8 posts tagged “story”
i can't really remember much about these or why i wrote them. so just enjoy. n.n
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He lay curled up on the bed, his ear pressed against the swollen belly of his fiance. A hand gently stroked his hair.
"What's wrong Al?" he asked, setting his book of baby names aside. "You haven't said anything all day."
He remained still, listening to the movements of the little one inside. "I'm scared lovely." He opened his eyes, shifting his head just a bit to look up into those sleepy blue eyes.
"I've told you a thousand times. There's nothing to worry about. You'll be a great dad."
"That ain it..." he said, closing his eyes again and concentrating on the little creature.
Randy sighed, leaning back against the pillows. His hand fell from his lover's hair, and rested on his own chest. "Al... we've been through this. You've gotten me the best doctors, and made sure we've been eating like we're supposed to, you've taken care of everything around here so I don't get stressed." He laughed lightly when Al suddenly lifted his head and looked down at the rounded dome of flesh. "We're fine. You don't have to worry so much."
"I can't help it," he said, sitting up and putting his hands against his beloved's stomach. He'd been kicked right in the ear, which was quite unpleasant a feeling. "What if he ends up like I was?"
"She," Randy corrected, "will be perfectly healthy."
"Randy, we can't rule out the possiblity... I'm not exactly a perfect genetic specimen ye know... there's any number-a things that could go wrong."
"You're not going to let this go are you? -.-' I don't care if she has three heads and six arms. As long as she screams, eats, and shits like a healthy baby girl, she'll be fine."
"Stop jokin 'round. I'm tryin ta be serious 'ere."
Randy sighed again as Alabaster put his head back down against his stomach. "I know baby. But we've done everything we can do." He smiled softly as he stroked the mop of pink, black, and blue hair. "We'll take care of anything else when we get to it."
"I wanna name him Billy."
"No. We're naming her Rebbeca."
"Samuel William an that's the end-o it."
"Rebecca Ranae."
"Sammy Billy."
"Becca Ran."
"Billy!"
"Becca!"
"O.o What if it's twins?"
There was a long pause before they looked at each other and sighed. "We shouldn't have wanted it to be a suprise," they said together before looking down at the enormous belly of Randy.
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The days are cold. The nights are long. Here alone, without you by my side. I'm older now. My memory isn't what it used to be. I've come to rely on this journal of ours, the old orange spiral notebook you left behind that night you walked out of my life.
I'm dying. You would think that by now I would accept it. That I would lie here and let go of this life filled with such sorrow that my old feeble heart can no longer bear.
I wait for you still, with two glasses of wine on the table across the room. A candle now burned down to a mere nub sticking out the top of an old beer bottle. You'll be pleased to know the kids are doing fine. Alexia just had another child. A little girl. She looks just like her dad but without a penis.
Yeah, I thought you'd find that funny as hell.
You always do.
Kakurine brought her bunch today. You'd be proud of them. They've grown pretty big since the last time you saw them. The oldest, Nicholai, was just suspended from school a few days ago. He'd found Cross's old stash of explosives. He blew up the gym with them. He's coming to stay with us and finish school out on the island. Like I said, you'd be proud.
Cross still hasn't come. At least, that's what he wants me to think. I know he's been here, waiting with the others for the latest batch of test results. It's funny, how I can see things now. Much clearer than I had before. Even when they don't think I notice when they're here, I do. When I'm asleep, and they don't want to wake me, I can feel them. I can see them. Blurred shapes and faceless forms just outside my grasp.
Vash is dead. He shot himself just after I took ill. Just after our son came to us.
I hate you, Joe. Everything you've done to me, everything I let you do, has brought me to this moment. The moment I first saw you, it was my fall from grace. But it was well worth the downward spiral into self loathing and embittered hate. I've always respected you, more than even our silent understandings could have ever expressed...
Our son... I say our son because he is your son, and I have always been your loyal companion down Hell's road. Our son is doing things. Strange things. No doubt that if there comes a time when this scrap of paper ever reaches your hands, you will know whom and what I mean. There is evil in him, so dark and viral that not even my beloved sister could ever hope to save him. But I won't stop believing. I can't stop. You'll come back, just like you've always done, and you'll set things right. You'll make everything alright again.
This world is changed. I believe I'm the only one who can feel it. No one around has seemed to notice the differences between the world we knew and the world as it is now. I pray that my life's work endures until we may meet again, and I can pop you one in the jaw. You know you have it coming.
In my search for a way to bring you back to me, I have killed myself. In finding that which allows us to live forever, I have doomed myself to the miserable fate of mortality.
Laugh. I know you want to.
I don't want to die. But I know now that it is the only way that I will ever set my eyes upon you again. Only in death will we ever find the peace we dreamed of those days we spent on Violin Road.
My hand is trembling, the weight of this pen is too much to bear. I will put it down and close my eyes, and wait for you and Death, whichever may come first, to take me away from this miserable dream called life...
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"As you've no doubt learned by now, you have the power to call up a special friend at will."
He nodded. "The dragon."
"Yes, the dragon. Unfortunately for you, your's was the bad apple. There is one on every tree I suppose. Your dragon was Genki."
"Was?"
He nodded. "Yes. However, when you last called on Genki, your body could not handle it, so, I sent him for his punishment."
"What do you mean, punishment?"
He folded his hands together on his desk. "You see, I can't have someone as powerful as Genki roaming around Hades. It's bad for both business as well as our safety. He had been linked to your sister for so long that not even the healers of Paradise could cure him. For his sins against not only us, but against all of humanity, he must be punished. Unfortunately, you must be as well."
"WHAT!"
"Hold on. I pleaded your case at the last High Council, and they have agreed to nullify your entire record and give you a clean slate. However, there are a few conditions you must agree to first."
"What sort of 'conditions'?"
His face became like stone. "As Hades law dictates, the head of the SaintSinner knightly order must be of Shinigami clan descent. As it stands now, our friend is the only one that fits the description."
"You're the head of Hades now, change the law!"
"Don't you think I have tried. I've reformed as much as I can. But if I undo certain laws, the universe itself ceases to exist. It's actually an interesting idea, but I'd rather not try my luck until I've gotten a much better grasp on how to run things around here."
"So what do I have to do?"
