Horror Poem: Werewolves
(Nov 2008)
I wrote this for the Demon Poetry Contest, but lost :p
Claws tear and teeth rend both cloth and flesh
While seeking pale skin beneath
Chained in pool of crimson blood
Plaything for the werewolves in their den
Both beast and man wrapped together
Behind haughty eyes and sneering face
Each scream tickles their ears
As they take their turn with what used to be
A young maiden from the desecrated village
Both town and girl now ruined and destroyed
by hands matted with their blood
And they laugh as she pleads for death
A shattered victim of this bestial carnality
When her shell no longer serves its purpose
And they have exhausted their pleasure
Then their fun turns to feast
Raw flesh to tempt their pallet
And a burbling stream of crimson to end their thirst
Splattered on the walls and floors
Their den soaked with her life as she is pulled apart
A piece for each, a fight for the heart
With flashing teeth and snarling growls
And then the head impaled on a spike of stone
Above the door of the reeking den
A warning to those still living
Not to cross the werewolves path
Song of the Moment – Mother earth – Within Temptation
Horror Poetry: China Doll
(oct 2008)
This was written for a challenge.
CHINA DOLL
Creep across the floor and through my nightmares
wave your tortured limbs and scream about the agony
Haunt my memory and sicken me with guilt,
black and sticky like the tar we buried you in.
Cut me with razorblades of shame
the way we cut you.
Peel away my face and replace it with a china mask
while I scream and plead for mercy,
until my words are just gurgles of my own blood.Watch my life soak your makeshift operating table,
the way yours did the one hidden in his basement.
Have your fun, take your revenge like we did.
Though my sin is so much greater than yours,
one who died for being too much,
the right name, the right face, the wrong attitude.
It was the punishment we inflicted on you,
you thought you were perfect and so
we made you into a living doll,
twisted and grotesque beneath our clumsy hands,
pale skin stitched with bloody threads.Now you come to torment me in darkest night.
So take me to his basement
Tie my wrists and ankles with barbed wire and
shove a dirty rag in my mouth
to stifle the agony as you rearrange me
and when it’s done
and your macabre experiment has concluded
then bury me in the tar pit, a mutilated corpse who is
finally free of their mistakes.
***************
Fav song of the second – Think About It – Flight of the Conchords (this thing is hilarious!)
The first shot at the wraparound
I managed to squish some time in today to work on the rough draft of my wraparound. If you’d like to read the blurb and/or leave some feedback on it, you can do that on my author blog. You’ll notice there’s a big black box that’s empty. I decided to go out on a limb this time and solicit some blurbs before it was published. Okay, I got lucky and a couple of people offered. Who am I kidding? Ruth Ann Nordin was ind enough to let me use a blurb from her review of Shades of Gray on the last book, and then I used a quote from Daniel Kennedy. He just has a very “weighty” sounding name – like he;s someone important. Or is that just me? I thought about hitting Jonathan up for one, but 1) he hasn’t finished the second book yet, so book 3 isn’t going to happen for awhile and 2) I thought it might conflict with his genre a little. Some people might frown on a devotional written by a guy who’s being quoted all over vampire books. Though if they get offended that easily his book (Shades of Plaid) will aggravate them, anyway. I think it’s great, but then I’m twisted, so I hear.
Enough yacking, here’s the rough draft:
click it for the full size
I have to get back to work on a cover for someone else, now. The one with the high heel, as a matter of fact 😉
Awesome song playing at the moment – “I’ll Give You Sympathy” – The Rascals
Vampire Morsels: Elsa
This was supposed to be for Blogophilia (there are prompts from two different weeks sprinkled in here!) but I’m too late, again, so it’s just getting posted as is. No points for tardy Jo 😦
Elsa
(You can find Elsa in Shades of Gray. She is the one who turned Michael. This story takes place in the early 1980’s.)
Elsa stared at him and he stared back. A long moment dragged past and then he gave what amounted to an apologetic shrug and strode away in the rain. She watched him go; watched him climb into his black car and disappear into the night, and then she went inside and cried.
She hated him, but she hated herself even more.
When the tears stopped coming she wiped her face and went to the kitchen. In movies people always splashed water on their face, but what was the point? It was damp enough. Though, that would be a good excuse if her parents saw her.
“Why is your face wet?”
“Because I just washed it.”
Yeah, right.
She opened the refrigerator and stared inside. Her eyes skipped from item to item again and again, as if they might conjure something new and infinitely delicious, but they didn’t. There were vegetables and fruit and cold iced tea. None of it would help settle a broken heart.
But what would?
She closed the door and dropped into a kitchen chair. The coffee pot light blinked in the darkness and the rain splattered noisily on the window. It was just the kind of night to be miserable, wasn’t it? The kind of night that practically screamed for the company of the depressed and lonely. Even if it was their own fault. Which it was.
