The house creaked and moaned around Raecien and Michael, sharing a look, for the moment. The giant wolf's muscles were still tense as they could physically be, straining against the commands that the skinny vampire had given him. No matter how much he pushed and wished, thought, and searched his memory for a loophole or a way out, it was all futile. He was a prisoner. Michael patted his chest with reassurance, trying, he guessed, to comfort him, then walked away, admiring the decaying house.
"Do you know why I chose this place, Master Raecien?" Michael knew the wolf couldn't answer, but he wanted to be somewhat polite before he delved into the history of the rickety structure that was on it's last legs. "It's where a nest of ferals lived, not too long ago. Well. About a hundred years ago. Despicable lot, those things were." The vampire with the purple eyes walked slowly, studying his surroundings like he was back in the past, witnessing the alabaster paint splattered with red sprays, again.
Raecien listened closely, the members of the House of Tor never told a story without a point, he watched the vampire study and walk slowly, each step measured. "It was one of the few times, in our long history, that our kind agreed on something. The feral vampires that lived here were feasting on little girls, not stopping at draining them, but consuming their flesh, as well. Most of the victims were from the elementary school down the street, just trying to make their way home. If you smell carefully you can actually pick up the traces of blood that are still stained deep in the wood."
The frozen Lycan did just that, inhaling and finding the smell atrocious, and he couldn't wait to forget it. Michael continued, making his way back to his audience, "There were more than we had anticipated, you know. Lost two wolves and five vampires. The battle was quick and nasty, and they suffered. The ferals, that is, not our kind. After all was said and done; we worked together to eliminate a threat to the innocent." Raecien hadn't noticed that he was eye to eye with the vampire, peering deeply into those endless purple eyes.
A bead of cold sweat ran down the wolf's neck, he felt the chill touch his very bones, staring into those violently beautiful eyes. The vampire smiled, "Now we do the same, Master Raecien. We will wage war against the monsters snatching away the lives of the innocent, feasting on their flesh for their own selfish gains. We will destroy them. Rend their flesh from bone. Spill their blood upon the mantles of the privileged. We will walk our path under the burning flag of revenge."
Each word made images flash through the mind of the Lycan, each one more graphically violent than the last, bodies, puddles and pools of blood, gaping mouths, eyes so open they tore at the creases, skin ripped open, exposed muscle. As a Werewolf he was supposed to be numb to these images, but they made something in him cringe, stir, and want to look away. It was the vampire's voice that came through the fog, commanding him, again. "You may move freely. You may not attack me. You must not let harm come to me, either through action or inaction. You may speak your mind to me, but to others you are silent. And you will kill whomever I say."
Raecien felt his whole body relax, his wounds had healed, his mind was much clearer, "You will fail, Michael. This is my own free thought on whatever it is you're planning." The vampire was looking away, watching the sun cast it's last golden rays through the clouds hanging on the horizon, smiling. "I only serve you because you've enslaved me, but I will try my best to find a way to escape this power, you can bet your throat on it." A deep, rumbling growl, made the very air vibrate with it's volume. The wolf was getting very tired of being ignored. Though he could not attack, he could spin his words into venom. As he thought of an insult that might make the blood sucker's temper rise he was interrupted by quiet words.
"Oh, Master Raecien. You weren't enslaved. They sent you to me. To see if the rumors were true. To see if I really was of the House of Tor. You were merely a guinea pig, sir. See for yourself." The Lycan's long stride took him to the door quickly, just in time to watch men, dressed in black gear emblazoned with the patch of the Lycans, holding binoculars, walk away, smiling. Raecien was struck speechless, his bearded jaw hung loose, his brow brunched in confusion. He was so confused he didn't notice the flash of the barrel from a few roofs down, nor did he feel the impact of the bullet.
He looked down, expecting to see a gaping, bleeding wound. Instead, he saw Michael's hand, bleeding, the silver bullet pierced through it, the tip of the slug showing out the back. The two met eyes and Michael spoke again, "And it seems they didn't want you to live through the ordeal, Master Raecien, Keeper of the Word." The Lycan went to a knee, feeling his world crumble around him. After a few minutes it was his turn to speak, "I will help you, Michael of the House of Tor.....Master."
Showing posts with label feast. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feast. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
The Burnt World: Part Two (Original Short)
Even with sunglasses on Job had to sometimes shield his eyes from the harsh sun above and the even harsher winds that blew across the sand laden landscape that he was walking through. Above him the sky was turning a dark purple and the horizon still shone white with a heavy tint of yellow at the edges, the clouds above crackled with blue lightning and thunder that shook the very earth beneath his feet. He'd been walking for two days since his run in with the three cannibals. He hadn't stopped. He didn't think he could.