"Since Hades was founded by my predecessor, Pluto, and the heads of both the Shinigami and Delacriox clans, it was decided that each would control different aspects of the afterlife based on their individual powers. The Delacroix are responsible for Paradise and all it's workings because they were highly rightious people. The Valar, my own clan, were responsible for the major decision making due to their heightened sense of justice."
"And the Shinigami?"
"Like the name says, gods of death. The Shinigami were responsible for who would die and come to Hades when. But, because they played a crucial role in ousting the pre-existing regime, they were also responsible for the defense of Hades as well. Thus, the SaintSinner knightly order was born. They protect while everyone else does their jobs. But, the clan leader had three sons, so he created different positions for them. The middle son would be placed in charge of the River Styx. The eldest would be the head of the SaintSinners, and the middle son was considered Death-in-Training."
"So he was, I mean, but that's not right."
"Death, the Boatman, and the head Knight were wiped out when Genki attacked Hades. Tem, or Tem's soul rather, was the middle son. But, now there is a conflict of interest. He cannot fulfill his Grim Reaper duties as well as keep an eye on Hades. That is where you come in."
"What am I supposed to do, watch a boat?"
He smiled. "No, I found something more fitting for you."
"What?"
"Since, as law dictates, the head of the SaintSinner order must be of Shinigami decent, the High Council has agreed to let you fill the position of Death. However, until your sins have been expunged completely, you will be working off a very strict list of names and descriptions of their subsequent deaths provided by both myself and the council. You will also have to wear an ankle bracelet that allows us to keep track of you. You make one slip, and they'll have my ass. Then I'll have your head mounted on my wall next to Voide's."
"I think I'd rather suffer eternal hellfire."
He leaned back in his chair. "That can be arranged."
He stroked his chin, thinking it over. "What makes you think I'll agree to this?"v "I knew you would say something like that."
"Really? So what ain't you tellin me?"
He waited a beat, then nodded. "I might as well tell you before you try to find out on your own," he said, then drew in a deep, slow breath. His face once more became like stone, and his voice was solid and even. "If you do not agree to this, your punishment is not your's alone."
"Yeah, Genki."
He shook his head. "No... Shortly after you died, Tem tried to kill himself. Suicide is the worst sin of all, even more severe than those you and Genki have committed. Even attempting it condems one to a fate worse than dying. Worse than suffering through eternity, reliving the same moment over and over again like Genki must."
His voice actually cracked when he asked his next question.
And his old rival answered solomnly. "In all realities, in all forms and versions, he will cease to exist. He will be expunged from history. There will be no trace left, at all, that he was even there. No one would remember him. No one would notice, nor care. His soul will return to one form, and will then fade into nothing. Not even we of the High Council will know he has come and gone. But your punishment... you would be forced to go on. Time and again, living and dying mortal life after mortal life unending. You would search, like all the different kinds of soulmates search, for him and never find him. And upon returning for your brief stay in Hades between lifetimes, you would remember. You alone would know the Truth. And it would drive you insane."
"But.... how? How do you know this! How is it even possible!" He slammed his fist into the arm of the chair, his nails digging so deep that even in this world of codes and numbers, he could feel the nerve endings in his hand scream in agony as his nails dug into the hot, sweaty flesh of his palm.
"It has happened once before."
"To who! When!"
He turned his face away, almost ashamed of what he knew. He felt horrible now, now that he had found the old scrolls burried in the rubble that was once the great palace overlooking Hades. "King Pluto was not the first to rule over Hades. He was forced to take the highest position because his predecessor went insane. Before the war that divided heaven, hell, and earth, the first ruler of Hades had raped and killed an angel, and to escape his fate, he became that which is most hated in all realms. I killed him. But... I did not have the skill, nor the power to do so. I... I was weak compared to what he had become."
"Voide."
"The part of him that once was human... My first arrow did not strike. My second, even Hiei believed had struck true. But now I know, it missed, and he took it and drove it into himself to stop the pain."
"Then how did he get to Hades! I thought you said the Valar clan was-"
"Delacroix blood with Valar namesake. It's complicated, I know... but by right he was the eldest of the clan, and he was therefore ruler. But he snapped. No one would believe him that the woman he had raped and murdered had even existed. Pluto was forced to punish him once it was discovered he had killed himself and not I. And so, he was sent back to the living world, where he returned in the form you know him as. Again and again, he must be born, killed, and reborn to endure the agony of his greatest sin."
"But if he was the one who comitted suicide, then why does she not exist?"
"She was an innocent soul. She had already lived her allotted number of lifetimes. Few as they were, she lived each one perfectly. No sins great enough to incur the wrath of the gods so to speak. She was mortal, with no connections to any otherworldy beings save for Voide. She had earned her reward in Paradise."
"Then how do you know all this. If he went insane because no one else knew of her..."
"Whichever fate you choose, you will find out soon enough on your own."
He thought on this a moment, then sighed. "I still don't get it. If she was so perfect and innocent, how is it that she's not remembered at all?"
He smiled. "Because she was always mortal. When mortals have reached the end of their earthly existence, the o either to the fields or to paradise. Upon entering paradise, the mortal is considered complete, and there is no further need of remembering them. They do not cease to exist completely. They only cease to matter to the rest of us otherworldy beings."
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"He is hailed as a saint among the sinners. But he is condemed to remain a sinner among saints. It is this paradox that gives strength to his resolve. As the head of the SaintSinner order, his blood must be shed to open the gate that you command. One thousand years and one day you will be apart, and together for just a brief series of moments before your duties call you back."
"Will our pain ever end?"
"You've changed so much since back then. I remember once you tried to steal my wife away from me. You raped, you pillaged, and you burned. You threw everything important in your life away to get whatever you wanted. But the one thing you wanted most, you can never have. That is just the way it has to be."
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"Soulmates, my friend, is a rather strange and complex idea. There are so many different sorts. Ones who find love and never let it go. Others who discover hate and let it guide them through the world. Each pair has a distinct aura about them. Love is warm and pure, while hate is cold and corrupt. My wife and I, what we had was heaven sent."
"...Tem and I..."
"Are like two alpha males trapped in the same small closet. Strange though, the aura you two share radiates more hate and rage than I have ever seen. But... you've formed a coexistance that sets you apart. He cannot live without your excessive beatings, and you cannot live without his rebellious and spiteful retalliations. I've never in all my lives seen such a thing. As cold and as stubborn as you both are, one cannot exist without the other.
