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A Cross With Wings and Horns
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A Cross With Wings and Horns |
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Alain DeLaCendres Member
since 1999-07-02
Posts 119Ohio |
*note: 1403 words.... "Leave him, Morth. He is nearly finished." "You know as well as I that it shall never be finished between our peoples. Our feud will not die until either we all kill each other or the world explodes, cutting everything short." "Always you have held such views. Has not the idea of peace crossed your thoughts, even once?" "In entire honesty, Aglyus, no it has not. Come now is not the time to talk. Those remaining of his clan are coming, I can feel them. There seems to be too many of them about tonight for the two of us alone to handle." "Yes. I can fell their approach also. Their numbers are between...five to seven of them." "Your senses have always been much more accurate than mine, Aglyus. I shall have to take your word on the matter. Let us go, before it is too late." "Very well, but I do not consider our conversation closed." "Fair enough. Lead on, Aglyus." "Ready? Do try to keep up, Morth." "Always." * As the night swallowed all traces of two speeding bats, a cry of mortal pain tore the city silence to tatters. All who heard the awful sound froze. Lovers on midnight strolls through the park forgot one another, hearing only the cry. Shuffling feet came to a sudden halt on the sidewalks as every person in hearing distance instantly forgot their intended destination, their legs refusing to continue, their minds not interested in the matter anyway. Pleasant dreams faded to black as hideous nightmares rushed in to take their places. Many awoke screaming in terror and fear, a cold sheet of sticky sweat enveloping them, threatening to suffocate their ragged panting breath. The death cry exploded upon the city zoo, silencing all the animals, save one. Bears, snakes, crocodiles, panthers, zebras, and monkeys ceased all movements and sounds. The wolves, however, erupted into a harmonious howl of mourning as their cousin died, the knowledge of it forcing their tales to seek refuge between their hind legs. As the cry died along with its owner, the wolves fell silent again, lovers continued their strolls with faint hearts, feet resumed cautious action, sleepy eyes once again fell closed, and the world resumed. Come morning, none would remember. Like a child seeking the last word, a single bat hanging from a loft of an abandoned building screeched, voicing the victory of its cousin. * Aglyus lay, unable to find sleep, upon his lush bed as the Complex around him remained quiet, most of the others long since given to slumber. Sunlight reached not into the safety of the Complex, being underground where the harmful rays could not exist. A single candle burned, illuminating no more than silhouettes and ghost images in his room. Flickering shadows played on the wall, forming pictures in Aglyus' mind of the night just past. Amorphous shapes formed themselves into dancing werewolves and bats dancing the dance of death which only one would complete. Aglyus' tormented mind substituted Morth and the dead werewolf into the imaginary dancing figures, twirling, twisting, writhing, and rolling about behind his eyelids on the movie screen of memory. Blood and fur fly about in Aglyus' thoughts, splattering upon walls of nothing, dripping to a nonexistent floor in clumps, forming noisome puddles of rank goo. His imagination raged so vividly he would almost swear he could smell the blood, that coppery stench, and the stink of rain soaked fur as it burned his nostrils. Aglyus forced his eyelids open, wanting to end the morbid home made movie. He could not fathom why the killing of the werewolf plagued him so, it was not uncommon. Uncountable numbers of werewolves have died at the hands of those of his race, and nearly as many of his kind have died at the hands of the werewolves. The feud had been burning for centuries on end, well before Aglyus' time. As with all such feuds, no one could remember exactly which spark had ignited the conflagration, yet no one took any action to stop its burning either. Morth, and those like him, simply killed, giving no thought to such petty concerns. They saw every werewolf as an enemy, and therefor must be destroyed before if has the chance to do the same to them. Not once would peace occupy time in their thoughts, only one course of action seemed to make any sense to Morth and the others: death, kill the werewolves. Much to Aglyus' chagrin, the Elders voiced no opinion in the matter. Should the Elders ever deign to command and end to the feud, even those so brutally devoted to the extinction of werewolves as Morth would toss aside their lust for death and put every effort henceforth to obtaining, then maintaining, the Elders' command of peace. Perhaps if one day Aglyus became an Elder, he would attempt to end the slaughter. Yet he was no fool. By then, any chance of ending the feud would be long gone and proposing such an idea would be looked down upon as blasphemy to his race, and they would have him executed, most likely by exposing him to the harsh daylight, leaving him