The road before him must have been a freeway when the world was still alive. Sand had blown away in several spots, revealing the pavement and even a little bit of paint every now and then. The black pillar of smoke still rose off in the distance, his destination. Through waves of heat that danced up from the floor he could see creatures off in the distance, dark silhouettes that seemed to be twisted physically past anything he'd recognize. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, but he was still too leery to try and take anything down, despite his new collection of knives.
There was no way to tell time, but Job knew that the day was waning. As he continued a billboard confirmed that the road beneath his feet was a highway. It was metal and bent in half from the winds, solid for the most part, but the writing had worn off except for a letter or two. With all the weathering the sign had been shaped into a pseudo cave. Behind the sign he studied loomed clouds that were pouring rain out on the horizon, but heading for him. The sign would provide adequate shelter for the storm. It seemed that nature chose for him to rest, after all.
With a great amount of caution Job approached the edge of the structure that stuck over the edge of the road. 'No impulses, this time.' he thought to himself as he thoroughly checked for booby traps and any kind of pitfalls. After a few minutes more than he thought were necessary the search was complete and all was safe. As quietly as possible a bed and a trap for the only way in was quickly put into place. Job considered a fire, but then reconsidered when true darkness fell and things began crawling out from hidden crevices and places safe from the rays of the sun.
Though night had fallen and the world was near pitch black the lightning that never seemed to stop lit the landscape rather well. Outside Job could see the things that crept in the night. Insects close to four feet tall, four legs on it's back end, two large ones on the front, skin as pale as the sand. Each one clicked and brayed as they combed over the soil, their mouths looked like the mouth of a bass lined large, white, sharp teeth. There were about a dozen, maybe more, littered across the highway, the closest to him less than thirty feet away. Job watched closely as the thing found his faint footsteps with it's eight eyes.
Silently a knife was pulled from a cloth sheath, ready for what may come. It kept sniffing, braying and chittering as it followed the path to the bent sign he was hidden in. His eyes went as wide as they could, trying to let more light in to better judge the distance between him and the creature. Ice was running through his veins, muscles hard and ready, panic trying to creep into the back of his mind as the thing raised it's terrible snout at the very spot he was at. 'This is it. Fight for your life.' Job thought as the creature opened it's double hinged jaw to spoil his hiding spot. As it's grotesque sides inflated with air to sound the alarm a long, black, slimy tentacle speared it.
The appendage descended from above, thick as a man's waist, covered in what seemed to be mucus, and black as the night, except for the bioluminescent strings of purple and blue light pulsating just beneath the glossy surface. Job's eyes didn't close a bit as the thing screamed and writhed at the end of the terrible spike. The sound caused the rest of the smaller monstrosities to flee. Job was at least grateful for that. With as little movement as he could he crept to the opening and traced the ascending one that had been caught.
Up and up and up his head tilted, following the inevitability. Four long, giant legs with knees that bent like an ostrich's hoisted a body that was also black save for the bioluminescence. It was hard to discern the creature from the sky, but the pulsing lights made it at least possible. The body looked like a gigantic fish with no tail, the mouth made of four muscular flaps that opened up to reveal a row of shark like teeth which proceeded to bite the thing it had captured in half once, spilling purple blood everywhere. Again it bit down, leaving only part of the head and jaws to be discarded as another tentacle zipped down after the fleeing horde to get another.
The slimy tendrils seemed to come from an orifice just beneath the thing's mouth, seven in all. The giant walked slowly, covering massive ground, the thick body swaying some forty feet in the air as it went. It trumpeted a triumphant blast, that sounded like a foghorn, as it scooped another piece of prey, the sound so loud Job had to cover his ears. All the things gone, for now, he slid back into his makeshift cave, panic replaced with genuine fear. 'Dear God what has the world become?' he thought to himself as his eyes closed slowly.
Unsure of the time that had passed Job opened his eyes to the pitter of rain on his cave roof. Ache still resided in him from walking and not eating, but he forced his burning orbs open as the rain moved past the mouth of his shelter. A fantastic opportunity had been afforded to him, he thought, as he grabbed an empty water bottle and began to crawl towards the falling water. He paused when he saw the droplets begin to hit the severed head of the creature that had spotted him. Another crushing feeling as his heart sank lower and lower as he watched.
The light brown skin and shell began to bubble and boil with each drop, in a matter of a minute or two the first layer sloughed off, smoldering to nothing in a small pool. Next the muscle beneath, following suit, as it smoked and roiled, then fell off or dissolved completely. The bone lasted the longest, after all the soft tissue had been washed and burned away, it soon would smoke and eventually pool into marrow and bits in the acid rain. 'No wonder there are no bones out there.' Job thought to himself as he resumed sleeping.
Heat made sleep impossible and a few hours later Job was on the move again. The sun shone harsh and the winds were dry again, as if the rain had never happened. Not being able to collect water made him wonder where the water he'd gotten from those cannibals had come from. Deciding not to worry about it he concentrated on moving towards that pillar of smoke off in the distance. He wasn't a scientist, but he tried to use logic to try and figure out what animals those things had come from. It helped pass the time.