"I had heard rumors, but I had never imagined that what the High Council had finally decided was true."
"What?"
"He was sent to earth to kill you. To bring you back to Hades where you were to be put on trial."
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I brushed the flour off the table after putting the pan in the oven. Wiping my hands on the frilly pink apron tied around my waist, I moved over to the stove and cracked a few eggs into the frying pan. I beat them as they cooked in the fatty juices left behind from the sausage and bacon I'd cooked before.
I had spent all morning in the kitchen, cleaning as I went along.
I heard the front door slam closed as I just finished setting the table with five plates and food.
I barely had enough time to set the frying pan back on the stove before little arms wrapped around my leg.
"Da! Is this enough?"
I pried the child from me and knelt down to her level as she presented me with a little bouquet of wildflowers. "Sophie... ye didn't take those from the back yard now did ye?"
She shook her head, her golden curls bouncing about her round, pale face. "Nuh uh," she said sweetly as she ran off to drag a chair to the cubbord. She climbed up and opened it, pulling out a large plastic cup. I filled it with water for her, and let her drop the flowers in before setting it in the center of the table.
"Da, do ya think mummy will like them?"
"Of course," I said as she snatched a piece of bacon from the platter. "Mummy will love it. Now run along an get washed up er yer mum'll 'ave a fit at us both fer ruinin yer Sundy best."
She hugged my leg, and I gave her a pat on the head before sending her on upstairs to wash up. I laughed, taking off my apron and hanging it back on the peg by the broom closet. I made myself more presentable as I ran around straightening the livingroom.
My darling Sophie ran back down stairs, her face damp and a few drops of water clinging to her curls.
"Is mummy and uncle Ryan here yet?" she said excitedly as Frank galloped down the stairs, his hind paws sliding on the hardwood floor as he tried to keep his balance in his new sneakers, rather, an old pair of Sophie's when she was a babe.
She ran to the window when she heard the sound of the mini-van's horn.
"They're here! They're here!" she shouted, clapping her hands and jumping up and down. I chased her out into the front yard.
"Keep yer voice down kidlet!" I called, but her squeals drowned me out. I waited at the end of the stone walkway leading to the front steps. First Ryan jumped out from the passenger side, his boyfriend James stepped out from the driver side.
My little green eyed angel had already pulled the side door open and her little sandal clad feet were hanging out. James went around back and astarted pulling the usual things out. Sophie ran around to help as Ryan aided her mum out of the van.
"You wipe that smirk off your face this instant Alabaster!"
I covered my mouth to stifle a chuckle. It had been a few days since I heard Randy's annoyed chastising. "This is the last time you hear me!" he snapped, stopping to pull the bright blue carrier out of the middle seat.
I had already moved aside for Sophie and James. Ryan locked up the van before hurrying inside.
"C'mon, breakfast is getting cold," I said, taking the carrier from him and peering down inside.
"You... Cooked?"
"Yeah. An it's edible. Sophie's been munchin all through mornin."
He laughed as I followed him inside. The jingles of the bells told me the cats were up and about at last. When I came into the kitchen, pulling out an extra chair to set the carrier on beside Randy, Sophie was loading the critter bowls with cat food, and Frank was already sorting through the biscuits to find the perfect one for himself.
I sat on the other side of the carrier, looking in upside down at the dark skinned sleeping baby with soft black fuzz on the top of his head. "What color eyes does he got?" I asked.
"Blue, of course," Ryan blurted out from across the table as he fixed my husband's plate. "Randy, tell him what the little brat did!"
I blinked, looking up at the glaring blond man. "What'd he do?" I asked.
"He gave the finger to every single female nurse that even just walked by. And he was screaming from the very second he opened his eyes." Randy happily thanked Ryan for the plate before whirling back around to me. "And this is the last time you are ever doing this to me. From this moment on, you're not allowed to touch me unless you've got a damn rubber on you hear me!"
James laughed, and Ryan snickered as I squared my jaw and glared right back. "I wouldn't 'ave ta if ye'd just take those damn pills!"
We went on like this off and on through breakfast, and I was suprised the little squealer slept through it all. Dead to the world like a log he was... he gets that from his Da.
James and I cleared the table after Randy and Ryan had gone upstairs to put little Aristotle in his crib. I'd just picked up the frying pan to dry and put away when there was a small tug at my pant leg.
I looked down to see Sophie staring up at me with her round green eyes wide in curiosity. "Da... what's a visectamy?"
I dropped the frying pan, a nice old heacy cast iron antique, right on my bare foot. James burst into laughter as I turned the air blue with my words. Sophie giggled and ran out of the kitchen shouting. "Mummy! Da said the four leter words again!"
I'm not exactly sure when it started... my transformation from shameless playboy to loving family man...
But I'm glad it happened.
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The masses gathered in the desert valley silenced as the thin, ancient figure appeared upon the hill, the rising moon at his back, and the setting sun to his war scarred face. He held up his arms, then began to speak.
Four sets of inhuman eyes watched the man, as he spoke to his people, no... not his people, for they did not belong to him. He belonged to them.
And those so far that could not hear his voice heard his whispers on the dry, shallow winds.
"Some call me the Messiah! Others call me the Deus Ex Machina! A monster! A priest! A General of God, and servant of Satan! But I am none of these things!" He paused, wiping his mouth with his bloodstained sleeve. "I am just a man! Flesh and Bone like many of you! Patched together with bits and pieces of scrap metal like the rest..."
He shook his head, and black eyes caught the shimmer of gray pervading perfect crimson by the moonlight. Blue orbs caught sight of a dark patch over the right eye... and those blue eyes wept dearly.
The man clenched a fist, then opened his palm to allow a few scatter of flames leap up towards the darkened heavens. "I have roamed the earth, searching, praying that I may find survivors of our great race! Blessed with gifts such as this I show you now from the moment of conception... be it in the womb or the fragile glass of a test tube..."
He paused again, putting out his flame and wiping his hand upon the tattered rags that clung to his thigh. He shook his head as he looked out on the sea of faces, his head tilted as his voice took on a note of pity. "There is no God... Where was Khrist your Savior, your Messiah, when the Antichrist rose to his throne and founded his kingdom through blood and murder? Where was Allah and his unbeatable calvary when the most powerful of empires fell?" He clenched his fist again. "Where was Buddha with his infinate wisdom to guide us out of this dark time! Where were Yahweh, Zeus, Jupiter, Thor, and the rest of the so called gods and goddesses during the time when Divine Intervention was needed most!"
