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Eugene's StoryEdit

A story about the Gruejor. By Eugene.


1986. It's Saturday night, and I am out with my boys on the town. It's late, almost 3am and while I'm standing at the bar, a wonderful looking African mistress walks up to me and stands on my foot. Sorry she says. I tell her no problem and collect my drink. She then stops me and asks my name. Eugene, I tell her swiftly. April, she replies. I thought to myself, what a beautiful name she has, and as I found myself walking away back to my friends in a seating area, she followed me. So, I don't have a place to stay tonight she whispers in my ear. It was difficult to hear over the loud music, but I did hear it. I knew what was coming next, but I couldn't help the wave of guilt and nerves wash over me still.


We arrived back at my house, left to me by my parents three years ago when they both tragically passed away. I made certain to shut and bolter the basement door, twice I checked it. As the skeleton, so to speak, could not come out of the closet. I heard a low-pitched growl as I slammed it. However, knowing it was locked it calmed me down.


I strolled back to my bedroom, which is directly opposite the basement door, down a long corridor at least thirty steps long. I remember this because, as a child, I'd run to bed and count the steps I needed to take in case I had to run back downstairs to my parents, if I was scared. Once in my bedroom, I discovered April was already in my bed; I knew I was going to get lucky tonight! However, a mere second after walking in, I heard a huge -BANG-


What the fuck was that? She said.
Nothing, just the wind I replied.
She then gave me a look of confusion, knowing full well that it was the middle of summer, and there was no wind that night. Then we heard it again -BANG-


April got up, and slowly went to put her clothes on. She was visibly worried, especially as straight after we both heard a huge growl, paired with the lock on my basement door unhinging. Gruejor was loose.


I pushed open my bedroom door as quickly as I could, and told April to run for her life. The corridor was long, narrow, and there were a few seconds for her to escape the Gruejor and get down the stairs to safety. April started to run, but froze just after my door. It was too late.


The Gruejor slowly shifted over to us, much like a slug, with its huge penis dragging along the floor (flacid) and making a horrible dragging noise. Gruejor was hungry, he was desperate; Foam was dripping from his mouth all over the floor, and the carpet was soon drenched with the stuff. Ooze also dripped from his mouth, in the form of stomach acid, my fault as I hadn't fed Gruejor for six weeks. And finally, pus shooting out from his eyes onto the walls. I had never seen Gruejor so angry and hungry before.


April let out a horrible scream that I remember still to this day, before I heard a churning noise, followed by a splat. I didn't leave my room until morning; Gruejor is not hostile towards me as it is a 'family pet'. When I eventually left, I saw April's clothes outside my door, with a mixture of blood, pus, semen, and stomach bile on them/over the walls. She had not died quickly.


It was only when I went to lock the front door of my house and leave for good when I heard her scream again. Lord knows what Gruejor was doing to her in the basement. I envisioned the cold, damp conditions of the basement, with the 40-something steps that descended into hell pretty much. I locked the front door and turned around. A van had pulled up, completely white. One man got out and approached me, while another sat in the driver seat smoking a cigar.


It's time for you and The Gruejor to come to the Mansion, he said. I blinked and then passed out.

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