Walking seemed to be the best way to cover ground, not too fast, not too slow, and at a pace where he didn't get thirsty. Though hunger was now an issue. In his pack he had a couple of cans with no labels, he was unsure of the contents and was hoping to save them for emergencies, but he was hungry now. The end of the freeway he was walking on presented itself, and an opportunity to rest in the underpass of the broken structure. It looked like he had hit an overpass and another highway lie beneath it. A line of skeletal cars stretched for a while in each direction, all abandoned, all rusted to near nothing.
Using a knife he cut open a can, smelling the contents. Job's face twisted as the aroma of what smelled like dog food assaulted him. It took a minute, but he decided it was better than nothing. To avoid a gag reflex he finished it quickly, cleaning the can and putting it back in his pack for further uses. About to give up his shaded spot to continue his journey he saw something he didn't expect: other people. They didn't seem to have seen him as they continued to walk right past his spot. The concrete between him and them, in a pile and rubble, had given him a vantage point.
It was a man and a woman, both dressed in tattered rags, each had a bag slung over their shoulders. Job stayed low and watched them, looking for weapons of any kind. The people moved slow and checked the cars for any supplies. A knife slipped it's sheath and was ready for anything that may come Job's way. It never did. Movement and screaming erupted in the valley he sat above, followed soon by violence.
The people were ambushed by four men brandishing clubs made from various materials, dressed in nothing but strips of clothing like native americans, and all four grotesquely misshapen and mutated in one form or another. They descended on the couple like a pack of dogs, whooping and crying at their new found prey. The two tried to flee, but it was too late, their pursuers moved way too fast. The male had his head bashed in and his clothing stripped away by two of the pack. The woman was not as lucky.
The other two of the pack tackled her to the floor and ripped off her rags, exposing her lightly tanned skin and healthy body, then she was held down. She pleaded with them, right up until the moment they began to bite at her flesh, ripping and tearing chunks away. Pleas became screams. Screams became strangled choking and gagging sounds as they tore open her abdomen, pulling out things to eat. Job couldn't look away from the carnage. Blood flowed from her mouth as she still tried to form words, but only made wet gurgles of pain. Her brown eyes locked with Job's for a moment. He watched the life leave them.
Job stayed a long while, as long as it took, for the cannibals to strip the woman's body down to nearly the bone. He stayed as still as the rocks that hid him, his eyes glued to the travesty that had happened right in front of him. The four left, laughing and wiping their mouths, tied the male up and dragged him along. One final look confirmed the man was still alive. There was nothing to be done. He was sure they were gone, but Job waited a bit longer. The climb down the small pieces of concrete was easy. He walked between the still cars, to the clearing where the woman's remains were.
He knelt and said a prayer for her, wishing her soul an easy journey into the next life. The want to search the cars was gone, the want to stay was gone, now he just wanted answers. The thoughts came like a torrent. If he'd known what would have happened to the world or what he would have woken up to he would have never volunteered for the program. He was only a convict by name. Court marshalled for killing killers that wore the same uniform as him. 'You don't have to be executed. We can make you part of the Cryo program.' they told him. He cursed their names. He'd sleep for 80 years and be reawakened and reintroduced into society. If the process was successful.
What went wrong? How long was he asleep? Why only now did he wake up? What happened to the world? His head swam with all the things that needed answering. Some noise nagged at him from the outside world. A clicking type noise. He couldn't be bothered with it right now. It persisted. Click click click click. The hiss is what brought him out of his thoughts. His body stopped and straightened, his head whipped left and right trying to find what made the noise. He found it. To his left, in the sand, and just a few feet away.
It looked like a centipede, but near twelve feet long, a deep red body with black spikes protruding randomly, eight black eyes, and long pincers coated with venom. It stood the first portion of it's body straight up, already the size of Job's six foot body. It hissed again and he slowly started to back away, moving in a deliberate retreat. Another hiss and he sped his retreat. Job guessed it wasn't satisfied as it gave chase. He ran towards the black smoke, hoping it would be another person, even cannibals would be acceptable at this point. Clicks and hisses from the angry insect were right behind him.
The pavement beneath his feet ended somewhere underground and now there was nothing but soft sand, which made running harder for him, but not his pursuer. It was gaining. Quickly. Options sped through Job's mind, all of them ended in his death. His legs pushed harder as he dared not look back, but let fear fuel him. Ahead of him, in the sand, was a sinkhole about six or so feet across. A plan formed quickly. He bee lined straight for it, hoping it would trip the creature up enough to let him escape. He was struck in the back, his pack absorbing whatever damage had been dealt. At the edge of the hole in the sand he leapt.