She knew he didn’t want anything serious. She knew he had a life that was as different from hers as night was from day, not to mention a girlfriend he’d never leave. Still, she’d hoped anyway, hadn’t she? Deep down she’d believed that he’d stay. That was why she was so shocked when he said goodbye.
“Bye, babes. It’s been fun.”
What fantastic parting words. Those were the kind of words you could frame and hang on a wall. As if. Couldn’t he come up with something better? He had enough practice that he should have a little speech memorized just for the occasion. Did he say that to all the girls, or was she just the one lucky enough for such a poetic verse. Didn’t immortality require something better from him?
Damn him.
She ran her fingers through her brown hair and took a deep, cleansing breath. She wished she could wash him away, the way she’d washed the blood from her skin after their first night. He’d shown her what he was and she’d accepted it; welcomed it. He was beautiful and charismatic, and when she looked in his eyes the world jumped.
And now he was gone.
She abandoned the kitchen and her silent coffee pot companion. The front room was awash in whispery shadows. She stopped by the tv and turned it on, but there was only static. It was too late for programming. It was as if the station managers were all saying in unison “Go to bed!”
She threw herself on the couch and absently picked up the phone from the stand. She stared at it. Nothing happened. With a sigh she snatched up the receiver and tapped in Jennifer’s number. She was her best friend and this was the kind of situation best friends were supposed to be for.
Elsa counted off the rings. One. Two. Three. Four. They rang on and on, until she ticked off number eighteen. That was when the line clicked and a sleepy voice muttered, “Hello?”
Elsa gripped the phone in a strangulation hold and tried to find words. “Jen-“ A thick sob cut her off and she broke down. “Tristan. He- he’s gone!” she wailed.
“What? Who’s gone?” Jen yawned and slowly came to terms with the conversation. “Elsa, is that you?”
“He’s gone!” she sobbed again. “He just left! God dammit, he just left!”
“Oh, that dude who thought he was a vampire?” Jen was suddenly awake and her voice dripped sarcasm instead of sympathy. “Look, he was hot – maybe not bringing back sexy hot, but still hot, I admit that. But, Elsa, he thought he was a vampire.”
“He was!” she cried. “Goddamit! He was! And he left!”
“Yeah, I get that he left. But you’re better off without the psycho. What would your parents say?”
Elsa watched the streaky shadows the rain threw across the carpet. This was all wrong. Jennifer was supposed to tell her it was all right. She was supposed to understand . She wasn’t supposed to lecture her. “I’m twenty. I can do what I want.”
Jen imitated her father, “Not while you’re under my roof.” When Elsa didn’t so much as giggle she sighed. “Okay, look. I’m sorry, all right? But there’s plenty of other fish in the sea.”
Elsa caught her breath and held it. Plenty of other fish. That was a line straight from the annals of cliché comfort, and so she quit listening, though Jennifer kept talking. And talking.
Elsa cleared her throat loudly, and cut into the rambling spiel. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Elsa, wait-“
She didn’t. She hung up the phone and then, for good measure, she unplugged it. Tears dripped down her cheeks like the rain on the window. She wished she’d done something besides stare at him. She wished she’d thrown herself at his feet – her pride be damned! Never, never give in. Never, never let something so important slip away. Don’t just sit there and cry about your lost paradise. Get up and do something about it.
That was what she needed to do.
Elsa stopped in the bathroom and splashed water on her face. As she thought, it did nothing to help, and soaked her shirt. She changed, threw on her raincoat and, without leaving so much as a note, she slipped out the door and into the storming night.
She slid into her car and started it. The heavy engine roared to life and she wished for the millionth time that she could afford one of the cute cars. The radio crackled and Madonna bled through the static. Her tiny, high pitched voice was no comfort, so Elsa turned the radio off.
She turned on the lights and the wipers, put the beast into gear and backed out carefully. Under the streetlights the road was a glare of slick reflections that made it hard to see. She navigated slowly, though she was only half focused on the task. Most of her attention was turned on where to go.
Twenty minutes later she parked outside of the Roockwood Inn where Tristan had been staying. The vacancy light flickered eerily, and the raindrops echoed off the car; ping, ping, ping. The darkness seemed to watch her like a tangible, malevolent creature. She shivered at the thought and climbed out of the car.
Room 622, around the back. That was where he’d been, but no one answered her knock. She pounded again and again, until someone in room 623 shouted at her to be quiet. She couldn’t give up, so she hurried through the rain and into the shabby motel office. The walls were stained with tobacco and smoke hung thick in the air. The bell was broken, so she banged on the counter impatiently.