He slammed his fist against his chest, over and over, repeating the words "In here. In here," each time. The masses went into an uproar, and when he raised his arms, they once more were silent.
"I have spent years fighting, and killing, and sinning in search of the Truth that will set me free... And I have found it!" He pointed a finger, and moved his hand slowly from one side of the face sea to the other. "We are not an army of God. We are not an army of Good. We are a species on the endangered list. We are the end result of thousands of years of evolution! There is no black, white, hispanic, and indian. There is no longer many tongues. We are One People, One Voice, united in the face of annihilation. Our faiths cannot, will not save us! WE are the only ones that can save us!"
When he unclenched his hand, there now sat in his palm a black, jeweled hilt. And he wrapped his long, calloused fingers around it, then raised the black steel blade high into the air. "We will not go quietly into the good night! Together, we will fight, and we will die! But we will do so with the dignity and honor that eons of evolution have bestowed upon us!"
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The graying pilot sat with his back to the camp, a small fire burning before him as he worked on patching up his torn boots.
"Have you come to beg forgiveness?... I give no absolutions."
"I come seeking the idiot who once envisioned a future not so bleak and bloody."
"Then you've come too far west my friend. That man lies cold in the catacombs up north."
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"Class, we have a new student joining us today."
One of the boys in the back leaned over to whisper into his brother's ear. "I hope it's not another one of those Frenchies."
"Yeah, if we get another one of those frilly shirt guys I think I'll die laughing."
"Come on, don't be shy dear."
Their joking stopped, and for an instant, the pair became silent while other students in the class whispered among themselves as the pale girl stepped into the room. She wore a black, tightly cinched longsleeved dress, with white lace around the bottom hem and cuffs. The high, stiff neck made her look almost like a victorian porcelin doll. Her white knee high lacy trimmed socks rose from shiny black dress shoes. She carried her bag in both hands before her, a small black bag. Her long, silky hair the color of the sun and pulled into two perfect tails at each side of her head. Her bangs perfectly curled to frame her face.
"Go on dear, introduce yourself."
She was quiet, her round green eyes looking over the faces of her new classmates. Then, when she saw two boys in the back row with their heads down, she smiled brightly and spoke innocently.
"My name is Nessa Rose Harrison-Willeim. Pleased to meet ye." She made a small curtesy, one hand releasing her bag to lift the skirts of her dress slightly as she put one foot back and bowed her head just a little.
"Nessa Rose joins us from Dublin, Ireland. Please make her feel welcome." Then, Ms. Richell turned to her with a kind smile. "Sit next to the boy you like the most. You will need to share books with one of the others until I can get you one."
"Graci," Nessa Rose said with another smile and a small curtsey before looking around. She walked slowly down the center aisle, and paused, looking around before shaking her head and walking the rest of the way to the back. She stopped between the two boys trying to hide their faces. "May I sit between these two?"
The teacher couldn't help but smile as she looked up. "Elijah, please move one seat over."
"Yes ma'am," he mumbled, picking up his books and moving to the empty seat next to him.
The two waited until the class was back to their lessons before muttering. "What in the hell are you doing here?" Eli growled.
"When did they let you out of prison?" his brother, Izekiel hissed.
"Mum and Da said this is one of the best schools," she replied as she snatched Zeke's book, then resumed taking her notes. Her back straight, her posture perfect, and her ankles crossed beneath her chair like a well mannered lady.
"I'll bet she burned her old school to the ground," Zeke hissed again.
"No, this time she probably threatened to kill her school counselor again."
She continued to smile innocently. "I'm right here boys. Please pay attention to the teacher."
The pair grumbled, and remained bitter through the remainder of the class.
Both boys were more than relieved when the lunch bell rang, and they stuffed their things into their bags as they tried to flee the room. However, both were caught by the backs of their shirts by two strong, yet delicate hands. "Show me around."
"Fuck you Nessie," Zeke said before he was yanked back hard.
"I said, show me around."
"Let go of me she demon!"
"That's no way to speak to a lady. If my mum heard you talk like that to me he'd tan yer hide for sure."
She let go abruptly when their teacher came to the door to leave. "Thank ya for making me most welcome in class today Ms. Richell."
"Aren't you a little dear. I'm sure your mother must be proud to have such a sweet girl."
"Mummy is very proud madamoiselle," she replied. But once the teacher was gone, she grabbed both boys by the shirt and dragged them out the door. "Yer going to show me around so I don't get lost again."
"Why should we, you two faced-"
"Zeke... maybe we should do what she wants... you remember the last time you said no?"
"What, it's not like she's hiding another cattle prod in her bag!" He managed to escape her grasp. "What's she gonna do, kick us in the nuts and run like we were three?"
Her polite, innocent smile turned into quite the wicked smirk. "Do as I say, or I'll grind up yer pet rabbits and feed them to ya when ya don't even suspect it." She laughed. "And for your information, I have mum's stun-gun in my bag today. Ya don't think my da would let his lit'le princess walk across town without anything to protect myself if I find a mugger do ya?"
Eli's blue eyes went wide, and he was more than happy to do as his cousin asked. She rewarded him with a few pieces of Laffy Taffy she'd brought from home and a pat on the head.
Zeke followed along behind them reluctantly, his hands in his pockets and his bookbag nice and secure on his back. He mumbled with each step, a lollipop stick hanging out of his mouth. "Stupid no good bubble headed two faced demon woman..."
"I heard that Izekiel! I'm telling uncle Tyler."
The remainder of the day, Zeke kept his trap shut whenever he saw the she-demon.
I've a new story I'm going to post on here in the near future.
WORKING TITLE: Sinners and Saints
RATING: R (for violence, language, cannibalism, and gory stuff.)
MISC. : Will contain but is not limited to the following - MPreg, demonic posession, sadomasochism, very strong language, zombies of a sort, general troublemaking, SEVERE ANGST, and dismemberment. If you can't handle that or don't want to see it, then don't read the story when it's posted. Thank you.