He rolled with his landing, but the sand was too soft for him to recover. He drew a knife and flipped onto his back, ready for the giant thing to descend upon him. Half it's body made it over the sinkhole, then it stopped dead in it's tracks and started screeching in pain as it suddenly folded in half. Something was living beneath the sand and was now making a meal of the insect chasing him. It's sharp claws dug at the sand, trying to get away, but to no avail. A plume of soft sand shot up as it got pulled further down into the sinkhole. Then another. It disappeared and the shrieking stopped.
Job panted for a moment, catching his breath and laying very still, watching the place where the centipede had been taken. Whatever lived beneath the sand was happy for now, he guessed. Cautiously he got up and moved further away. As he wiped sweat from his brow he began to wonder where the black smoke was coming from, but his question was answered before it was finished. Just ahead of him sat a church. A full, intact, church. It had it's bell, it's doors, and a fence around it meant to keep out invaders.
Black smoke came from the small apartment's chimney attached to the side of the structure in a steady pace. The fence looked to be made of sticks, barbed wire, razor wire, and whatever else might fit. Job didn't sheath his knife as he called out, taking a very big risk. "Hello?" It was a while coming, but someone responded, "Hello!" A man stumbled out of the doors, a cane in hand, sunglasses on, and clothed like a priest. His skin seemed normal, save for the left side of his face that looked like he'd been in a fire. The man looked around, craning his neck to listen better, his white, stringy hair waving around as he did. He appeared to be in his late sixties.
"Hello?" The man called again. He was blind. "Hello." Job responded. "Who is that? Who are you? I've not heard your voice before." The old man looked nervous and clutched his cane, ready to defend himself. "I'm not from here. My name is Job. I...I don't know where I am." Though the man approached, Job stayed very still. "Job? Like the Book of Job in the bible? Oh, good fortune. Oh, good fortune, indeed. What are you doing back here?" he asked as he hobbled forwards. "I've been travelling for a few days from back that way. I was following your smoke from your chimney."
The man looked very confused, "Back that way? That's the nethers, my good boy. There's nothing out there but death and fall out." Job looked over his shoulder and nodded, "Yeah. Tell me about it. Look. I woke up a few days ago in a facility a while back that way. I don't understand what's happened. Can you help me?" Suspicion creased the brow of the blind man and after a moment he spoke, "My name is Jebidiah. You'd best come inside if you're to learn, my son." Job thanked him and ducked through the fence, managing to dodge all the sharp metal.
The church was empty, save for a few pews made of rotted and rotting wood, a giant cross, and a few shelves with candles burning on them. Job sheathed the knife he had in his hand and followed Jebidiah to a pew at the front of the church. "Sit, my boy, sit. Tell me your tale." Job complied and did just that, explaining his military career, his imprisonment, and the things he'd seen. Jebidiah sat still, listening intently and carefully, only asking a question when he didn't understand something. After Job was done there was a long silence, which he broke, "What happened, Jebidiah?"
The priest nodded and sighed before he began, "Two hundred and thirty years ago there was a great war. The last great war. Not for politics, or land, or oil, or any other reason that had plagued mankind back then, but for religion. The economy had fallen to shambles and people sought answers, so they turned naturally to their churches. Each one claimed to know, claimed that they would fix all, claimed all would be well. Soon so many factions turned into just three. Christianity, Catholicism, and Trinidites. The Trinidites were a new church, founded by those with money and power, seeking to reclaim their throne atop the world. It didn't work. They all went to war."
"Holy money funded new weapons, new forms of killing, and in the end, the final weapon. The Christians wielded it, claiming to save mankind from itself. The thing was a double edged sword in the guise of a series of bombs dropped from orbit. 'Michael's Wrath', they called it. The first series of bombs were high impact EMP's, destroying all electronics. The second series....well." He sighed deeply before going on. "They were the real wrath. Hydrogen by design, but in the end nothing more than napalm fueled by nuclear power. They scorched the earth. Burnt it." Job sat back in a cold sweat, taking in the brief history of life after he'd been frozen. He felt sick and dizzy, lost and abandoned, speechless.
"I need to lie down. Is that okay?" was all Job could manage. "Lie down, son, lie down. You're safe here." Job stretched out on the pew as Jebidiah got up, but had to ask one last question, "Jebidiah, if the church did that why would you build one?" The old priest stopped and turned around with a gentle smile, "This isn't a church of God, son, it's a church of mankind. God and his followers promised us all would be well, all those years ago. It ruined us. Mankind had to build itself back up, find faith in something else. And because of them...all did not end well. Despite their attempts. All did not end well." Job was almost asleep as the priest left the room, but he had to repeat those words once more, they felt like the truth of his entire situation was distilled down to them, "All did not end well..."
The road before him must have been a freeway when the world was still alive. Sand had blown away in several spots, revealing the pavement and even a little bit of paint every now and then. The black pillar of smoke still rose off in the distance, his destination. Through waves of heat that danced up from the floor he could see creatures off in the distance, dark silhouettes that seemed to be twisted physically past anything he'd recognize. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, but he was still too leery to try and take anything down, despite his new collection of knives.
