the confines of the pale blue dress. Except for the finger nails which were a dark blood red.

She lifted a hand to raise his chin so that she could look at him. “How is the skin fitting? Is there anything I can do to make it better, my sweet?” Black eyes stared down at him, lifeless. The smile that curled her lips fell far short of her eyes.

Even though she made him, she still gazed at him like an insect to be watched and inspected. Her little experiment. “Everything is fine, mistress.”

“Good.” She ran her hand down his chest to rest over the hole in his clothing, the edged stained red that had since crystalized. Her fingers found the ice shard that rested in his skin and tested it, moving it around. “When you are hungry, the knight will make a fair feast for you. The cold will keep him fresh. Give it a few days.”

“Yes, mistress.”


496 words
@solimond

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07/03/2012 09:07

“I’m going to kill you.” I mutter half under my breath.

“That won’t do you much good, now, will it?”

“Of course it will. It will end all this…insanity.” I reply, waving my arms around wildly.

“You like this insanity. You cherish it. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself otherwise. It makes you feel special.”

“No. I would be so much better off without you.” I clench my fist.

“Better off? How so?”

“Well, I would get out of this rotten place, that’s for sure.” I kick the plastic chair as I begin to pace the room.

“You really think they’ll let you out if I’m not around?”

“You’re the reason I’m in here at all!” I scream.

“Maybe. That doesn’t mean they’ll let you out if I’m gone. Trust me. The only way you’re getting out of here is with my help. And I’m working on it, alright?”

“Working on it?” I snort. “What? Are you drawing up escape plans while I sleep? I haven’t seen you working on anything.” I bang my fist on the sink.

“Just calm down. There’s no need to get all worked up.”

“I am calm.” I take a deep breath, “I’ve just decided that I’m going to do it. I’m going to kill you.”

“Really. And how are you going to manage that?”

My eyes shift across the room. “You remember Linda? They say she snapped the leg off her chair and it was sharp enough to do damage. It would be enough.”

“Yeah, I remember Linda. She was a complete loon. I’m surprised they let anyone keep their chairs after that.”

“They took some of them away. Barb lost hers.” I sit on the cot and put my face in my hands.

“Well, Barb has issues. She’s certifiable.”

I laugh, “Yeah? Who isn’t?”

“You know what I mean. She deserves to be in here.”

“And I don’t? I don’t know, Addy, maybe they’re right. Maybe you are a figment of my imagination.”

This time she snorts, “Sorry, but your imagination doesn’t have the ability to make me up. Not all of me. Haven’t I proven to you time and again that I’m real?”

“Then prove it to them! Why am I the only one who sees you? Who hears you?”

“I told you before, I’m—“

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t want to hear it again. Blah, blah, astral projection, blah, blah, focused on me, blah, blah, stuck. I’ve heard it too many times before. Maybe it’s just me trying to convince myself it’s plausible. Doesn’t that mean you’re a ghost? That leaves me the one with the problem.”

“My body is alive! Trust me!”

“I just want to kill you.”

“You can’t kill me! So how--? Oh. But it will end everything, and you know it.”

“Maybe, but at least it will be over.” I sigh, wishing it were over.

“You won’t do it…You can’t.”

“Maybe it will free you, too.”

“Maybe it will kill me.”

“I can hope.”

@lissajean7
500 words

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07/17/2012 09:01

She’d never run so fast in her life. But then again, her life had never been in danger.

Her sneakers squeaked in the school halls and if her side hadn’t exploded into a painful stitch, if she hadn’t been struggling for air, she would have felt nostalgic. She’d come to the school for a few pictures for her blog. She’d planned on writing a piece about moving on or some shit, but instead she’d been accosted by creatures she could only identify as dogs, though they weren’t.

The click of the many sets of claws rang in the halls like the late bell: consistent, piercing.

She burst through the gym’s double doors and nearly cried when she saw an Exit sign glowing in the dimness. Until a hunched form slid in front of the door. She put on the brakes and slid as she tried to stop running straight toward slathering jaws. She spun around and three other beasts blocked the way she’d came.

“Why are you doing this?” she sobbed. “What did I do to you?” There was no answer except a set of snarls and yips.

“Because of me,” a familiar voice said. She turned and saw that the beast that had blocked the exit was gone, replaced by a man. Her ex.

“Jon?” she asked, her head feeling light. “What is going on?” She wanted to scream.

“I’m saving your life,” he said simply.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” she said weakly.

He walked up to her and dropped his arm over her shoulders. “You weren’t ever supposed to. Close your eyes.”

“I’m not doing that,” she snorted, half laugh, half cry. He covered her eyes with his warm hand then. It smelled like ash and sweet, like syrup. There was a flash of light between his fingers and then the snarls abruptly stopped. He moved his hand and they were alone in the gym. “What happened to them?”

“I got rid of them.”

“What the hell were they? What the hell are you?”

“Feel like a drink? This explanation is going to take some time.”

@J_M_Blackman
351

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