Category Archives: Stories

My Army Cartoons and comics…

It is amazing to me, that even outside the realm of the army, almost 20 years to the date later, these comics are still being read, and liked. I did them on my own time, mostly when we were out in the “Field” doing our movement exercises, or training how to more efficiently kill someone. It was nothing more than a way for me to be able to pass time, and keep practicing another form of writing, one that I liked, in picture form. Sure the humor is immature, and crude, but it was supposed to be. I was not trying to inject adult mature humor or political satire into my stuff, I just wanted to make people laugh at what I though was funny.

I would often let my friends read what I wrote, and ask their opinions. Mostly it was positive.

So why is it 20 years later I am now making them available to you all to read?

Well, honestly I don’t rightly know. I found my old note books, containing hundreds of stories, either finished or just begun, either comic or word, that I accumulated over the years in the Army. There is some 15 or so of them.

I continued writing and drawing until the day I left the Army, and even to this day I am writing novels and stories based on ideas that seem to haunt me in my head.

I decided simply to start adding them to my blog, and see what people think.

I hope you like them…

Here are some Comic strips I made when I was in Iraq in 2003. It is the story of my wife, two boys our cat Lucky and dog Boo-Boo.

Hope you enjoy them.












Deaths Hand: Chapter 4

John and Jack had ran for what had felt like miles on end. And finally slowed down to a walk when they noticed nothing following them. Less than three blocks away, the lights of the military base illuminated the darkened sky.

“What the fuck just happened?” Jack got out between his breaths.

The weight of the armour, weapons and the ammunition they were carrying felt like it weighed a ton. It had slowed them down while they were running, and it concerned them. They did not want to take it all off, in case the thing returned. It seemed it could help protect them from whatever it was.

Celebration gun shots were ringing off, and tracers were illuminating the night, like small glow worms making their way up an invisible thread at high speeds. The sounds seemed to be coming from everywhere. There would have been no way the guards at the base could have differentiated the shots from them protecting themselves, and all the rest.

John looked behind them, “I have no idea. It came so fast.” Sweat was pouring into his eyes, blurring his vision.

They had just passed the last house on the street. There was only a field now between them, and the security of the base. The field was eerily dark, and whenever a slight wind caught the tall grass, it moved, alerting John’s senses.

They kept moving forward.

Behind them somewhere there was a loud bang, like something hitting one of the buildings. To John it was in slow motion, as he and Jack turned their heads. The slight sense of comfort and security had now completely vanished when they noticed the figure perching on the corner of the roof behind them.

It sat there, illuminated by the single light on the street below it. On its face, a liquid, what John figured to be blood, dripped down to the street below. Its hand gripped the corner of the building, and it was crouched down, looking at the lights of the base. Slowly John saw it turn its attention to them.

John took off running before Jack, who seemed to be again in denial of what it was he was looking at.

Looking back as he ran across the uneven field, looking for footing, he witnessed the beast again leap from the building. in a single leap it covered the space between it and Jack.

Jack had avoided at the last possible moment the creature, who landed on the ground directly beside him. He was raising his rifle to fire upon it.

John was as well, and began firing across his side blindly in the direction of the beast, while he ran forward. Less than 2 blocks left to the seemingly safety of the base.

Tracer flew in the direction of the beast, and jack who was now also firing blindly at the beast, starting to run in the direction of John.

To Johns horror, he watched as the tracer from his rifle started to fly into the body of Jack, who then fell to the ground. The beast was now on its feet, directly behind Jack, moving forward at amazing speed. it grabbed Jack by the arm, and flung the body completely off of the ground, and forty feet into the wall behind them. Jacks body hit with a loud thud, and pieces of wall and jack flew through a hole created from the impact.

The creature kept moving forward at amazing speed.

Less than one block to go. Through the darkness, Johns unsure footing finally failed him, as he stepped into a hole in the ground.

He fell to the ground heavily. His breath shot out of him in a single grunt, as a large stone hit him in the chest.

John rolled onto his back, just in time to see the creature flying, what he thought to be gracefully, directly at him. within a second it was over.


Tim Jackson sat in the guard tower on the Military base watching the tracers from the celebration fire rise into the night sky. In his ears the music of Led Zeppelin’s, When The Levy Breaks blasted through the headphones.