There was no way to tell time, but Job knew that the day was waning. As he continued a billboard confirmed that the road beneath his feet was a highway. It was metal and bent in half from the winds, solid for the most part, but the writing had worn off except for a letter or two. With all the weathering the sign had been shaped into a pseudo cave. Behind the sign he studied loomed clouds that were pouring rain out on the horizon, but heading for him. The sign would provide adequate shelter for the storm. It seemed that nature chose for him to rest, after all.
With a great amount of caution Job approached the edge of the structure that stuck over the edge of the road. 'No impulses, this time.' he thought to himself as he thoroughly checked for booby traps and any kind of pitfalls. After a few minutes more than he thought were necessary the search was complete and all was safe. As quietly as possible a bed and a trap for the only way in was quickly put into place. Job considered a fire, but then reconsidered when true darkness fell and things began crawling out from hidden crevices and places safe from the rays of the sun.
Though night had fallen and the world was near pitch black the lightning that never seemed to stop lit the landscape rather well. Outside Job could see the things that crept in the night. Insects close to four feet tall, four legs on it's back end, two large ones on the front, skin as pale as the sand. Each one clicked and brayed as they combed over the soil, their mouths looked like the mouth of a bass lined large, white, sharp teeth. There were about a dozen, maybe more, littered across the highway, the closest to him less than thirty feet away. Job watched closely as the thing found his faint footsteps with it's eight eyes.
Silently a knife was pulled from a cloth sheath, ready for what may come. It kept sniffing, braying and chittering as it followed the path to the bent sign he was hidden in. His eyes went as wide as they could, trying to let more light in to better judge the distance between him and the creature. Ice was running through his veins, muscles hard and ready, panic trying to creep into the back of his mind as the thing raised it's terrible snout at the very spot he was at. 'This is it. Fight for your life.' Job thought as the creature opened it's double hinged jaw to spoil his hiding spot. As it's grotesque sides inflated with air to sound the alarm a long, black, slimy tentacle speared it.
The appendage descended from above, thick as a man's waist, covered in what seemed to be mucus, and black as the night, except for the bioluminescent strings of purple and blue light pulsating just beneath the glossy surface. Job's eyes didn't close a bit as the thing screamed and writhed at the end of the terrible spike. The sound caused the rest of the smaller monstrosities to flee. Job was at least grateful for that. With as little movement as he could he crept to the opening and traced the ascending one that had been caught.
Up and up and up his head tilted, following the inevitability. Four long, giant legs with knees that bent like an ostrich's hoisted a body that was also black save for the bioluminescence. It was hard to discern the creature from the sky, but the pulsing lights made it at least possible. The body looked like a gigantic fish with no tail, the mouth made of four muscular flaps that opened up to reveal a row of shark like teeth which proceeded to bite the thing it had captured in half once, spilling purple blood everywhere. Again it bit down, leaving only part of the head and jaws to be discarded as another tentacle zipped down after the fleeing horde to get another.
The slimy tendrils seemed to come from an orifice just beneath the thing's mouth, seven in all. The giant walked slowly, covering massive ground, the thick body swaying some forty feet in the air as it went. It trumpeted a triumphant blast, that sounded like a foghorn, as it scooped another piece of prey, the sound so loud Job had to cover his ears. All the things gone, for now, he slid back into his makeshift cave, panic replaced with genuine fear. 'Dear God what has the world become?' he thought to himself as his eyes closed slowly.
Unsure of the time that had passed Job opened his eyes to the pitter of rain on his cave roof. Ache still resided in him from walking and not eating, but he forced his burning orbs open as the rain moved past the mouth of his shelter. A fantastic opportunity had been afforded to him, he thought, as he grabbed an empty water bottle and began to crawl towards the falling water. He paused when he saw the droplets begin to hit the severed head of the creature that had spotted him. Another crushing feeling as his heart sank lower and lower as he watched.
The light brown skin and shell began to bubble and boil with each drop, in a matter of a minute or two the first layer sloughed off, smoldering to nothing in a small pool. Next the muscle beneath, following suit, as it smoked and roiled, then fell off or dissolved completely. The bone lasted the longest, after all the soft tissue had been washed and burned away, it soon would smoke and eventually pool into marrow and bits in the acid rain. 'No wonder there are no bones out there.' Job thought to himself as he resumed sleeping.
Heat made sleep impossible and a few hours later Job was on the move again. The sun shone harsh and the winds were dry again, as if the rain had never happened. Not being able to collect water made him wonder where the water he'd gotten from those cannibals had come from. Deciding not to worry about it he concentrated on moving towards that pillar of smoke off in the distance. He wasn't a scientist, but he tried to use logic to try and figure out what animals those things had come from. It helped pass the time.