A voice came from behind the nicotine tatty blanket that served as a makeshift door between the office and the back rooms. “Yeah, yeah, hang on.”
She didn’t have time. Each second might be taking him farther away from her.
The blanket was thrown aside and a short fat man dressed in a horrible Hawaiian short waddled out. He took a puff from his cigar and eyed her critically. “Yeah, what can I help you with?”
“I’m looking for someone. Tristan Shelby. He was in room 622.”
The attendant shrugged. “Room 622 checked out earlier. Sorry, sister.” He looked her up and down again. “Just as well. I’d let that one go, if I was you.”
“I can’t!” she cried passionately. “Do you know where he went?” Tears trembled at the edges of her eyes, ready to drop.
The attendant scratched his stomach thoughtfully. Indecision flickered over his face, but finally her tears swayed him. “I don’t know where he went for sure, but he was runnin’ with a local crowd. They hang out at the old fair grounds most nights, so he might be down there. But-“ he lowered his cigar and met her eyes. “I wouldn’t go lookin’ for any of them, if I was you. They’re not what you think they are.”
Hope blossomed inside her. The old fairgrounds were a popular hangout for teenagers and, having grown up there, she knew them well. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”
“Remember I warned you!”
His words were lost as she dashed out the door into the rain. If she could only catch Tristan and say all those things she should have said earlier, then maybe she could stop this.
The drive was short. The fairgrounds were on the edge of town, and had been abandoned since the late 70’s. She parked in the overgrown lot and got out. The tall, wet grass wrapped around her legs like grasping hands. She shook it off and forced her way through it towards the peeling gates. A wooden sunshine cut out still hung above them. Its toothy grin was faded and chipped, and the colors were bleached almost gray. “Have a Happy Day” was just visible on the reverse side in faded rainbow letters.
The ticket booth was dark and silent. The windows were a spider web of cracks that told stories of bb guns and rocks. Scattered beer bottles glittered in the flashing lightning and weeds grew through the cracked pavement. The rusted Ferris wheel hulked to her left. Vines covered it and hung down in long, thick tendrils like something from a nightmare scape.
She could feel eyes in the darkness again; feel the night watching her. She forced the silly superstition away and told herself to grow up. There was nothing to be afraid of. She’d been there before.
But never alone.
Am I alone now?
“Hello?”
No one answered her except the rain. She pulled up her courage and walked deeper into the fairgrounds. The carousel loomed ahead of her. The dirty mirrors still tried to glitter on the canopy, and the silent horses stood in a frozen circle, waiting for riders that would never return.
She stopped next to it and waited as a bolt of lightning sliced through the sky. In the instant of light, she looked around madly, but didn’t see anyone. Her heart sank as she realized that she’d missed him. It was too late. Tristan was gone.
Her body sagged and she used the nearest carousel horse to hoist herself onto the large, disc-like base. She felt too morose to do more than sit on the edge and stare at her dangling feet. What was the point? Maybe she’d get lucky and the carousel would get struck by lightning.
She glanced up to her silent, painted companion. Dark streaks ran down the horse’s face, like old tears. Oddly, that made her smile. “You know what it’s like, don’t you? With no reason to go on anymore?”
Thunder snapped and she sighed. She should go home and have a cup of coffee. She should change into her pajamas and go to bed. In the morning she should get up and put on her make up and go to work. Again and again the same routine. Meanwhile, he would be doing what? Or who?
She heard something. Her head snapped up and she looked around, but there was nothing. Only rain and dark and rusted rides. It was probably just a rat, anyway. Yeah. A rat.
A rat with fangs.
A man stood in front of her. To her terrified mind he was only a black shape with snarled lips and long, pointed teeth. A vampire, like Tristan. But, it wasn’t Tristan. It was someone else. Someone she needed to get away from.
She gasped and tried to throw herself backwards, but the carousel horse blocked her escape. He was too fast and she was suddenly pinned down on the old carousel. He held her by her wrist and growled into her face. His eyes were strange, not human but more like a wild dog; a wild starving dog.
He didn’t ask who she was, or what she was doing. He only stared into her eyes for an agonizing moment and then tore into her neck. She screamed, but the sound was drown out by the rolling thunder. Lightning sliced across the sky and in the brightness she could see the rain drops, suspended in midair and the sad, weather stained face of the carousel horse, watching with chipped eyes. The darkness crashed back, but the image stayed in her head, like a still frame. Perhaps the last thing she’d ever see.
With her last breaths she screamed for Tristan.
There was a blur of motion and suddenly she was free of her attacker. She tried to move, but she was too weak to do more than roll her head to one side. The carousel horse and its neighbors were broken and strewn in the mud. The dark vampire lay nearby, hanging half off the carousel, his face covered in blood. From the shadows a second man stepped forward. He had bright red hair, like a punk rocker, and though he was soaked he brushed at the mud on his long coat as he approached them.