SUMMARY: Alabaster Willem is immortal. His unexpected lover is not. Al had come to terms with Sam's mortality long ago, and in fact was thankful for it. It gave him a reason to keep fighting his darker half. Over the years, Sam has asked time and again to be turned into the same thing as Al. An ageless, immortal non-flesh eating zombie. Time and again he was refused. But when Sam finally makes it a demand and not a question, the immortal Fallen finally gives in. The price? His own tormented soul.
i've been having these strange dreams the last 2 nights. these are what's come of them.
enjoy the fresh dribbles of Who-ish-ness. n.n
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It was a Thursday when it happened.
Then again, Earth had a thing about it being the end of the world on
Thursdays. There was a Saturday here or there, but generally, Thursday was always the
day.
Unfortunately for planet Earth, this particular Thursday was no false alarm.
It was not a near miss. It was, in all truth, the full scale event.
No one knew why it had happened. Actually, they had. But they could not
decide who had done it. It was fairly certain that no human had done it, rather, no
Earthling, had bombed the world of ape descended bipedal creatures. Oh no. The ones
who had devestated the planet Earth were from the skies above, or the skies to the left
and right and every possible angle that is both conceivable and non-conveivable in the
universe. That is, if one were to get technical about it.
But that Thursday morning, humanity was not concerned with the how or
the why or the who of it all. Oh no. They were far more concerned with simply
surviving it.
There were, of course, pockets of survivors. But for every one, there were
dozens more invaders of many different origins. Metal men marched the land, while
extraterrestrial pepperpots soared through the skies shooting their beams of bloodless
death and utter extermination.
And soldiers, short, baked potato-like killed everything in their path as they
stormed the cities.
And those too large and too slow to run away fell, only to rise again as a
costume skin which opened with a zipper at the forhead, just barely in the hairline.
One pocket of survivors were a group of five siblings. Two brothers, and
three sisters. Somehow, they had survived in a small, shabbily built room in a basement
of a house that was built into the side of a hill. The first among them was the younger
brother, and fourth sibling of the five.
He had run far and fast, a mesh bookbag strapped to his back which he had
held onto for dear life. Notebooks and papers now rendered useless. And among them,
what few treasures he posessed that he had returned to his home to reclaim in the last
fleeting moments of obscurity he had managed to create.
He was the first to find the basement, and he barricaded himself inside,
keeping silent. Keeping still. Hiding in the darkness in hopes that he may never be
found by the horrors of what existed outside.
Then, he heard a scraping of something on the cold cement floor. He held
his breath, and in the dim light that crept into the shabby room, there were two figures.
A tall, lanky figure, with another shorter, equally thin form.
"Shut the door, quickly," the taller one hissed, and the one in hiding slowly
let out his breath as the door was shut. His eyes had already adjusted to the darkness,
and he was following the vague shapes of the figures through the room.
"Where's the torch?" the taller one's companion hissed before a beam of
light broke the darkness, briefly flickering before becomming a steady stream of hope.
"Shine it here."
There was a rustling, and he watched as the light was cast on the taller one's
face. The younger sprang out of his hiding place, clinging to the taller man. "Jay!" he
exclaimed, then clamped a hand over his mouth, looking around. He was 15, but he felt
like he was a child, frightened and alone in this horrible, terrible place.
"Not so loud," hissed Jay, the taller. "How did you get here?"
"I ran."
"The whole way?"
He nodded. "The whole way. After I went back for my books."
"That was stupid. You should have come straight away. No stopping."
"Shhh..." the third whispered, dousing the light and creeping towards the
door. They heard muffled crying on the otherside of the door. The handle jiggled, but
the door didn't open.
"Please," someone on the other side. "Let us in. We know you're there."
"It's Doria," the youngest of the three snapped, feeling his way around in the
dark to find the door. He pushed the other out of the way and fumbled with the lock.
The door swung open and a pair fled into the darkness quickly. The door
was shut and locked back, and the beam of light was brought back up.
The smallest of the two new arrivals clung to the teenager's side, sobbing
into his shirt. He wrapped an arm around her, trying to console her as he led her
carefully through the now dimly lit dark to where he had hidden himself before.
The other three crowded together across the room, the tallest with his back
against the cinderblock wall and facing the door, keeping his big blue eyes peeled for
any sign of danger.
"We thought you were dead," the oldest, Jay said.
Doria, a ginger, shook her head. "No. She got sick at school, so I went to
pick her up early. We were clear across town when it happened. What about you two?
Anyone else?"
The third, the blonde, shook her head. "Just us, and Tem. We were in Wal
-Mart, and managed to hide out in a bathroom before making a break for it."
"If Lee hadn't managed to hotwire that BMW we never would have made it."
Doria nodded towards the chair in the corner where the younger two were
cuddled up, and the little girl's sobs had stopped for the moment.
"Says he ran the whole way."
Doria's eyes widened, not that the other two could see in such feeble light
anyway. "He ran? From Adairsville?"
"Didn't say from where. Just he ran," Jay said quietly.
"He's got Japanese first period. There's no way he could have made it here
from there on foot. Not this fast."
They shrugged. Jay handed Lee the flashlight and went to his younger
brother and youngest sister.
The five of them, a pocket, a literal handful, rode out the end of the world in
the basement of their childhood home. None of them dared to think about what had
happened to the house's new occupants before they had come running to the safest
place they could ever remember.
-------------------------
The others had laughed at him then. But they weren't laughing now. They
had called him insane for going back into the school to fetch his bag. They had called it
a stupid move. But that stupid move had provided them with things they needed to
survive for the time being.
Funny, the things you discover are quite useful only when they seem to be
the silliest things in the world at the time.
That day, seven years ago, had been the day that his friends had given him
back all of the books they'd borrowed from him. Silly things, those books. All works
of fiction, supposedly.
But out of the siblings, only two, only the brothers, realized they had truth to
them.
After all, history had a way of turning science fiction into science fact.
Who knew silly little novels about a time traveling alien and his various
friends would come in handy one day? Or that the notebooks filled with ideas and
fantasy blueprints for technology that didn't yet exist based off of a fun little tv show
could, in fact, be useful in trade and negotiations?
It was his bizzare facination with the strange and obscure that had kept him
alive all this time. As for his siblings... one he knew for sure was long since dead. He'd
killed her himself with his own bare hands.
He had no choice.
She had become a spy.
The other three... one of them he'd left behind five years ago. She'd found a
pocket of survivors, mostly children, and would not leave them. But he couldn't stay.
He had to move on. His youngest sister, Anne, had stayed with her.
And Jay...