Walking seemed to be the best way to cover ground, not too fast, not too slow, and at a pace where he didn't get thirsty. Though hunger was now an issue. In his pack he had a couple of cans with no labels, he was unsure of the contents and was hoping to save them for emergencies, but he was hungry now. The end of the freeway he was walking on presented itself, and an opportunity to rest in the underpass of the broken structure. It looked like he had hit an overpass and another highway lie beneath it. A line of skeletal cars stretched for a while in each direction, all abandoned, all rusted to near nothing.
Using a knife he cut open a can, smelling the contents. Job's face twisted as the aroma of what smelled like dog food assaulted him. It took a minute, but he decided it was better than nothing. To avoid a gag reflex he finished it quickly, cleaning the can and putting it back in his pack for further uses. About to give up his shaded spot to continue his journey he saw something he didn't expect: other people. They didn't seem to have seen him as they continued to walk right past his spot. The concrete between him and them, in a pile and rubble, had given him a vantage point.
It was a man and a woman, both dressed in tattered rags, each had a bag slung over their shoulders. Job stayed low and watched them, looking for weapons of any kind. The people moved slow and checked the cars for any supplies. A knife slipped it's sheath and was ready for anything that may come Job's way. It never did. Movement and screaming erupted in the valley he sat above, followed soon by violence.
The people were ambushed by four men brandishing clubs made from various materials, dressed in nothing but strips of clothing like native americans, and all four grotesquely misshapen and mutated in one form or another. They descended on the couple like a pack of dogs, whooping and crying at their new found prey. The two tried to flee, but it was too late, their pursuers moved way too fast. The male had his head bashed in and his clothing stripped away by two of the pack. The woman was not as lucky.
The other two of the pack tackled her to the floor and ripped off her rags, exposing her lightly tanned skin and healthy body, then she was held down. She pleaded with them, right up until the moment they began to bite at her flesh, ripping and tearing chunks away. Pleas became screams. Screams became strangled choking and gagging sounds as they tore open her abdomen, pulling out things to eat. Job couldn't look away from the carnage. Blood flowed from her mouth as she still tried to form words, but only made wet gurgles of pain. Her brown eyes locked with Job's for a moment. He watched the life leave them.
Job stayed a long while, as long as it took, for the cannibals to strip the woman's body down to nearly the bone. He stayed as still as the rocks that hid him, his eyes glued to the travesty that had happened right in front of him. The four left, laughing and wiping their mouths, tied the male up and dragged him along. One final look confirmed the man was still alive. There was nothing to be done. He was sure they were gone, but Job waited a bit longer. The climb down the small pieces of concrete was easy. He walked between the still cars, to the clearing where the woman's remains were.
He knelt and said a prayer for her, wishing her soul an easy journey into the next life. The want to search the cars was gone, the want to stay was gone, now he just wanted answers. The thoughts came like a torrent. If he'd known what would have happened to the world or what he would have woken up to he would have never volunteered for the program. He was only a convict by name. Court marshalled for killing killers that wore the same uniform as him. 'You don't have to be executed. We can make you part of the Cryo program.' they told him. He cursed their names. He'd sleep for 80 years and be reawakened and reintroduced into society. If the process was successful.
What went wrong? How long was he asleep? Why only now did he wake up? What happened to the world? His head swam with all the things that needed answering. Some noise nagged at him from the outside world. A clicking type noise. He couldn't be bothered with it right now. It persisted. Click click click click. The hiss is what brought him out of his thoughts. His body stopped and straightened, his head whipped left and right trying to find what made the noise. He found it. To his left, in the sand, and just a few feet away.
It looked like a centipede, but near twelve feet long, a deep red body with black spikes protruding randomly, eight black eyes, and long pincers coated with venom. It stood the first portion of it's body straight up, already the size of Job's six foot body. It hissed again and he slowly started to back away, moving in a deliberate retreat. Another hiss and he sped his retreat. Job guessed it wasn't satisfied as it gave chase. He ran towards the black smoke, hoping it would be another person, even cannibals would be acceptable at this point. Clicks and hisses from the angry insect were right behind him.
The pavement beneath his feet ended somewhere underground and now there was nothing but soft sand, which made running harder for him, but not his pursuer. It was gaining. Quickly. Options sped through Job's mind, all of them ended in his death. His legs pushed harder as he dared not look back, but let fear fuel him. Ahead of him, in the sand, was a sinkhole about six or so feet across. A plan formed quickly. He bee lined straight for it, hoping it would trip the creature up enough to let him escape. He was struck in the back, his pack absorbing whatever damage had been dealt. At the edge of the hole in the sand he leapt.
