Short of Decay

A/N: Hey guys, this story is an OC submission story. That means you (the reader), are able to submit up to one OC (other character), into the story! My goal is lead an action-packed, humorous, yet gore-filled adventure built around a unique cast of characters I'm hoping you guys are willing to add to! So enough chit chat, below you'll find the rubric for creating an OC. Simply answer the following and PM it to me:

Name (First, Last):

Age:

Physical Appearance (Includes tats, piercings, height,):

Occupation:

Traits (Up to three):

Biggest Strength:

Biggest Weakness:

Religion:

Sexuality (hetero, homo, etc.):

Team Player (Yes or No):

Open to Romance (Yes or No):

Brief Background (2-3 sentences):

A/N: Again, if you wish to submit a character please just PM him/her to me. Keep posted for acceptance, updates, and that sort of thing. In the story's original post, a year ago all ready... I received three OCs. I will be accepting five more! Now let's give you a taste for the story with one of our characters… He's short. Like, really short.

He awoke from his rock-hard bed like always, grumpy and stiff. His back ached, his stubby legs were cramped, and his head throbbed. Such was the daily misery for the small man, for he dealt with this most every morning.

Sitting up in the enormous bed, or at least enormous to him, he began to knead the back of his calves with his knuckles. More often than not he was able to work out the cramps before having to crawl out of bed. The days he couldn't were the worst. Nothing compared to the anguish he faced if he couldn't work out the sharp pains. Walking around the office was excruciating with leg cramps, especially with his condition. A normal person would probably have nowhere near the issue it created for Kyle.

After nearly five minutes of his futile attempt to cure the cramps, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and quite literally, fell to the floor from his bed.

"Son of a bitch," he groaned from the floor. He never intended to flop out of bed in such a way, but with such short limbs it was near impossible to properly leave his sheets.

And so like every morning, Kyle picked himself off the floor and walked across the apartment in his goofy manner. Upon reaching the white wooden counter, he grabbed a chair from the small kitchen table and pulled it against the wood. Kyle then proceeded to climb atop the chair and start the process of making coffee. As the coffee machine set to work on his mug, he climbed back down to the floor and made for the bathroom where a stool awaited him. He ascended the stool and found himself looking at the pathetic excuse of a human being he was.

His mop of auburn hair was tussled from a bad night's sleep, his forehead was still too big, and his blue eyes were still plagued with dark bags underneath. Staring in the mirror, he realized his beard stubble had returned, and was sadly reminded by the glass. . .

. . . That he was a midget.

Dwarfism is the exact, medical term. As such, Kyle preferred being called a dwarf to that of a midget. The word midget felt offensive and derogatory to him. To be frank, he hated the word. Kyle went out of his little way to make sure anyone that called him by it, suffered his mighty dissatisfaction. His neighbor Hubert Hill, was one such person that Kyle often demonstrated his not-so-nice attitude towards.

Brushing his teeth and splashing water at his face from the oversized sink, he soon found himself back in the kitchen where his coffee steamed. Eagerly, he pulled the blue mug from the machine and took a lengthy sip. Lowering it from his lips, he nodded his approval, savoring the taste. For a little man like Kyle, he sure loved his morning coffee. It was safe to say the little man wouldn't function without it.

The dwarf hopped down from the kitchen chair, waddled back into the bland bedroom, and discovered his work clothes lying in a basket. Frowning at the childish-looking suit and tie, he wasted no time yanking on miniature gray khakis. Afterwards he fumbled with a button up shirt, gray suit coat, and maroon tie. All in all, getting dressed for work each morning took Kyle almost ten minutes. His legs were always difficult to pull pants over, his balance was clumsy at best, and his stumpy fingers always struggled with the buttons. Always.

Ready to take on the day at the office, Kyle finished half his mug of coffee before pouring it down the kitchen drain he could hardly reach. The dwarf retrieved a mini-black leather briefcase from his bedroom and marched out into the apartment building's hallway.

Colonial Apartments was a modest downtown apartment complex of about twenty rooms. Its doors were green, its carpet dusty brown, and Kyle's least favorite part, its hallway long. But then again, as Kyle always had to remind himself, to a normal man this hallway would be no longer than any other. To Kyle however, it seemed twice as long. . .

Looking to his right and then his left, he spotted a person hobbling along next to the wall with long gray hair drooping past stooped shoulders. He recognized the old, hunchbacked, Hubert Hill from miles away. The old vulture was drunk most every day, just like many other occupants living under Colonial Apartments' roof. Instead of taking the usual route, Kyle smiled and made his way towards the man dragging himself across the wall.

