's 2018 Horror Write-off:

Turbo Lovers

Submitted by Thomas F. Johnson (email)

The car's headlights illuminate the sign on the metal fence. I exit the car.

The night is black and bone dry. I walk along the fence to the place where the wires are frayed enough to crawl through. I see a few other cars as I do so.

I smell the scent of oil and musk as I push myself through the frayed wires, along with a bit of blood. They are ready and they are stirring.

My heart beats in a steady, manic tempo as the boneyard stretches around, the skeletons of rusting metal and dripping fuel, the behemoth turbines in this liminal jungle of things that once flew stilled and silent. Unless you know what to look for.

I am an epicurean. I can hear the sounds of a mechanism in heat. I see one, softly breathing, gleams of chrome pulsing beneath the chipped rust. If one was untrained, ill-informed, they would mistake it for just another decaying aerial mechanism. But I would not be so crass.

I enter them, and I feel their warmth amidst their pulsing corpus. That wet oily heat, few sensations can surpass it. I make my entrance to the cockpit, and I see the patterned tangles of wire and oil, and a throne of flesh and steel. I enter the throne.

It is enrapturous to see them awaken. I can feel the shudder of metal coming to life, sinuous forms moving and popping to life. I embrace the tendrils of wire and sinew as they enter me, and I feel the oil enter me, enter them. Enter us.

I can feel our sensuous merger of flesh and mechanism. The sleak form of the aerial predator, ascending from crawling like beasts to walking like gods. Our claws are shining, our teeth are sharp, oil drips down our curves both shiny and corroded.

I see others, moving in the distance. I do not know who they are. I do not know what brings them here. All I know is I must kill them. I see them ascend as we do, and I see them shine as we do as I rip into them in the glittered skies.
We scream, we howl, we roar, as we fight and lust and…

Well, consume is such a coarse word for it. It is a thing far more beautiful. Far too beautiful to ever want to stop
Have you ever taken another being’s body into yours? Wrapped their machina into your systems as you eviscerate their tubes and wires and flesh with dazzling talons and let them sink and become as with you? It is exquisite. It is rapturous. It is unknown by others except us, those of us who rip and tear as beasts and gods wrapped by only the wind and our atavism.

When the first dawn-lights come, we know this must end. The metal skeletons drop from their rapture of the air as I descend with grace. They crawl off as we de-merge. They will be back next time. As will I, I think to myself as I am reborn from the mouth of the mechanism, oily and nude.

I walk back to the car. There are none who will see me, and none who will know my pleasures. You may think this may be my shame, my slavery, but it is the one time where life has true meaning.

I hear the singular, final howl as I walk away. Do not judge us for what we do, for you do not understand the truth of it. But, on a night such as this, we invite you. Join us. Join with us. Join with them.