“Sorry, Lennon. But I think I need her alive.” The new vampire hopped lithely onto the carousel platform, stepped over the bloody and angry Lennon and came to a stop next to her. He peered down at her like a vulture, his brow puckered. “You are alive, aren’t you?”
Her answer was a gurgle. Terror engulfed her. She tried to raise her hands to her gaping neck, but her arms wouldn’t work. All she could do was plead with silent eyes.
Lennon stood and wiped the blood from his chin. “What do you need her for?”
The red head arched a single brow. “Unless I’m much mistaken, she was shouting for our friend Tristan who, if you’ll recall, I am trying to locate. It seems that if she knows him, she may well know where he is.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Or maybe not.” He shrugged as if it was suddenly of no consequence. “It appears she’s useless to me, after all, so you can do what you want with her. Either kill her or turn her.”
“Turn her?” Lennon stared at him as if he’d gone crazy. “Why would I do that?”
The world shifted into shades of gray and Elsa choked. She tried to concentrate, but the conversation slipped through her fingers like tears. Tristan. Where is he? Why isn’t he here?
“Why not?” the red head asked cheerfully. “She seems to know all about us already. That’s hard to come by in a fledgling, and it’s not like you have any, yet-“
Tristan.
“- Besides, it might be fun-“
Where are you?
“-Of course, it’s up to you. I don’t care one way or the other-“
Tristan.
“-better decide before it’s too late-“
Goodbye babes, it’s been fun.
The thunder cracked, but the sound was muted behind a wall of black. There was something in her mouth. The taste was bitter and sharp, like sucking a knife blade. She swallowed. It burned like fire. She swallowed again. And again.
It was an hour or more before she could move. The first thing she did was sit up and touch her neck. The wound was gone. Even the blood had been washed away by the steady drum of rain.
Lennon sat nearby, his knees up and his eyes on her. “I’m Lennon,” he said pointlessly. Then he half-lifted a hand in greeting. “Hey.”
Her eyes skipped around, but they seemed to be alone. “Where’s-”
“That red haired guy?” She nodded and Lennon shrugged. “Went back to work, I guess. He’s hunting them. Tristan and his partner. “
“Hunting them?” she echoed. “He’s not going to – I mean he won’t…”
“Kill him?”
The words were too horrible to contemplate, but there they were, just the same. Lennon didn’t explain further, so she forced the question out, “Will he?”
Lennon’s expression softened. “Were you guys, you know?” The answer was in her eyes, and he suddenly looked away. “I don’t know. It depends, I guess. If he just goes quietly then probably not.”
Despite his attempt at reassurance, it was impossible to combat her panic. “But why is he after Tristan?”
“I don’t know. They’re wanted for something. Hard to tell.” Lennon fished a soggy pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He tried to slide one out, but it crumbled in his hand. With a mournful sigh he tossed it away. “Maybe because the guy’s obviously telling humans about us.” She opened her mouth to ask what he meant and he added, “You are – were – human, and he told you.”
Elsa couldn’t argue with that, though the word “were” disturbed her.
Lennon threw the ruined cigarettes away and stood up. “We better go. I’ve got to find my brother, then we need to get back to the den before sunrise.”
“Where’s that?” she mumbled, still lost in the intricate twists of the night’s events.
“New York.”
Her attention snapped to him. “I can’t go to New York! I have to go to work tomorrow-” The sentence died on her lips as the full realization of her new status crashed down on her. She struggled to come to terms with everything that had in the last few hours. Hours. Was that all it had been? A few hours had taken Tristan away and changed her?
Changed her like she’d once asked Tristan to do.
“Have fun with that.” Lennon stood and offered her a hand. “I hope you don’t act this stupid when you meet Claudius.”
A mixture of panic and elation coursed through her and she fought to master it. “Is Claudius your brother?”
“Hardly!” He snickered. “He’s the coven master. We’re supposed to get permission before we make fledglings.” He frowned. “I’m not really sure what to tell him. I’m not really sure why I did it.” he squinted ta her. “You’re not bad looking, I guess, but we need to work on a better story that this.” He waved his hand around the abandoned grounds as if to indicate the truth.
She had no answer for him, though he didn’t seem to expect one. He tugged her to her feet and led her through the rainy fairgrounds towards the exit.
Vampire.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she could hear Jennifer’s voice echoing, “He thought he was a vampire.”
That’s because he is, and now so am I.
Vampire.
The sign over the exit made her giggle softly. “Have a Happy Day”. Bizarrely, she would never have another day again. There would only be night after night from now on. But it was all right; or it would be once she found Tristan. Never, never give in. Never, never let something so important slip away. Don’t just sit there and cry about your lost paradise. Get up and do something about it.