there to allow his flesh to ignite like hellfire, consuming his entire body until nothing remained of him but a pile of ashes to be scattered to the four corners of the Earth by the winds. Time grew shorter with every passing moon...but thus far Aglyus could not uncover a plausible solution... * He snapped awake, bolting upright, his back screaming in protest as it erupted in loud cracks and pops. Sweat stung his eyes, cold and sticky, though the controlled temperature of the Complex was perfectly comfortable. He searched frantically about his room, searching for some hidden invader as of it had leapt from his dream into reality to stalk him. Such foolishness would be at other times unthinkable, but his horrid dream had not yet faded from his memory, still fresh and alive in Morth's mind. Stringy, short black hair hung in clumps and clusters before his eyes, damp for the sweat, concealing much from his frantic view. Brushing the wanton hair back from his forehead, Morth fell deathly still. Something was watching him, he could feel it. Unseen eyes crawled across his naked flesh, taking in his every movement and breath. Gooseflesh erupted all over Morth's already cold skin, fear gripping his throat. How anything so threatening could gain access into the Complex, he had no idea. Precautions were taken to prevent such monsters and enemies from invading this safe haven. The shadow moved, crouching, ready to pounce. Morth's mind shoved away the fear, preparing for battle. His muscles all went slack as Morth readied his body to move in any direction he should need. A plan was already formulating in his mind, examining the situation from every side, calculating all possibilities and creating various plans of action. Again the shadow moved, deepening its crouch. It would strike any second. The silent air melted away before its lunge. Lightning could not have been faster that the attacker, but Morth was gracefully quicker. Morth rolled to his left, off of his bed and toward the night stand. His fingers closed around the hilt of his trusted katana, striking out with it at the shadow before even touching the floor. The blade bit nothing but empty air. Morth landed on the floor and rolled away from the bed, readying his blade for another strike as he planted firmly on the cold floor, preparing for his own lunge. He was alone. Nothing. No intruder. Morth slowly inspected the room, covering every inch, corner and crevice for any sign of the intruder. Nothing. Darkness did not hinder his keen eyes, they were made for darkness, seeing as easily in it as human eyes saw in the light, perhaps even better. Remembering the training of his race, training provided intended for survival, Morth allowed his eyes to slide closed, allowed his mind to take control, allowing his other senses free reign. He reached out with his mind, trying to feel any other presence. Nothing. Inhaling the still air, he smelled for the intruder. Nothing. Protruding his tongue, Morth tasted the air, trying to detect the intruder's foulness. Nothing. Placing his fingers upon the floor and wall, he felt for any minute vibrations from the intruder. Nothing. He was alone. * ------------------ Tout s'en va, tout passe, l'eau coule, et le couer oublie. |
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| © Copyright 1999 Alain DeLaCendres - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
Interesting Alain...I must say though, that this seems far from finished. Perhaps you have more of the story? |
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Skyfyre Senior Member
since 1999-08-15
Posts 1906Sitting in Michael's Lap |
Good so far, but I agree with Christopher -- this wants more! I hope you'll be posting the rest soon.  --Kess You cannot choose the way of your death, but the path you choose will determine its own end. |
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
I liked this a lot! Although I must agree with the others that it seems unfinished.. It seems to sound a little like something out of Vampire: the Masquerade. Thanks for posting, I hope to see more of this!< !signature--> "Human pride sings a vengeful song, inspired by the times you've been walked on" - Creed - "What If" [This message has been edited by Dusk Treader (edited 12-05-1999).] |
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Terrina Kethryveris Member
since 1999-12-06
Posts 53USA |
I to agree with the others, this seems unfinsihed. Awaiting the next round. Terri Truth be known, fantasy is much more appealing than reality. |
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Alain DeLaCendres Member
since 1999-07-02
Posts 119Ohio |
No, this most definately is not finished...but you all seem to agree it is a good start...thanks. I hope to have more soon, I'll be sure to post it here first if you will all still have me. Again, thank you. Tout s'en va, tout passe, l'eau coule, et le couer oublie. |
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
Still have you? I for one would be very pleased to see the rest of this! I love occult tales, and this is looking real good! "Human pride sings a vengeful song, inspired by the times you've been walked on" - Creed - "What If" |
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