If Tim had turned his attention slightly to his right, he would have just made out a creature ripping one of his fellow soldiers apart in the darkness enshrouded field.


The creature leaped back onto the roof of the building, and started making its way back to the security and comfort of the tall building it had resided in for the last six years.

Up on the roof, in the shade of the small enclosure that stood there, it could survey the city during the day.

The creature knew that the soldiers would send out more, when the bodies were found. but they would not think to blame the creature.

Not since the time the humans referred to as the crusades, had the creature been seen. It had gotten spotted a few times, which had created legends amongst the humans. They called him Vampire, demon, devil or Werewolf. They then told the stories to each other to create fear amongst themselves for fun.

These humans today would blame other people for the deaths of their comrades. Vendetta would ensue, which gave the beast another guise to venture out to feast.

Humans were easy to predict. They thrived on emotions, which made it easy to prey on them.

Up on the roof top, it looked out onto the city that spread out before it. Tomorrow it would feed again. Tomorrow it would relish in the chaos and gore it created.

Tomorrow it would absorb more human souls to feed its immortality.

Deaths Hand: Chapter 3

The beast turned in time from his fresh kill, to notice two of his  prey turning and running down a darkened street side.

He didn’t mind, as he already had their scent in his nose, and will follow up later.

Since as long as the beast could remember, there has been the perfect opportunity for the creature to feast when it needed. Over the course of tens of thousands of years, these creatures that referred to themselves as humans, have been fighting each other for what ever reason they felt important at the time.

Land, women, religion or race. However the beast didn’t care why, but loved the amount of souls it was able to devour in order to extend its existence. Under the guise of war, the beast could hide its feeding. These humans made it so easy. War was the perfect cover.

The beast remembers the time when it had no need to hide in the shadows. It was able to feed as it wished, as the humans worshiped him openly. They would refer to him as PramayA-Gabhasti, which translates to Deaths Hand. They would offer him the souls, and occasionally they would willingly offer themselves to him.

The beast turned to look at the petrified local man who was worshipping ans asking forgiveness from one of the many of the human gods. It reached out with its hand, and it completely engulfed the head of the puny human.

However in the beasts mind, it is the last few thousand years that humans have killed themselves in such quantities that the beast was able to hibernate between sustaining itself. There were people who were referring to themselves as Romans, Celts, Picts, Anglos, Saxons and Germanics who were systematically and without remorse killing each other. A while later there was this amazing thing that the humans called a plague, that helped the beast truly engulf itself with the souls of them.

It then took a thousand year hibernation, to awake in Europe and the humans were killing themselves in numbers that were almost impossible to keep up with. The beast was able to move between places where battles were taking place. Here the beast was able to slowly feast, and witness the horrors that these mortals were putting on each other.

Over the course of the last hundred years, there has been at some point every second of every day, at some place on the planet a war. Where the smell of blood would attract the beast. It would travel to the area where the blood was originating from, and feast itself, providing itself the needed energy to sustain its eternal life.

With the puny humans head in its hand, it looked down the area where the two humans had run. Slowly the beast flexed it’s fingers, it could feel the cartilage of the ears of the human first crack under the pressure it was placing on it.

It could feel the soul of the human slowly slip into the beasts own flesh. There was no need to feed physically on these creatures, it was only a pleasure. the flavour of the flesh, blood and the hardness of their bones actually excited the beast when it snapped in its mouth.

Still harder it flexed, and then came an amazingly loud and pleasurable snap, as the skull of the human fractured in multiple places under the pressure.

Its focus was still upon the two running down the street away from it.

Finally the flesh of the humans head in its hand gave way to allow the now over pressured internal contents to escape their torment. Its blood showered the beast in a joyous rain that stained its own flesh in a colourful cascade of crimson.

It was the exact moment the humans soul was assimilated fully into the beasts body. Deaths Hand was now slightly satisfied. However from the earlier engagement of the human with its weapon, it would need to replenish the souls it took to repair itself.

The humans body fell and slumped to the ground, it was the first time the beast had turned it’s attention from the humans who were under the impression they were escaping. The beast saw how the blood now pooled around the mangled remains of the humans head. It enjoyed the sight of the gore around it that it was responsible for. How easily humans were destroyed. How fragile these creatures were. Yet they have always thought of themselves as superior. Immortal, no matter how close to mortality they were.

