u/Few_Army_9521

For my story I want to really focus on how magic and other things draw from the physical and the mental, and what does that best? Body Horror! But I can’t tell if this strikes that cord of body horror or just weird freaky tendrils. Context the excerpt is from a scene where a swat team is raiding the MCs apartment and is making suicidal rush to provide a distraction for a person he only now is he realizing he is falling in love with, but that is for the rest of the plot. Anyway here it is.

“Lynx, if this is the last time I see you, ju-just know that I tried.” I gave him one last huge hug, and he embraced me. Three days, and my entire world had collapsed. But one man stood there and grabbed onto my hand, and that was Lynx. He was also stuck in this shit hole with me too. He felt warm in my hands, the air of sage just as comforting as the first day I met him. I wanted to hold on to him forever and stay in that closet with him tell the world turned to ash. No DMB, no stupid job, and no taxes. Me and Lynx. I slowly moved my head up to his cheek and gave it a kiss. Every ounce of appreciation flowed through my warm lips. This was my thanks for everything, my way of showing him that I felt the same. He wasn’t just a friend, and I knew it. But does it matter, because there was a chance I was going to be dead in the next 10 seconds. That's all I needed. I let go of Lynx, his warmth falling away from me. I rammed my elbow into the closet door and lunged out from the closest, flashlights attached to assault rifles seared into my eyes. A group of soldiers turned to face me. I heard one of them yell the thing I prayed for, FIRE, IT'S HIM!

This was it, this was how I was going to go out. Now this, this I find a bit more honorable. I would die with my chest split apart by a rifle round, my blood cast across my room. I could imagine the crime scene photos now. But I was fine with that, because Lynx would be able to take them by surprise and be able to escape. He would be safe and that’s all that mattered. I waited to feel my skull be ripped apart, my chest caved in by a standard issue AR-15. But as time slowed down around me as the group brought their rifles to bear, the pendant exploded with light. Its runes were projected onto the washed walls. The vines wrapped around me in their tight embrace. Their white light blinded me, the tips of them spiraled in vermilion arteries that seemed to pump with a grotesque excitement as they tightened themselves on my skin. I felt as one snaked its way up my neck. Another crawled up my back, leaching into my spine. I felt my entire body shiver as it burrowed into my flesh. The pain crackled through my bones. It felt as if my skeleton was shifting under skin, pushing against my being, wanting to escape into the ether. Another tendril pushed into my mouth, cool and hard against my tongue. It felt as if a drug was injected into my nervous system, my entire body tensed and felt… Good. I felt as it rushed through my system and felt my jaw lock onto the tendril, and the taste of blood flooding my mouth. I let my teeth dig into it, its crimson fueling me. I could feel the adrenaline course through my mind and it began to bend and twist with the rush. A new tingingling, unnerving pleasure radiated from me. It was sickening, but I wanted more, so much more.

Hey have a character whose mind is being messed with by an artifact and has a nightmare of all of his friends being brutally ripped apart which he later learns he did by the story’s main antagonist.

Here is what I have so far. CW: Blood and Guts

“Missster Reinhart, if you just give me a moment, I could explain…” I had stopped listening to Hebi at this point, and found myself only drawn to the source of the groan. I placed one foot out into the hallway, another glint of movement caught my eye. Something was swinging back and forth as though a wind chime in the wind, peaceful and at ease. I stepped closer, a horrifying curiosity drawing my attention. Squelch, echoed softly from under my heel. Some cool and slick, a shiver running down my spine.

“If you would just give me a moment-” Hebi turned the corner with the lamp, and the picture painted itself in an instant. A chewn up spine hung from the metal beams from the plating. Vines of arteries and veins danced across the vertebrae and trailed to pale lungs that still seemed to be gasping for life, undulating in a sickening beat. The ribs jutted up from the naked chest like that of a dead tree, some cracked, others ripped out with horrifying anger. The arms dangled down from the shoulders, flesh torn to reveal chalk white bone, blood dripping down from the collar bone. A pile of innards hung below the body, glistening with an illustrious shine as the light ran around each horrifying ribbed ring. Then the face, oh the face. I large slash ran from the nape of the neck to the forehead, red chasing every indentation. The jaw locked open in terror, screaming for a shred of mercy. Only one shining blue eye caught my glance, the other a hole into void, and his matted hair now ran with a new red streak. Rei. I stumbled back, the fear catching every muscle, every impulse to run, to crumble before the gory mess. The heavy scent of blood permeated the world in a flash, to the point it was nauseating. I felt uncoordinated, raw, unstable, teetering on the edge of nothing. Rei is dead. Rei is dead. Not only that, murdered. Slaughtered. Torn apart with animal-like instincts.