He rolled with his landing, but the sand was too soft for him to recover. He drew a knife and flipped onto his back, ready for the giant thing to descend upon him. Half it's body made it over the sinkhole, then it stopped dead in it's tracks and started screeching in pain as it suddenly folded in half. Something was living beneath the sand and was now making a meal of the insect chasing him. It's sharp claws dug at the sand, trying to get away, but to no avail. A plume of soft sand shot up as it got pulled further down into the sinkhole. Then another. It disappeared and the shrieking stopped.
Job panted for a moment, catching his breath and laying very still, watching the place where the centipede had been taken. Whatever lived beneath the sand was happy for now, he guessed. Cautiously he got up and moved further away. As he wiped sweat from his brow he began to wonder where the black smoke was coming from, but his question was answered before it was finished. Just ahead of him sat a church. A full, intact, church. It had it's bell, it's doors, and a fence around it meant to keep out invaders.
Black smoke came from the small apartment's chimney attached to the side of the structure in a steady pace. The fence looked to be made of sticks, barbed wire, razor wire, and whatever else might fit. Job didn't sheath his knife as he called out, taking a very big risk. "Hello?" It was a while coming, but someone responded, "Hello!" A man stumbled out of the doors, a cane in hand, sunglasses on, and clothed like a priest. His skin seemed normal, save for the left side of his face that looked like he'd been in a fire. The man looked around, craning his neck to listen better, his white, stringy hair waving around as he did. He appeared to be in his late sixties.
"Hello?" The man called again. He was blind. "Hello." Job responded. "Who is that? Who are you? I've not heard your voice before." The old man looked nervous and clutched his cane, ready to defend himself. "I'm not from here. My name is Job. I...I don't know where I am." Though the man approached, Job stayed very still. "Job? Like the Book of Job in the bible? Oh, good fortune. Oh, good fortune, indeed. What are you doing back here?" he asked as he hobbled forwards. "I've been travelling for a few days from back that way. I was following your smoke from your chimney."
The man looked very confused, "Back that way? That's the nethers, my good boy. There's nothing out there but death and fall out." Job looked over his shoulder and nodded, "Yeah. Tell me about it. Look. I woke up a few days ago in a facility a while back that way. I don't understand what's happened. Can you help me?" Suspicion creased the brow of the blind man and after a moment he spoke, "My name is Jebidiah. You'd best come inside if you're to learn, my son." Job thanked him and ducked through the fence, managing to dodge all the sharp metal.
The church was empty, save for a few pews made of rotted and rotting wood, a giant cross, and a few shelves with candles burning on them. Job sheathed the knife he had in his hand and followed Jebidiah to a pew at the front of the church. "Sit, my boy, sit. Tell me your tale." Job complied and did just that, explaining his military career, his imprisonment, and the things he'd seen. Jebidiah sat still, listening intently and carefully, only asking a question when he didn't understand something. After Job was done there was a long silence, which he broke, "What happened, Jebidiah?"
The priest nodded and sighed before he began, "Two hundred and thirty years ago there was a great war. The last great war. Not for politics, or land, or oil, or any other reason that had plagued mankind back then, but for religion. The economy had fallen to shambles and people sought answers, so they turned naturally to their churches. Each one claimed to know, claimed that they would fix all, claimed all would be well. Soon so many factions turned into just three. Christianity, Catholicism, and Trinidites. The Trinidites were a new church, founded by those with money and power, seeking to reclaim their throne atop the world. It didn't work. They all went to war."
"Holy money funded new weapons, new forms of killing, and in the end, the final weapon. The Christians wielded it, claiming to save mankind from itself. The thing was a double edged sword in the guise of a series of bombs dropped from orbit. 'Michael's Wrath', they called it. The first series of bombs were high impact EMP's, destroying all electronics. The second series....well." He sighed deeply before going on. "They were the real wrath. Hydrogen by design, but in the end nothing more than napalm fueled by nuclear power. They scorched the earth. Burnt it." Job sat back in a cold sweat, taking in the brief history of life after he'd been frozen. He felt sick and dizzy, lost and abandoned, speechless.
"I need to lie down. Is that okay?" was all Job could manage. "Lie down, son, lie down. You're safe here." Job stretched out on the pew as Jebidiah got up, but had to ask one last question, "Jebidiah, if the church did that why would you build one?" The old priest stopped and turned around with a gentle smile, "This isn't a church of God, son, it's a church of mankind. God and his followers promised us all would be well, all those years ago. It ruined us. Mankind had to build itself back up, find faith in something else. And because of them...all did not end well. Despite their attempts. All did not end well." Job was almost asleep as the priest left the room, but he had to repeat those words once more, they felt like the truth of his entire situation was distilled down to them, "All did not end well..."
Monday, October 28, 2013
Hail To The King (Original Short)
He was beautiful. The way he moved on stage, his hips, his hair, the way his eyes concentrated on the words flowing from to the microphone to the crowd. She'd watched him on the television, heard him on the radio. His voice was so wonderful. With her heightened senses she could feel the timber of it rumbling through her every time a song came on. She knew months ago that she had to have him.