These two humans thought they had a chance to be saved, redeemed from the horrors they had witnessed. The horrors that had befallen their friends.

The beast would have fun with these two.

For it knew they were fatally wrong.

Deaths Hand: Chapter 2

The sergeant lay on the ground. His left arm shattered, and multiple puncture wounds in both. Bone fragment and blood leaked onto the asphalt. Dark crimson pools formed under his arms.

‘Why?’ he thought, as the pain became more than he could handle.

Suddenly a shot rang out. The beasts body seemed to explode right above its chest. Blood spattered onto the sergeants face. He started to feel a sense of hope.

Again and again its body sprung holes as bullets penetrated its putrid flesh. It held up its right hand like it was blocking some bright light, when a bullet whizzed by and took its middle finger with it. It’s face seemed to explode as a bullet entered its head and again exit just above it’s left eye.

It was jack, the sergeant figured, opening fire with the Squad Automatic Weapon.

Tracer, and the sound of gunfire filled the crossroads. The tracer disappeared into the creatures chest, then re-appeared as it came out it’s back. This was one of the weirdest things the sergeant could remember seeing. He thought that it looked like extremely fast fireflies buzzing directly at, through and out the back of this… thing.

The fire from Jack didn’t let up until the creature finally fell onto the sergeant limp. Blood and brain matter began pooling on the sergeants chest, and neck.

It was at this moment the sergeant caught his first smell of the beast. It smelled like rotting meat and eggs, which came from its flesh and it’s hair.

Then the sergeant saw it. It’s head, which was split apart from the crown of its head to its neck started slowly healing itself. New flesh was filling the gaps, while its brain started re-forming itself and slowly it’s face began closing the gap.

Bell arrived at the sergeant first and started to pull its foot claws out of his arms. His left arm moved strangely as he removed the last claw, and he noticed it was bent in the middle of the upper arm. Bell knew then it was broken.

“Sarge, your arms broke. This thing did a number on you sarge.” bell said as he reached for the beasts arm.

“Just get this damn thing off of me, goddamn it! Lets get the fuck out of here!” The sergeant yelled as air finally returned to his lungs.

Burch helped the sergeant to his feet, and was assisting him toward the guard shack with Bell.

A rustle behind them made all three come to a sudden stop in their tracks. Slowly all three turned their heads to see the origin of the noise.

The creature stood, it’s back toward them. It grabbed the hem of its leather overcoat and pulled it tight.

Then it turned.

It’s face was still closing the gory hole that had split it’s head into two. Then it was done, it looked as if nothing had happened to it.

“Holy sh…” Bell snapped, but could not finish. The beast sprung into the air filling the gap between them, kicking Bell in the cheek. The sound of bone breaking filled the air between the alleys. Knocked unconscious he fell to the ground like a rag doll.

In the same moment it’s left arm swung around, hitting Burch in the face with his claws, tearing muscle and tendons. His jaw came completely off of his face, spattering the sergeant’s face with new blood and saliva. The gaping hole dripped with gore and mucus. He fell to the street grasping where his lower mandible was once attached. Blood poured from between his fingers, as his tung made a kind of macabre dance in the air.

Jack and John stood helpless. The sergeant took a step backwards, tripping on a curb, landing on his butt.

The creatures eyes seemed to flash as it looked at John and Jack. It then turned its attention back to the sergeant. It’s jaws seemed to unhinge as it bent over towards the sarge. It’s mouth was growing twice its normal size. It made contact with the sergeants neck, as he started to scream and beat at it’s face with his right hand.

It bit down on his neck with a ripping sound. Piercing the carotid artery showering it’s face with fresh blood. The blood also fell like a crimson rain onto the street, and sidewalk. A suckling noise arose from it’s mouth.

The Iraqi man had not moved from his position. He uttered prayers to Allah, while fingering the beads in his fingers. His eyes shone from the sheer size of them, reflecting the light from the single bug encrusted streetlight in the road.

The sergeant went limp in it’s grasp. It released its mouth from his neck, showing the tremendously large wound. Half of his neck was missing. Bone and cartilage protruded from the flesh. His trachea was exposed, and quivered in his death pangs.