Passing Mr. Hill's room, he found the door ajar. It was accompanied by a ripe stench, strong enough to make any man scrunch his face and turn away. Kyle was no exception, he set off down the hall after Mr. Hill.

"Mr. Hill! Are you aware your door is open? Or tell me, did one go out and drink too much again? You know. . . I hear that's unhealthy for old men like you. Your liver's going to clog up like a shit-filled toilet and burst one of these days, don't say I didn't warn you." Kyle kept his voice light and cheerful, but was shocked when the old drunk didn't whip around to curse at him. Perhaps I was right all along and the man finally has gone insane, Kyle thought to himself with a grin. "Oh Mr. Hill!"

The man stopped near a doorway, pressing one side of his face against the wall awkwardly. Kyle stopped to stare, it appeared all of Mr. Hill's weight rested against the wall. Beginning to ponder the unusual behavior, the dwarf heard the blaring car horns and sirens for the first time outside. Kyle furrowed his brows and looked to the ceiling as if expecting it to start raining cars. With no such luck, he lowered his gaze down the wall and froze on the spot, his eyes widening.

Slick, dark crimson had been smeared across the chalk-white walls.

Making a face, the dwarf approached, stretched up to swipe a finger across it, and then stuck the finger in his mouth. He sucked his finger clean and removed it from his mouth examining it like a doctor. Blood for sure, he realized, his gaze shooting back down the hall to Mr. Hill who still hadn't moved. His blood?

"Mr. Hill. . . Are you alright?" He called but didn't receive an answer. "Mr. Hill?"

Finally, the old man peeled himself from the wall and turned around to emit a shriek of inhuman proportions. Kyle stared in complete shock at his neighbor. What was left of Hubert Hill's face amounted to a bloodied mess of hanging skin and torn flesh. All one could distinguish from the mess was the old man's crooked nose, one harsh eye, and blood caked lips. The rest of his person was also rather blood soaked, especially his hands. The hallway's lighting made them shine a brilliant red.

"Anddddd. . . He still looks better than me," the dwarf muttered, seconds before Mr. Hill launched into a mad gimp towards him. Kyle frowned, and looked behind him in confusion. Oh wait, if there's no one behind me. . . He's probably coming for. . .

The dwarf jumped into a uncoordinated run back down the apartment hallway, his pursuer rasping behind him. It was all poor Kyle could do to keep from falling as he stumbled his way back towards his apartment, spying another badly wounded person at the other end of the hall.

"What is it with you people getting seriously hurt," he yelled, digging madly in his pocket for the key. He had reached his door but ugly Hubert Hill was just about upon him, clawing with bloodied hands. "AH SHIT!" The dwarf moved backwards just in time for his attacker to fall face first into the ground. Kyle stared in complete bewilderment, his hand still digging fiercely for the key stuck in the deepest bowel of his pocket. At last he tore it free, only to have Mr. Hill crawling towards him on all four limbs.

"Oh god, you're even uglier up close! No wonder your room smelt so terrible this morning," the dwarf exclaimed, backing himself against the door across from his. Mr. Hill wasn't hesitating, his wrinkled, blood stained hand inches from Kyle's face. "Ah, fuck off! You smell funny!" Kyle moved to the right and clumsily raised his briefcase high over his head, only to bring it crashing down over Mr. Hill's.

With a triumphant thud, Mr. Hill smacked the ground. Kyle smiled to himself all to pleased but turned just in time to see the other mutilated person dragging closer. She had been a woman wearing a nice dress, the flesh from her legs and neck missing. Now all that remained were bloody holes, gapping at Kyle like her red lips.

"What the hell is wrong with you people," Kyle demanded, scurrying to his door to shove the key in. He gave the knob a twist and rushed in, peeking through the door just in time to see Mr. Hill rise again, before slamming the door shut. Immediately Kyle pulled the kitchen chair close, ascended and stretched for the door lock. Gritting his teeth he strained his little arm to go higher and higher, desperately trying to reach the latch. Come on you stubborn fool. Come on, she died bringing you into this world now don't waste her sacrifice!

The thought inspired him. He had hold of the lock enough to slide it across the metal, sealing the door shut just as one of his attackers rammed the door, knocking him from the chair to the ground with a bang.

"Yeah, fuck you too," he grumbled, gathering himself off the floor. It was the next bang against the door that made him shove the chair underneath the door's handle to serve as a feeble barricade. He then backed away to stare in awe, wondering what the hell he had missed overnight. Curiosity overpowering his better judgment, Kyle made his way across the apartment bow-legged and goofy as always. Climbing atop his bed, he crawled to the window and took a deep breath. Without another moment's hesitation, he pulled the curtains aside and found his jaw dropping.

". . . Well that's. . . That's peculiar," he heard himself say.