And now she had an eternity to do it in.
**********
Next up is either Herrick or Jeda, depending on my mood. (Herrick is so minor that his only contribution is he dies and Jorick and Katelina inherit his coffin, so he may get skipped.)
Song playing at the moment – Harleys & Indians – Roxette
Dark Story – Part 14
(Originally from October 2007)
This is a study in free flow writing. It may not make sense when it’s finished. Oh well.
**Mature content warning**
********************
The warm sun washed her skin and warmed her face. Keena woke, blinking at the golden beams and trying to get her bearings. she lifted a hand to shade her eyes and nearly cried out as she beheld her flesh returned to its former youth.
“You’re awake.”
She looked up to see Querin standing over her. He still wore the mud stained clothes from the night before and weariness clung around his eyes and mouth, but he couldn’t hide the relief on his face.
“Yes.. where am I?” She sat up uncertainly. The small sunlit room seemed familiar, but somehow foriegn.
His voice as rich with amusement, “You’re in the house of your aunt where sunlight has scarce been, though I am afraid she won’t be able to conduct her hosting duties.”
“Where is she?” It was a question that needed asked, though she dreaded what the answer might be.
“Gone” he replied simply. “Her magic was strong but her sprit was not strong enough to withstand the spells.”
She didn’t know what to say, so she simply nodded and asked another question. “The village?”
“Some survived.”
She dropped back into the bed and closed her eyes. “I don’t understand where they came from. Those… things.”
“You can thank your aunt, though she ceased to be your aunt years ago, after she gave her soul to the dark prince. The winter of the wolves was brought on by her and her attempts to summon demons from beyond the veil. She mistakenly created the pack, and when the village sent its men, my brother included, to kill the wolves, the wolves simply made their hunters like themselves. She went to find them, seeing her husband, and tried to use magic far too strong for her to handle, which is how she withered herself.”
Keena silently allowed his words to sink in.
“She has been taken by the earth now,” he added. “I have no doubt her soul, such as it was, is now in the keeping of Beelzebub himself.”
Keena studied him intently. “And what will you do now that you’ve found your brother?”
“I will go home,” he said simply. “I have found everything I sought, so I have no need to remain.”
“Oh,” se replied, he voice small. “Of course.”
“If you were wise, you would go with me,” he said casually. “You have a great power slumbering within you, as have all of your line for many generations.” He offered her his hand. “I was trained from infancy by the greatest warlock in our country. A man with hair of red copper, who left this town when he was but a child, leaving behind his sisters. I know whose blood runs through your veins, and who your ancestors are, just as they knew you when they saw you. At the death of my master I swore never again to use my powers for darkness, and should you make such a vow then I would ask you this: Come with me, and together we can hide from all the great sorcerers, mages and witches of the world.”
Keena cocked her head to one side, thoughtfully. Her village was decimated, her aunt, her last remaining family, dead. Her life was destroyed and there was nothing but vile memories left for her. “Yes,” she said softy. “I will go with you.” But she would make no vow.
The end
(I see that there is room for a sequel. There will be no sequel. One was enough for me!)
Dark Story – Part 13
(Originally from October 2007)
This is a study in free flow writing. It may not make sense when it’s finished. Oh well.
**Mature content warning**
********************
Keena stood slowly. She shook the cold mud off of herself and tried to wipe her face clean. not far from her, she could see another of the flaming creatures swooping through the air, but it was too busy dangling a child by the leg to notice her. Waving the child, it taunted the boy’s shrieking mother before dashing his skull against the nearest building. Then it lifted the lifeless body so that the blood to poured from the ruined skull and all over its horrific face.
Shuddering in horror, she forced her stomach down, refusing to be sick. The demon grabbed the wailing mother, and Keen purposefully turned her back. Screams sounded all around her as people died, but she ignored it all. she needed to focus. Her spine straight, she strode with purpose, searching for Querin, the one person amongst the terrified rabble who might know what to do.
She found him standing like a rock amidst a stormy sea, his arms raised towards the churning sky. She instinctively came to a halt. A great energy swirled all round him until the very air crackled with electricity. As he had in the clearing, he seemed to grow taller and larger, swelling with some dark power. When he spoke, his voice echoed through the far reaches of the decimated village, thundering over the pounding of the rain. His words were thick and twisted, that strange language her aunt had used to create this havoc.
The demons screamed, until their cries were in unison. They moved as one, circling around Querin, hissing and snarling but not daring to draw too close, their faces twisted in anger. One swooped low in front of him, a sneer on its face. “You try to banish us,” it hissed. “Would you really be so cruel to your own brother.”