Flesh hung from the creatures fangs, dangling as he turned his face to look at the other two on the ground. It ignored Burch, still writhing in pain, and turned it’s attention to Bell, who was just shaking the darkness from his eyes. Recovering fully only to see the shining eyes of the beast mere inches from his face.

Bell screamed.

The scream became muffled as the creature covered his face with it’s mouth. A slow crunching noise, like that of a dog breaking a bone in it’s mouth, permeated the air as it’s teeth broke through his skull and jaw bone. The scream abruptly ended.

When the creatures mouth finally closed and it turned it’s head toward Jack and John, the body that had once been Bell  fell onto the ground. Where his face had once been turned toward the two. The gaping hole, covering his whole face, was nothing more than blood, and bone fragments mixed with teeth, and an eye that was shrinking as the fluid leaked from it.

“Go! Get out of here” John yelled at Jack. They had been staring in horror, paralyzed as it all transpired. Reality never never set into them until Burch lay on the ground, looking at them with tears streaming down his bloody cheeks, still grasping where his lower jaw had once been. Death slowly creeping upon him as the blood pulsed from his arteries.

“Move it, Get the fuck outa here!” He yelled again, grabbing Jacks sleeve, pulling him with. Forgetting the Iraqi driver as they ran down a side street.

Deaths Hand: Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Darkness descended on the city fast. It was almost otherworldly. One by one lights, either gas or electric (for those who had electricity), flickered to life.

Soldiers patrolled the streets, mounted on HUMVEE trucks, or patrolling by foot. Their vehicles belching out black smoke as they passed by side streets. Foot patrol radio’s crackled with life, beeps alerting the radio operators of an incoming transmission. The only audible sound from feet away.

The rifle men had eyes peeled, waiting for movement, their fingers on the triggers of their M-4 carbine rifles, ready to end any trouble that may arise.

They walked toward a vehicular checkpoint operated by an airborne platoon, private John Weaver the first they saw. Beside John stood Specialist jack Avery. They were the security force watching the roadblock set up, which was manned by Sergeant Bill Watson, Private Stewart Burch, and Private Timothy Bell.

John’s M-4, loaded, scanned the buildings and streets. He secured the vehicle inspection point from gunfire, or any other attacks.

The patrol passed, and the soldiers exchanged waves, and a couple small words. Finally the foot soldiers disappeared around a corner continuing their rounds.

Off in the distance gun shots rang out. Automatic fire still in celebration of the coalition forces freeing the city. The tracer of the rounds visible as it streaked into the night sky, and disappeared as the tracer burned out.

John fought the encroaching boredom. During the day, children and adults choked around the checkpoint. Screams of joy, the occasional “Praise Bush” and yells of “Water Mister” came regularly.  Without electricity, water, or money, many people were forced to beg for handouts, whatever and from whomever they could.

Headlights turned a corner, and approached the checkpoint. It was a white and orange taxi which came to a halt in front of Sergeant Watson. He had the driver exit the vehicle, and open the trunk and hood. Private Bell had him step away so that the sergeant could inspect the contents of the car, looking for explosives, illegal weapons or contraband.

John’s attention was pulled to his left, toward a dark alley. He was unsure what he just saw. Man? Animal? It was unclear, but it moved again.

“Sergeant Watson, there’s something in the alley over there.” John said.

“What is it Weaver?” The question came from under a seat where sergeant Watson was currently inspecting.

“Dunno, it’s hard to tell, it’s too dark”

“Put on your night vision goggles, idiot!”

He had forgotten he had them attached to his helmet. He rotated them down and turn them on. When he finally got them focused on the alley, whatever was there was gone.

“Aint shit there, guess I was seeing things” John said to no one in particular.

The driver was starting to mumble something in Arabic.

“Shut him up!” the sergeant said.

John continued to scan the alley, as Jack pulled security to the rear. He manned a M-249 Squad Automatic Weapon, it uses the same size ammunition as the M-4, but it is a fully automatic machine gun. He had a night vision scope attached to it, and was scanning left and right, covering the street to the squads rear.

The sergeant moved to the engine of the car, and was shining a flashlight in the compartment. He had placed the hood between him and Bell, who was guarding the driver.

Off to the sergeants right stood the guard shack that John and Jack occupied. To the sergeants front stood private Burch.

“Uh Sarge…” Burch said.