“Oh, yes, the first example.” Hebi nodded, as though staring at a thought provoking art exhibit. Another exhale pushed out from Rei, as if he was trying to cling on for life. The exposed lungs pushing in and out feebly.

“Z-ee-e.” Gushed out from his mouth, sounding more like a cough than a plea. I turned away, I couldn’t look.

“Misssster Reinhart you are quite squeamish, I thought you would handle this a bit better.” Hebi chuckled, more smoke surrounding his form. I couldn’t do this. What had happened? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING? WHY? WHY? That is when I felt it. I just wanted to run, run away from all of this. This can’t be real. This can’t be real. This can’t be. My feet stumbled forward, weak and uncoordinated. That is when I hit Rei’s lifeless corpse, cold hands painted in warm blood brushed past my head. It covered my cheek. I didn’t care. I wanted out of here. I want away from this coffin, this entrapment. My heart pounding against my chest, thundering against my ribs. I WANTED OUT OF HERE. Every breath one step closer to the hatch, one step closer to fresh air. I nearly tripped over the table in panic, not caring about anything but escape. My arms flailed about in panic. I found the latch and pulled it open, the harsh air biting into me with unexpected forcity. The sky was blotted in pitch black, the flood lights seemingly nowhere to be found. The moon stood high, and stared down with an unspoken malice. Its grey light not finding much but rusted metal and wilted grass. I sprinted down the steps and collapsed in the grass, the blades stabbing into every exposed bit of skin. My hands tore into my arms, replaying every twitch that ran through Rei. Every thin gasp. The way his arms dangled. The ways his nails cut across my cheek. It all happened too fast. WHAT HAD HAPPENED? WHY? Before I could find and answer, a rustle in the grass cut through. A shiver. I didn’t want to look, I didn’t want to see what it could be. It happened again, louder, and distressed. Darkness soon fell over me, something warm dropped onto my temple. Drop. Drop. It was as sharp as the grass around me. Then it fell onto my eyelid. I had no other choice but to look, to clear away the liquid. A groan uttered out that sounded like a machine letting off steam, smelling foul. A shaded figure stood over me, well more dropping over me. Two arms stood by my shoulders, barely holding up their own mass. Another drop fell onto my glass, the crimson spiraling out from its source like a hurricane. Blood.

“Please Missssster Reinhart if you would afford me a moment to speak.” Hebi appeared on the step holding out the lamp, the light cascading down upon me and a figure pinned above me. The first thing I noticed was the jaw, or the lack thereof. A row of stained teeth leached up from scarred tissue and strands of muscle dangled from their ears, swaying gently in the breeze. The tongue stuck out helplessly, trying to find refuge without its lower half. Claw marks tracked down their neck, and led to ribs. Just ribs. Cracked apart and scattered, though they still undulate with a haunting pulse. The side of the chest has been ripped apart by savage teeth. Their breathing was horace and ragged as if trying to breath through a crumbled straw. Their exposed chest heaved again, and again. Then coughed, a splatter of dark blood covered my face with a thick wet slap. A dread of hair fell onto her nose, and I knew who this was. Varna. She stared at me with a visceral anger that made me think she was about to make her eyes pop out of her head. Even without the lower half of her jaw she was still chewing me out with every weak wheeze she pulled through. I looked further up her head, her dreads thick with blood. Her horns were haphazardly sawn through, on jutting up higher than the other like a worn mountain peak, while her other looked to have been just ripped off, exposing her cranium. Blood slowly dripped down her forehead, and fell onto mine.

Does it make you feel on edge or does it feel gratuitous? I want to capture as much horror and vitriol as possible.

Want to see the full story look up “The Pensmen” on Spotify for the audio book.