Surprise showed on Querrin’s face, but he didn’t stop his chant.
“Oh yes, your brother,” the demon laughed. “I took his body and now I hold his very mind within my grasp. Would you banish your own flesh from this world, mortal?”
A voice sounded inside her head, loud and clear as if spoken aloud. It was Querin’s voice commanding her to come to him, to join him in the fight against the demonic beings. Her only answer was to stare at him in wonder. what help could she possibly offer? The voice came again, louder and more commanding. Still unsure what good it would do, she hurried to him, her eyes questioning the reality of his call.
Without looking at her, he caught her hand in his. His skin felt hot to the touch and, as his fingers closed around hers, she felt the power that was surrounding him flow into her.
He continued his chant and soon she heard her own voice repeating the harsh words, though she didn’t know their meaning or how they came to be in her mind. Their voices intertwined around one another until she could no long distinguish her tones from those of the man beside her.
The demon’s screams grew louder, and they dropped to earth, their feet sinking in the sucking mud as they howled, their faming hands over their ears, trying to block out the chanted words. The one claiming to be his brother fell to its knees and was quickly followed by he other two, all three now kneeling and clutching at their heads, the writhing flames growing dimmer as the chant grew louder.
The ground trembled beneath their feet and they swayed. One of the demons dropped to the ground and landed on all fours, and then the other two fell. The trembling became violent shaking, and the demons sunk deeper and deeper into the mud, slowly disappearing in the thickening slop.
“Noooooooooo!”
Eseldra was suddenly in their midst, crying out in anger as she watched all she’d worked for ruined. Her long red hair fell around her, tangled and filthy. Her naked form was smeared in blood and mud. Even her face was streaked with black ashes.
“Be gone foul demons!” Querin cried, dropping his raised hand suddenly. The air rippled with his movement and, with a final howl, the demons disappeared in the churning mud, leaving only a scared landscape as proof they’d ever been present.
“And now for you!” Querin stared at Eseldra, his eyes hard. “Your judgment has come, witch. As ye have done so shall be done unto you!”
The chant changed and Keena suddenly stopped speaking, her eyes wide. She staggered as a great force slammed into her, and then she sagged, dropping towards the mud as darkness closed in around her.
To be continued…
(It’s almost finished!!)
Dark Story – Part 12
(Originally from October 2007)
This is a study in free flow writing. It may not make sense when it’s finished. Oh well.
**Mature content warning**
********************
They ran. Querin quickly outdistanced her and soon disappeared amongst the cluster of houses and horrified villagers. Keena paused on the edge of the town, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, still unused to the old, feeble body. Her eyes swept the scene spread before her. Flames curled up into the dark night and belched out clouds of inky smoke to help block the already cloud shrouded moon.
Thunder rumbled over head, and she instinctively looked up at the boiling clouds. The smell of the coming storm was drown out by the odor of burning wood and thatch, but she could feel it neither the less.
Forcing herself to move, she reached the first house just as the heavens opened up and began to pour rain like the torrential tears of the angels trying to save what remained of the poor village. But it was too little too late, and even as the water fell all around her, Keena could see the skeletal, charred remains of most of the town still smoldering or burning with flames too stubborn to die.
In the town square she found the bodies. Three dead wolves lay in pools of blood, twisted and contorted in agony. Their stomachs were ripped opened as if something had climbed out of them and was now loosed upon the world. Fear filled her as she remembered Querin’s words about demons and gateways. There would have been a time when she would have dismissed the words as ignorant superstition but in the last two years she had seen enough to believe him.
She moved through what had every appearance of a war zone. Here and there lay the abandoned bodies of villagers, limbs torn and wounds gouged into their pale flesh. The narrow streets grew sloppy with mud, water, blood and ashes. They mixed into a substance that sucked at her feet. Thick, acrid smoke curled from fires that the rain had extinguished, choking her and stinging her eyes. She had nearly reached the site of her old home when something large and red came bearing down on her, arms waving as if swooped low on giant bat wings; a creature so completely wreathed in living flame that it seemed to be made of fire.
A scream tore from her throat and she searched vainly for a place to hide from what was most certainly one of the demons Querin had mentioned. Turning, she ran headlong down the street, her sodden skirt clenched in her hands, but it tackled her from behind, knocking her face first into the ground. Mud sprayed over her face, coated he eyelashes and filled her mouth. She sputtered and spit out the foul tasting substance. Then, she tried to stand, but the weight of the thing was too much for her to shake off.
She closed her eyes,. There was only blackness behind her eyes. With a shuddering breath, she prepared herself for impending death, but instead of pain she felt the weight suddenly lifted from her back. She blinked and slowly rolled over, gasping as she saw the thing hovering above her still, it’s large wings beating a hot wind in her upturned face.