He hoped against hope he was still alive somewhere, fighting the good fight
still. After all, it's what they had decided to do once they realized their... unique useless
knowledge could be the key to saving their people.
He sighed, flipping through the well-worn pages of his latest aquisition.
Printed on computer paper. Bound together by large, thick staples in a stack. Technical
specs of imaginary machines and impossible flying ships.
But in the aftermath of Invasion Day, as they'd come to call it, nothing was
impossible anymore. If the world hadn't ended, he guessed he may have made it to
MIT after all. Or maybe, he'd still be at home, eating potato chips and watching his
favorite television series... The irony of that gave him a small grin as he flipped through
the pages still.
He heard a noise, and quickly shoved the fan-made manual into his pack
with his other few key pieces of survival guides. His other hand reached for his pocket,
feeling inside for something, anything that may help him. His fingers found a yo-yo. It
would have to do.
"Show yourself!" he snapped. "By order of Article 16 of the Shadow
Proclimation I demand parlay! State your purpose and planet of origin!"
That piece of once fictional script had become the single most useful phrase
right after "Where is the toilet?" in any number of languages. Not that it had always
worked. Not all of the monsters he'd come across in the last seven years even knew
what he was talking about. Certainly, the zombies didn't know. They didn't know much
of anything for that matter.
He felt the yo-yo, and wished he'd thought to grab something more
substantial from the last Pocket he'd found. At least they were somewhat armed to
defend themselves, unlike him at the moment.
He heard the noise again, and cursed himself as he pulled his hand out of his
pocket. It was closer now, and it didn't sound friendly. It didn't even sound human. He
knew those sounds. Metal clanging against cement.
He hitched up his pack on his shoulder and bolted as fast as he could.
Cover wouldn't do. They would find him. He had to run, and keep running. He
couldn't stop until he was either dead or out of breath. Preferably out of breath, and
even then he'd push himself still further.
Cybermen were nothing he needed to deal with while unarmed. Especially
while unarmed. And now, his trek through the city was fruitless. He couldn't head for
the Pocket he'd heard was there. They might not even still be alive. And if they were...
he intended to keep it that way, and not lead the invaders straight to them.
-----------------------
"Hey you!"
He jumped out of hiding, his yo-yo in hand, the string hooked to his middle
finger. The monster didn't even turn. Not that he had expected it to do so. He dropped
the yo-yo, letting it fall to the end of its string and wind back up before giving it a
swing. It bounced off the back of the undead thing's head and came back to him.
It turned. That time he got its attention as it slowly ambled it's way around.
"Get out of here now!" he shouted, flinging the yo-yo again as the children
scrambled to escape.
"God, I hate your type," he said, taking a step back but keeping his eyes on
the children until they were out of sight. He flung the yo-yo one more time before the
string broke and the small yellow toy bounced off and away. "Always hungry. Never
stopping long enough to savor the people you eat. You never know, you might like
dark meat better than white meat. Or maybe a bit of ginger is more your style?"
He found he couldn't back away any more. His back pressed against a brick
wall. He searched his pockets as the monster loomed closer. He found nothing he
could use to defend himself. He cursed himself for never thinking this far ahead.
And certainly his manuals and books wouldn't help him now.
He spotted a twisted rod, a clump of concrete stuck on the end. As the
monster lunged, he ducked under it's arms and rolled, grabbing the rod on his way. It
was heavier than he expected. Though, he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. It
took two hands to hold it up, and whistled. The monster was slow moving. It must
have been a first generation of the horrid creatures then. Though how it had survived
this long was a mystery.
And his fatal swing of the concrete tipped rod at its head would ensure that
such a thing remained a mystery.
The monster went down, and he gave the rod a heave, slamming it down
against the skull twice more before he was satisfied that it wouldn't be getting back up.
But he couldn't leave it. No. Should a wild animal, or, God forbid another of
the creatures happen upon the carcass, the mutated disease would spread much like in
those old Resident Evil games and movies he'd been so fond of as a teenager.
No, there was only one solution.
Extermination by fire.
"Spending too much damn time with those Daleks," he muttered, shaking his
head as he dug around in his pockets for a matchbook.
---------------------------------------
He's been running for days. He can't remember if there was a time when he
hadn't been running. That time was so long ago. An entire lifetime away, it felt like.
He'd found another book, one he hadn't had before. Unlike all of the others,
he didn't devour it. No, this one he savored, like a fine wine. The Story of Martha. He
read it, and he sympathized with the fictional heroine. But in the back of his mind, that
same little voice chimed away at him. She may not have been fictional after all.
He had to hope that somewhere, out there in the universe was a man in a
blue box that would come save them. After all, his enemies in that science fiction
universe were real. Oh they certainly were real, and had become a mainstay on the
planet Earth for three years shy of a decade now. Why then, wouldn't He exist, too?
He ran on, a new yo-yo in his pocket. A new set of matches he'd scrounged
up at what was once a titty bar in its glory days so long ago. He had to get there by
nightfall. He had to make it to the next Pocket. He had to be like the great Martha
Jones. And hopefully... his fool's mission would pay off.
-------------------------------------
"They took him! They took Marley!"
"Who?" she said, trying to get the boy to focus on her. She was hardly
much older than he was, but she'd been a rock for the Pocket since their leaders had
been taken. Or killed. No one could decide on which. Some claimed both simply as a
compromise.
"The metal men!"
She looked over the boy's shoulder to the man standing in the back of the
room, rolling a cigarette. He'd been lucky enough to find an empty store, blocked off
by debris and left alone for much of the post Invasion Day world.
The look in her eyes told him he wouldn't get to enjoy the cigarette he was
rolling for himself. He sealed the roll of tobacco and paper and put it to his lips. He
used one of the matches from his new book of them to light the end and inhale.
He hadn't expected to run into her here. Another woman, perhaps, but not
her. She tended to stay off the grid, like himself. Only for her, it was for far different
reasons. It was the only way she could keep alive. He had it easy compared to her. At
least he didn't have to worry about being locked up in a camp, and shot up with god
knows what. He could sleep easy knowing if he was ever captured, he'd be killed.
But Anne... her fate would never be as kind as his own.
He watched as she managed to calm the boy before moving off to another
of the children. That's all they were, really. Left alone by adults who dissapeared in the
night. After a while, she managed to get them occupied with other things. Sorting out
the latest spoils she'd brought for them. Food, clothes, random things.