She was in the concert, now, watching him. Her bright, blue eyes were hidden behind wing tipped glasses, but it didn't matter, he would notice her. The crowd screamed loudly at the first notes of the next song, so deafening was it, she actually cringed from the pain. Her slender, pale hand pushed back the mane of her hair that had fallen over her shoulder as she was pushed closer to the stage. In her two hundred plus years on this plane she had never lost her cool, she wouldn't start now.
She wasn't human. Not even close. She appeared to be one, when she chose, beautiful and come-hither, but she was not what she looked like. She was a predator. Something ancient and evil, according to scriptures, and she fed on the life-force of men. She had had a few females, but the men were all so much better. She loved their essences, their strength, their taste. It fueled her. THEY fueled her. And their screams, when she finally showed them her true self were the dessert at the end of the meal. She wondered, idly, if he'd scream.
She stood among the crowd of females, generic compared to her. She was beautiful. Her long, black hair cascaded down to her hips, her breasts were large and her waist thin. The curve of her hips into her slender thighs usually drew eyes away from her perfect face with alabaster skin. She had a perfect smile hidden behind plump lips. At first glance no man or woman could tell her succubi true form lurking beneath the polished surface of her flawlessness.
The concert raged on, not a dull moment, every girl in the crowd becoming hoarse and sweaty from their screaming and jumping and pleading. Some stood with quivering lips, their make up smeared down their cheeks as they wept from joy at seeing him. She smiled coolly to herself, knowing she'd have him and they'd be left wanting. Despite her nefarious plot she let herself enjoy the music, the band behind him, the guitars. But it was his voice. Oh his voice awakened something deep inside her, a lust she'd not felt in years.
The night drew to a close and the crowd began shuffling out. She stayed calm and smoothed down her skirt, primped her hair, made sure the bright red lipstick on her thick lips was flawless. The she began her plan. She walked to the nearest security man and introduced herself. Her name didn't matter. They all fell under her spell. One after another they let her deeper and deeper backstage. Finally she reached the door she had dreamed of for months. She knocked.
The white door with the golden star upon swung open. He smiled at her. She tried to act shy, let her cheeks flush at the sight of him. His black hair in disarray and his lopsided smile made it easy. She looked up at him and smiled back coyly, giving her name. Her spell had already trapped him in her web. After looking her once over he introduced himself as she walked inside and the door closed behind her, "Well hello, miss. I'm Elvis Presley."
For Vixi
She was in the concert, now, watching him. Her bright, blue eyes were hidden behind wing tipped glasses, but it didn't matter, he would notice her. The crowd screamed loudly at the first notes of the next song, so deafening was it, she actually cringed from the pain. Her slender, pale hand pushed back the mane of her hair that had fallen over her shoulder as she was pushed closer to the stage. In her two hundred plus years on this plane she had never lost her cool, she wouldn't start now.
She wasn't human. Not even close. She appeared to be one, when she chose, beautiful and come-hither, but she was not what she looked like. She was a predator. Something ancient and evil, according to scriptures, and she fed on the life-force of men. She had had a few females, but the men were all so much better. She loved their essences, their strength, their taste. It fueled her. THEY fueled her. And their screams, when she finally showed them her true self were the dessert at the end of the meal. She wondered, idly, if he'd scream.
She stood among the crowd of females, generic compared to her. She was beautiful. Her long, black hair cascaded down to her hips, her breasts were large and her waist thin. The curve of her hips into her slender thighs usually drew eyes away from her perfect face with alabaster skin. She had a perfect smile hidden behind plump lips. At first glance no man or woman could tell her succubi true form lurking beneath the polished surface of her flawlessness.
The concert raged on, not a dull moment, every girl in the crowd becoming hoarse and sweaty from their screaming and jumping and pleading. Some stood with quivering lips, their make up smeared down their cheeks as they wept from joy at seeing him. She smiled coolly to herself, knowing she'd have him and they'd be left wanting. Despite her nefarious plot she let herself enjoy the music, the band behind him, the guitars. But it was his voice. Oh his voice awakened something deep inside her, a lust she'd not felt in years.
The night drew to a close and the crowd began shuffling out. She stayed calm and smoothed down her skirt, primped her hair, made sure the bright red lipstick on her thick lips was flawless. The she began her plan. She walked to the nearest security man and introduced herself. Her name didn't matter. They all fell under her spell. One after another they let her deeper and deeper backstage. Finally she reached the door she had dreamed of for months. She knocked.
The white door with the golden star upon swung open. He smiled at her. She tried to act shy, let her cheeks flush at the sight of him. His black hair in disarray and his lopsided smile made it easy. She looked up at him and smiled back coyly, giving her name. Her spell had already trapped him in her web. After looking her once over he introduced himself as she walked inside and the door closed behind her, "Well hello, miss. I'm Elvis Presley."
For Vixi
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