The driver continued to mumble something, but it was now almost inaudible.

“Bell, I said shut him up!” The sergeant moved his head and flashlight closer to the engine, “What is it Burch?”

“Bigger Problems Sarge” Bell said.

The sergeant lifted up from the engine, and shined the light toward Bell and the driver, blinding them momentarily. Their focus was on something above the guard shack to the sergeants rear.

The sergeant spun, the flashlight streaking a stream of light through the dust filled night sky, and aimed it at the top of the guard shack.

A pair of red eyes, almost human, yet definitely animalistic turned and glowed brightly when they made contact with the light.

The figure on the shack was human, or formerly human. It seemed to be dressed in all black. It was crouched down, left knee and right hand both resting on the sandbags that made up the roof of the shack. It’s hair was long, partially covering it’s face, resting on it’s back and hanging down to it’s chest.

It smiled, teeth sharp, as if they were filed to an almost razor point, yet they were almost an inch long. Saliva dripped from the longest of the teeth.

It then leaped. It was then the sergeant noticed its fingers. Claws tipped each one. They looked sharp, and they were almost as long as the fingers themselves. It flew through the air and drew its hand back as if it was fanning its wings to slow it’s fall, exposing it’s feet forward as it approached the sergeant. Referring to them as feet was the only thing the Sergeant could describe them as.

They were nothing like human feet, rather they were almost like hands in their own right. They too were tipped with massive claws, which as it approached him through the air, were yellowed with dark encrustations on them, like barnacles on the side of a ship, only much longer.

Contact came. It’s feet dug into the sergeants arms as he threw them up to repel the attack. The claws on it’s feet dug into the arms, breaking the skin, causing blood to flow. Blood, sand and desert uniform filled the wounds as the pain flashed into his head. The claws did not stop penetrating until they hit and chipped bone.

More flashes of pain shot thorough the sergeant as the force of the beast propelled him backward, toward the hard asphalt.

His back made contact first, causing his head to shoot backward. His helmet impacted with such force that his chinstrap ripped, launching the helmet off of his head. It skittered to a stop, after bouncing off a curb fifteen feet to his rear.

All the sergeant saw was black and white splotches in front of his eyes, as his brain impacted the inside of his cranial cavity. He forced himself to keep from blacking out from the hit and pain. Images of his family shot through his head. Young Peter’s first birthday. He could still taste the air, filled with the sweetness of cake, candle smoke and his wife’s perfume. He shook his head and regained consciousness around his second heartbeat.

He saw the beast draw back one of it’s clawed hands, then rake it across his chest. He thanked God that the Kevlar vest was mandatory to wear in his unit. The hand retracted after contacting only Kevlar and fabric, some of which dangled from it’s fingers.

The flashlight, which rested on the street within arms reach, revealed the face of the attacker. Definitely human. It’s mouth, and nose were slightly elongated, he thought, to facilitate its enormous teeth.

It turned it’s head and examined it’s claws. Craning it like a dog contemplating a new noise. It returned it’s gaze to the sergeants chest, and smiled. It’s grip on his arms intensified, shattering his left arm. New jolts of pain and adrenalin shot through the sergeants head. He tightly shut his eyes as it happened.

John turned his night vision goggles up just in time to witness the carnage.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” screamed privates Bell and Burch almost in unison.

Jack was just staring, while John was positioning himself to get better aim at it with his rifle.

“It’s fucking the sarge up, Shoot the bastard!” John yelled.

Welcome to mordfilm’s blog spot.

Welcome all to the new mordfilm Blog.

I know what you are thinking. “Oh man. Not another blog! Don’t we have too many already?”

But listen, this blog is to showcase my short stories I have written over the course of the fifteen years I was in the U.S. ARMY.

Almost all of these stories, which I will present weekly, have never been read by others. Some have been read by friends, and fellow soldiers who were interrested in what I was writing all the time. But never before have I made them available for the entire world to read.

So if you are reading this, I again welcome you to my world.

If you are a fan of horror stories, you have reached the right place.

Most of the stories have adult language, and graphic descriptions in them, so I beg you to use discretion when reading.

I will eventually make folders for the family oriented stories, and the horror stories.

This week I am starting off with my favorite story. “Deaths Hand”


Lance M. Goolsby