The following is an original work of horror fiction, inspired by the keyword. Any resemblance to real persons is coincidental.
Chapter One: The Creek’s Secret
Bella Bare had never believed the old stories. Not really. She grew up three miles from Monster Creek, a sluggish, black-water tributary that twisted through the kudzu-choked woods of north Georgia. The locals said something lived in the deep pool beneath Dead Man’s Span—something that had been there before the Cherokee were driven out.
“Don’t go splittin’ the water after dark,” her granddaddy used to warn. “Whatever’s down there don’t like to be disturbed.”
But Richard Mann, her partner of eight years, was a geologist. He didn’t believe in folklore; he believed in sonar readings and sediment cores. When a sinkhole opened up on the Bare family property, exposing a limestone cavern flooded by the creek, Richard saw only a research opportunity.
“Bella, this isn’t a monster. It’s a paleo-sinkhole. There could be Pleistocene fossils—maybe even a new species,” he argued, loading his diving gear into the back of his truck.
Bella felt the cold knot in her stomach that she’d learned to call intuition. “Richard, let the university send a drone.”
He kissed her forehead. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Bare?”
Chapter Two: The Descent
The next morning, they stood at the edge of the sinkhole. The water was the color of strong tea, and it smelled of rotten leaves and ancient minerals. Richard donned his dry suit, clipped on his dive light, and secured a GoPro to his helmet.
“Thirty minutes,” he said. “If I’m not back, pull the line.” Bella Bare -- Richard Mann Split Open by Monster C...
Bella held the rope that fed into his harness. She watched him disappear—first his shoulders, then his helmet, then the last bubble of his regulator. The rope went slack, then taut, then slack again.
Twelve minutes passed. Then fifteen. The GoPro feed on her tablet showed gray swirls and limestone ledges. At 17 minutes, Richard’s voice crackled through the surface comms.
“Bella… there’s a chamber. It’s huge. And there’s something… moving.”
“Get out. Richard, get out now.”
She pulled the rope. It came up easily. Too easily. The end was frayed, cut clean through—not by rock, but by what looked like serrated teeth.
Chapter Three: Split Open by the Monster
Bella didn’t remember deciding to go in. She only remembered the shock of the cold water, the frantic kick of her fins, and the rope leading her toward a widening passage. The dive light cut through the murk, illuminating walls covered in claw marks as wide as her torso.
Then she saw the chamber.
Something rested at the bottom—a creature that defied classification. Part amphibian, part paleolithic predator, it had a lamprey-like mouth ringed with concentric rows of teeth. Its body was the color of soaked bone, and it did not move so much as unfold.
Richard was pinned against the far wall. His dry suit was in ribbons. The monster’s central mouth—a vertical slit running the length of its belly—had opened. And Richard Mann was being pulled into it. Not swallowed whole. Split open. The creature’s inner jaws extended like a second skull, cracking his ribcage outward with a sound like breaking kindling. The following is an original work of horror
Bella screamed into her regulator. Bubbles erupted. The monster’s head turned—if it could be called a head. Dozens of primitive eyes, each one milky and lidless, fixed on her.
She swam. She swam until her lungs burned, until the rope tangled around her leg, until she clawed herself out of the sinkhole and collapsed onto the leaf litter, coughing up creek water and bits of Richard’s wetsuit that had floated to the surface.
Epilogue: What Bella Bare Saw
The official report called it a “drowning accident.” The sinkhole was filled with concrete. Richard Mann’s body was never recovered—only his dive light, found two miles downstream, still flashing a desperate SOS.
Bella Bare never married again. She sold the property and moved to the desert, where the ground is dry and nothing can hide in the water.
But sometimes, when she closes her eyes, she still sees that vertical mouth opening. Still hears the wet, splintering sound of a man being split open by a monster.
And she swears she can feel something watching her from the shower drain.
THE END
According to underground film forums, Bella Bare was supposedly shot in 1982 on Super 8 film in rural Florida by a one-time director named Haskell “Hack” Torrence. The plot, reconstructed from an interview Torrence gave to a now-defunct fanzine Splat! in 1985, went like this:
Bella Bare (real name: unknown) is a late-night radio host who specializes in call-in ghost stories. Richard Mann is her skeptical producer. One night, a caller describes a “Monster C...” – the caller is cut off mid-sentence by static. Investigating the source of the call, Richard travels to an abandoned alligator farm. Inside, he finds not gators, but a bio-engineered creature (referred to in the script as “Clyde”) – a hybrid of crocodile, condor, and corroded machinery. The monster splits Richard open from sternum to pelvis in a single unbroken take. Bella hears his death over the radio. The final shot is her reaching toward the speaker as the monster’s silhouette crosses her window. According to underground film forums, Bella Bare was
The film was screened exactly once – at a drive-in theater in Ocala, Florida, in August 1983. Legend says seven audience members vomited, one had a seizure, and the projectionist destroyed the second reel out of disgust. Only a 45-second trailer survived, featuring the iconic “split open” moment – reportedly achieved with a real pig carcass and a hydraulic claw.
That trailer, if it exists, has never surfaced online.
| Suggested Track | Reason for Pairing | |-----------------|--------------------| | “Turn Me On” – Lane 8 (128 BPM, A‑minor) | Same key, slight tempo lift for an energetic transition. | | “Starlight” – Yotto (124 BPM, A‑minor) | Matching BPM and tonal centre; the atmospheric vibe continues the mood. | | “The Sun” – Dusky (Extended Mix) (124 BPM, C‑major) | Perfect harmonic mix (A‑minor → C‑major) for a bright, uplifting shift. | | “Dreams” – Eli & Fur (122 BPM, G‑minor) | Slight tempo decrease and key change creates a smooth “down‑tempo” wind‑down. |
For decades, collectors of obscure horror ephemera have whispered about a title that seems to have been erased from cinematic history. No poster survives in high resolution. No director’s cut lurks on a dusty VHS in a basement archive. All that remains is a fragmentary title scrawled on a 1970s exploitation film registry: “Bella Bare — Richard Mann Split Open by Monster C...”
The final word is truncated. Depending on whom you ask, the missing letters spell “Creature,” “Crocodile,” “Claw,” or even “Cult.” But what is not in dispute is the visceral power of those few words. They promise nudity (Bella Bare), gore (split open), and a tragic victim (Richard Mann). This article dives deep into the myth, the possible origins, and the enduring horror of a film that may be better off lost.
Without the full title, film scholars and horror fans have proposed several theories:
| Candidate | Rationale | |-----------|-----------| | Monster Clown | Taps into 80s fear of killer clowns (pre-Poltergeist). Split open by a laughing clown’s giant scissors. | | Monster Crocodile | Most logical – Florida setting, alligator farm. “Split open” fits reptile death roll. | | Monster Computer | Early techno-horror. The computer splits Richard open with laser-guided surgical arms. Futurist. | | Monster Cult | A human cult that ritually splits victims. Subverts expectation of a literal beast. | | Monster Cockroach | Absurdist B-movie nightmare. Giant roach splits man open with its mandibles. Campy genius. |
The prevailing fan consensus? Monster Crocodile. Why? Because it grounds the horror in real animal terror, and the alligator farm setting appears in multiple secondhand accounts. However, the C could also stand for “Carp” – a giant mutated fish. Or “Cactus” – a desert monster with serrated spines. The ambiguity is part of the legend’s staying power.
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