She came to him as he rolled another cigarette. "Those things'll kill you."
"Rather these kill me than the alternative," he said coldly.
She nodded. Once, when she was younger, she would have argued over his
nasty, self-destructive habit. But these days, she prayed he lived long enough for the
cigarettes to kill him. At least then, he'd still get the last laugh out of spite to those
creatures that came to their world.
He rolled a few more, putting them into a small, dented and scratched tin
that said Altoids on the top. He put one to his lips, and lit it up. He inhaled deeply.
"What's the word?"
"Metal men is all they keep saying," she said. "They seem to be leaving the
children alone for the most part."
"Of course," he said. "In the past, they'd take everyone. But upgraded
humans from children wouldn't function as well. Let the halflings mature, then take
them."
She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest as she glanced back at the
teens and the children. "At least it's not the pepperpots," she said, trying to smile.
But he didn't return her humor.
"There's something else," she said, her tone dropping lower. "Jay was here."
"What?!" he exclaimed, nearly swallowing his cigarette.
She nodded. "One of the older girls," she said. "When the adults first
started dissapearing, she said a man came and looked after them. He tried to help them
fight back. They managed to hold up in an abandoned department store. He took off to
scout the area, and never came back."
"Any leads?"
She sighed sadly. He easily read the expression on her face. It was one he'd
seen hundreds of times before on hundreds of other faces. "Tell me the truth, Anne,"
he said.
Slowly, she nodded and turned her eyes up to him. "They think it was the
clone soldiers that took him. But they can't be sure."
He growled. Sontarans. He HATED the entire bastard clone race. If he
could wipe them out in one go, he wouldn't hessitate to do it. Though, Sontarans
weren't known to take prisoners. Not unless they were after something, or planned to
take them back to their homeworld.
"You can't be thinking what I think you're thinking."
"We have to rescue him."
"It might be exactly what they want. Besides, we need to-"
"We'll deal with the Cyberman problem now, and then I'll head out to rescue
Jay."
She put a hand on her older brother's shoulder. "Not alone. And we'll need
help. Doria's millitiamen will come in handy."
Hello one and all. Here's a post of nothing but teasers for you; excerpts from my main epic project spanning just over half a decade. All of these excerpts are from the book series I am writing (PROJECT 8-13)
-----------------------------------
Excerpt from P8-13: ORIGINS
The Academy
"Hey! Hurry up or you’ll be late!" she called down the hallway.
"Just a minute!"
She looked down at her watch and turned on her heel, her brown pleated skirt spinning around her to catch up. She started to quickly walk down the hall towards the gymnasium at the end.
"I said in a minute!" the young man cried, slamming his locker closed and chasing after her. His dark brown sneakers squeaked on the tiles when he caught up with her. He slid some, nearly losing his balance as he tried to stop.
"If you keep it up, the sargent will have you running laps after classes for a month."
"Don’t be so uptight! I was just-"
"Whatever," she said with a sigh, reaching out an arm to push open the double doors of the gymnasium.
"Hey, we still on for tonight?"
"Ash, I told you, I’ve got to study for my calculus final. If I fail that, I’ll never make first rank," she said. He gave her a mock-sad look and she laughed some. "Alright, fine. But I’m bringing my books. I can’t afford another F."
He leaned in to give her a kiss, but she turned her face so he could only find his mark on her cheek.
"Delgado! Hembrooke! This isn’t playtime! Change out!" boomed a voice.
"Later," she said, running off to one of the side doors. He lingered there a moment, and moved only as he had been barked at a second time.
When he opened the shower room door, a lanky red head was on the other side. "Watch it, kid!" Ash snapped, pushing past him into the locker room. The boy looked over his shoulder at the blond one briefly before crossing the gym to stand beside the instructor.
"What do you want?"
"Sir! Private first class Pike, sir!" he said, standing at attention and giving a brief salute.
"Impressive," the old sargent said, stroking his chin and glancing down at his clipboard. "Where did you transfer in from, private?"
"Sir, I transferred from the KMAA, sir!" he replied, staring straight ahead.
"Kicklighter Memorial, eh?" the sargent said, giving a small nod and marking off on his clipboard. "I am Drill Sargent Van Ingen. I will be your physical education instructor. You will call me Sir, is that clear private?"
"Sir, yes sir!" he barked back, his eyes wandering some to glance at some of his new fellow students. He cracked a small smile when he saw some of their reactions to what was transpiring.
"Wow..." one of the students said, leaning to whisper into Delgado’s ear. "KMAA, isn’t that where you wanted to go next year?"
"Yeah," she hissed back, straightening up when two-toned orbs locked on her for a second before passing her on. "He looks so young though. And what’s he doing in a place like this?"
"Maybe his family moved, and he had to come with."
"But they have dorms. He could have stayed in one of those, couldn’t he?" she asked. But she couldn’t wait for an answer as Sgt. Van Ingen made his way closer to the class to check off the roll.
"Hembrooke!" he barked.
There was no response.
"Hembrooke! I know your scrawny ass is here! Speak up boy!"
"Right back here old man!" Ash barked back, raising a hand.
Pike narrowed his eyes, glancing back at the other boy before turning back to look ahead. This was going to be a rather... interesting experience.
---
"Hey, wait up!" she called, chasing after him down the hall.
He stopped, and waited for her to catch up with him. "What do you want?" he asked when she slowed to a stop.
"What? I just wanted to talk, that’s all," she said, smiling at him despite the suspicious look he tossed her way before he started walking again.
"I have nothing to talk about," he replied coldly.
"Well," she said, never giving up her cheerful disposition. "I overheard you talking with the sargent in gym. You’re from Kicklighter Memorial right?"
"Yeah," he mumbled.
"I’ve heard it’s a pretty rough place. Only the best of the best can get in. I’ve been trying to get into that school for over a year."
"You wouldn’t be able to handle it," he said, tugging on the strap of his bag. "It’s not like this pansy place."
Her smile started to fade a little, but she wouldn’t give up. "What’s KMAA like? What should I do to prepare for the entrance exams?"
His pace started to slow a little, until he came to a stop in front of a chemistry lab. "It’s kill or be killed in that school," he said, a note of sadness to his voice.
"Oh? You mean the curriculum is really challenging, right?"
"Yeah... right," he said. "This is me."