They stared at one another, this creature whose eyes burned her soul like the heart of the sun, and what appeared to be a small, withered old woman. Finally, releasing a howling call that rent the night, the burning creature flew up and away from her and towards its brothers.
She lay in the mud, staring at the spot it had vacated, incomprehension her only accompaniment. The cold rain continued to fall, and finally it woke her from her state of semi-shock. She needed to move.
To be continued…..
(This is the story that never ends…)
Dark Story – Part 11
(Originally from October 2007)
This is a study in free flow writing. It may not make sense when it’s finished. Oh well.
**Mature content warning**
********************
Querin continued to chant, and the writhing wolves began to change. It was slow, almost imperceptible at first, but as Keena watched she could see their legs and torsos lengthening and their heads changing shape. As the strange mutation continued, it gained in speed, rapidly bringing the creatures to their new shape until the space as no longer filled with whining wolves but screaming men.
Keena stared dumbfounded at the changes before her, noting with an almost surprising amount of horror that the dark wolf had changed into none other than the mysteriously returned Torick. He threw his hands over his face, trying to shield his eyes, screaming for Eseldra – who didn’t come.
The men nearest to Querin shrieked louder, and tendrils of smoke curled up from their skin. Dark spots, like bruise colored flowers, blossomed on them. They clutched at themselves, howling in their agony, as Querin’s voice grew louder and more forceful, no doubt commanding them to die.
At the last Keena had to look away, unable to watch their demise. She covered her ears to drown out their death screams, but nothing she did could block the sound. She shuddered noticeably. Tears stung her clenched eyes as the men died. Torick’s voice rose above the others as he continued to desperately scream for his wife.
The last echoes of his agonized voice died away, and Keena opened her eyes in time to see the golden light wink out, leaving the woods in blackness and silence. Unable to resist she drew forward. Querin surveyed the bodies that lay scattered at his feet, each one black and charred, their features and limbs twisted to reflect the agonized frenzy they had died in. Her eyes were drawn towards the darkened figure of what had once been her uncle, his burned mouth still opened, silently screaming for she who had abandoned him.
Querin was soon at her side, his hand on her shoulder. “Come, we have not finished yet.”
She nodded slowly and let him lead her away from the carnage, her head bowed.
As if reading her thoughts Querin spoke calmly, soothingly. “They were no longer human, but something else. Possessed by dark demons that gave them the power to take the shape of wolves. They would have taken the entire village in a bath of blood to complete their spell and free themselves of the demon’s gift.”
Her voice was a barely audible whisper, stating things even she wanted to ignore, “But if they wanted free then weren’t they still human inside?”
He took a moment to answer. “Perhaps. Or perhaps it was the demon’s wish for freedom that drove them. They only like to be trapped inside a mortal body so long and then they want released into the world. They cannot break through the membrane that separates our plains alone, they must use a vessel, a living body as a gateway. Had we left them they would have devoured the village and then the demons would have been released from their prisons of flesh to roam the earth and cause death and destruction.”
She nodded again and fell silent, though it was hard to agree while the memory of Torick’s screams reverberated in her ears, reiterating the humanity he’d still possessed.
Keena had to stop and rest more than once, but Querin was patient with her, always using it as an opportunity to scout ahead in search of Eseldra and the three wolves that had escaped him. They saw and heard the village before they reached it. A low orange glow in the thickly clouded sky told them of fire, while the echoing screams spoke of an attack.
To be continued….
(It’s Eseldra’s fault this isn’t ending… her and her escaping…. damn her….)
Dark Story – Part 10
(Originally from October 2007)
This is a study in free flow writing. It may not make sense when it’s finished. Oh well.
**Mature content warning**
********************
Eseldra’s chanting grew louder and more frenzied, as did the wolves. They continued to circle her, each pausing now and again to let loose a howl towards the heavens. Querin’s scowl deepened as he listened to her twisted words, and finally, as her voice reached its highest pitch, he cautioned Keena to stay silent and then flung himself from the dark trees into the midst of the wild animals.
The wolves bristled and snarled at his sudden, intrusive presence, but Eseldra did not stop her chanting.Her eyes narrowed in anger, but still she carried on.
“You will stop this!” Querin cried, holding out his clenched fist and peeling back his fingers slowly to reveal the shimmering silver crystal he’d used with mixed success earlier in the day.
The dark wolf at Eseldra’s side reared up on it’s haunches, growling fiercely, but she showed no awareness of Querin’s threat. Her voice continued to rise and fall, though the words seemed to come faster, so perhaps she was not so blind as she seemed.
Keena stood alone in the trees, her eyes large and filled with fear. Her heart hammered in her chest and her fingers, now old and withered, dug painfully into the bark of the tree she clung to. She watched as Querin held the crystal skyward, twisting his wrist so that it caught the moonlight. The crystal seemed to glow silvery blue, refracting the moon’s light all around the clearing in shimmering beams that had no effect on anyone. Or at least it didn’t seem to at first; but slowly she noticed a change not in the witch nor the wolves, but in Querin himself. He seemed to get taller, larger somehow, and yet she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just a trick of the light. And that’s when she realized, despite what he’d said to her earlier, he was now chanting.
Her mind reeled. Perhaps he truly was on Eseldra’s side….. She took a sharp breath and stepped backwards, unaware of the snapping twig beneath her foot. Though she did not hear her own movements, the wolves were suddenly aware of her presence. Three of them broke from the pack, ignoring the man in their midst, and loped towards her place of concealment.
Eyes wild, she backed away, her head snapping in all directions in search of a hiding place or escape amongst the dark underbrush. Her sapped limbs trembled, betraying her in her time of need. All she could do was back up against a large tree as the wolves headed towards her.
And then the world exploded in golden light that illuminated the trees like noon. She threw her am up to shield her eyes from the sudden onslaught, her ears filled with the whining of he wolves and Eseldra’s cries. Blinking against the brightness, she watched the three wolves turn from her and run deeper into the darkened woods to seek shelter.
Querin’s voice rose, filling the void left by the cessation of her aunt’s chanting. His words were as garbled and strange as hers had been. As he gained volume, Keena slowly moved towards him, shielding er face from the uncannily bight light.
Querin stood in the center of the clearing, still clutching the moon drenched crystal in one hand. In the other, he held aloft a golden crystal that glowed with he intensity of the sun. Several of the wolves lay at his feet, rolling in the dirt and whining, unable to escape him or the light that burned their eyes and flesh as they cried.
Eseldra was nowhere to be seen, but she had left behind the large black wolf who, like his brothers, was caught in the mercilessly scorching glow. He whimpered and his head jerked desperately, perhaps searching for the woman who had been next to him only moments ago.
To be continued….
(this is the story that doesn’t end….)
Dark Story – Part 9
(Originally from October 2007)
This is a study in free flow writing. It may not make sense when it’s finished. Oh well.
**Mature content warning**
********************
Querin murmured to himself as he examined the remnants of the previous night’s ritual,. He shook his head as he knelt over the charred remains of the child in the midst of the circle. With one finger he prodded the ashes, and then stood, his expression veiled.
“It is an uncommon spell,” he said, breaking the strange silence. “But a strong one. See here,” He pointed to one of the designs on the floor. “This line, it is used to take strength from another, from the sacrificial victim.” He glanced at her and then back to the markings. “The babe was naught more than a minor offering. You were the true sacrifice.” He motioned to another line. “This one, it connects to the victim. No doubt you stood in this area here?” He indicated the spot she’d been only last night.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She wasn’t sure how to react to the knowledge that her aunt had planned to use her, though the question entered her mind: How long had she planned this ? Had it been on her mind the moment she’d stumbled out of the woods and sealed herself up in her house? Had she always meant it to end this way?
The thoughts made her shiver, but she left them unspoken and soon she and Querin were once again beneath the moon’s soft light, only this time their destination was the darkened woods. Keena hesitated for only a moment before plunging into the thick blackness of the trees, following in Querin’s wake.
The branches of trees seemed to claw at them as they wound through the forest. The brambles caught at their clothes as if trying to stop them. An unwholesome feeling permeated the closely seated trees and underbrush that gave them both goose bumps, though neither spoke of it.
A wolf howled in the distance and Querin drew to a stop. He caught her with an arm and motioned her to silence. He nodded towards the sound of the wolf and then moved towards it, though slower and quieter this time. As they drew nearer, the howling grew louder and louder. It was with great trepidation that Keena continued o follow Querin’s lead. Silently, she questioned his motives and the truthfulness of his account of himself. Perhaps he was allied with Eseldra and was leading her into the woods so that her aunt could finish what she had begun..
Her musings came to an abrupt halt, as did they, when a clearing came into view. In the center of it stood Eseldra, her long red hair flowing around her naked shoulders, her bare arms raised to the heavens as she chanted in that strange, harsh language she’d used in her last ritual. At her feet were gathered a pack of wolves, milling around one another, jostling for a position close to her. At her side sat a large, dark wolf who eyed the others with what amounted to disdain, his fur bristling.
“It is as I thought,” Querin whispered, reaching inside his cloak and removing something. “This will not be easy.”
To be continued…..
(He’s right! This thing is not easy to end! Yergh!)
Most of the photos and art on this site, by Joleene Naylor are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.
My Flickr Photos
ramblingsfromthedarkness.wordpress.com 