She looked up at the door, and nodded. "Sorry to keep you," she said, turning a little pink. "I’m Christina, by the way," she said when he started to turn away from her. "What’s your name? Or should I just call you Pike then?"
"Temmothy," he said, a brief smile breaking through his stone cold face before he went into the laboratory.
She stared after him a moment longer, nearly jumping in suprise when the bell rang for the next period. She glanced at her watch, then turned on her heel quickly. Her skirt billowed out behind her as she ran to try and beat the late bell.
---
"He’s so strange," she said, popping a french fry in her mouth. "I mean, in Chem lab today, he almost blew up our station! Everyone knows you don’t mix sulfur with-"
"That’s nothing!" another exclaimed, talking over the dark haired girl. "In Algebra, he actually tried to explain to Prof. Kingsley that the book was wrong, and he could prove it using nothing but addition and subtraction!"
"What a show off!"
"I bet all the cadets at Kicklighter are like him. Fucking bastards, think they’re better than us because they go to a private school."
She listened to them closely, glancing up when Ashton slammed his tray on the table beside her. He dropped down on the bench and wrapped his arm around her waist with a growl. "What’s wrong Ash?"
"Fucking twat!" he growled again. "Just wait. Tonight, we’ll fucking get his ass. Give him a real Tokugawa welcome."
"Ashton, you’re not saying what I think you’re saying..."
"Damn right I am! Nobody humiliates me like that and gets away with it!" he snapped, slamming his fist on the table so hard it knocked over a few bottles of water further down.
She sighed. "Ash, he’s probably just trying to prove himself, that’s all. Remember when you transferred in and didn’t know anybody. You and Mike used to go around trying to be the best at everything because you thought people would like you."
"Hey," he said. "I am the best at everything. And everybody knows it."
She laughed a little, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. "Well, obviously not everyone if he’s got you this bent out of shape about it."
"Knock it off Chris!" he barked. The chattering at the table suddenly went silent as a boy walked by with his head down.
A girl stuck out her leg to trip him only to be surprised when he merely hopped over it without so much as a glance up. Christina turned her head to see red hair settle back down as he picked up his pace and dissapeared near the table of nerds.
---
Days had passed since the arrival of the new student. Rumors flew this way and that about the boy from Kicklighter Memorial and how his mere presence infuriated the school’s top students. The fact did not escape the faculty, who had decided to stand back and let the situation play out.
It was no surprise then what had happened in the boy’s dormitory late one night when the lights went out.
Boys and some girls who had snuck out of their rooms were gathering up outside the dorm.
------------------------------------------------------------
EXCERPT FROM P8-13 BOOK 4- CHAPTER 17
note: this is in the "raw" form, meaning it's the original version before edits and rewrites.
Act Three; Session Seventeen: Dance of the Dragon (Body and Soul)
Place of silence, moving shadows
Crimson eyes are strangely gleaming in the darkness
I stood still, the wind billowing in my cloak, blowing it off kilter, to the side so that it flapped in the direction I held my bow ready. He stood there, across the shadowed field from me. Dressed mockingly in white with those large, grotesque leathery wings outstetched behind him. blood drenched hands turned claws. That long blue hair matted down with sweat and grime and gore. Those gaping black eyes so deep, I could see why his now dead lover had lost himself in them. They reminded me sharply of the bitch Naomi I had fucked and then killed with my own hands.
"You come boy? I'd thought you would turn tail and try to run... just like your mother had..." he said. His voice, a mixture of growl and screams of pain. The souls he'd taken. That was what I heard in his voice... the screams of many angels who'd once guarded this monstrosity's sleep. The screams of his lover.
"Genki!" I shouted above the howling of the wind, pulling an arrow from the quiver at my back; my arm still outstetched in the direction of the wind, bow clentched tightly in my fist. "Today, what I warned shall come to pass! I only pray my father is looking down on us now from Heaven to see you to your end!"
Even from here, I could see those blood caked lips smile that sinister smirk. He reached into the air, pulling an all to familar sword from nothingness. Dark was the blade, forged in secret by its maker, though blackened by the twisted mind of its former weilder. He spread his wings, dragons's wings, and seemed to skim over the very ground.
The brittle grass making a soft swish sound at his feet as I leapt to the side, pulling back the bowstring as instinctively as I hunger.
Spill blood on me... 'till it fills my body
I watched it fly, and bounce from his thick skin as he pivoted left, holding the sword so tightly in his fists I could see his white knuckles as he swung at me. I leaped into the air, high. My cloak flaring up behind me as if my own set of secret wings. Again I pulled an arrow from my quiver and put it to the string, even as he tore the air after me.
He held the sword out from his body, baring those many sharp teeth. "I hope you scream, just like your whore of a mother!" he shouted as I released another arrow, this one catching in his shoulder.
He swung wide as I fell back down to my feet. "My mother, how dare you speak of her in such a way demon!"
"Stupid little boy..." he said, that ever sinister smile. He landed on his feet, his wings flapping twice, large gusts of gray powder, dust, filling the air. He rached up and jerked my arrow from his shoulder and tossed it to the side. "That's all your mother was good for... And she fit so well on me too, much better than that slut friend of her's. You know the one... red hair, about your height..."
He had raped her. The realization hit me full in the face with his laughs. He'd not only killed her... but he'd had her in ways only my father was entitled. Ways that none but him should ever know... My heart felt heavy, my mind a frenzy.
Madness starting to awake
Playful desire starving of blood
Get down limitless night
I hated him. I demanded nothing short of his blood on my hands; the scent of his death on this bitter wind; the red river that the brittle grass demanded flow this day. I placed my father's bow on the grass, followed by my quiver. These were useless now against this beast.
'Choices Damien, that's all it ever really is. A series of thoughts, that all lead to one choice of fate.'
My father's voice from that long ago day i'd first laid eyes on him.... and the moment just before his own demise... echoed in my head even now. Even while this creature shouted his useless taunts. "You're not going home now are you boy? Now when we're having so much fun!"
I unfastened the brooch that held my cloak in place, tossing it aside to lay over my father's bow and quiver. "Choices..." I said to myself, closing my eyes slowly as I felt my arm burn with that power. Every particle of my whole felt alive, electrified as that mark, the same mark my father before me bore for so long, rose to the surface.
I looked to him, my fists clenched so tightly that I felt my nails digging into the sensitive skin of my palm. The wind shifted, and I with it. "I am going to beat it out of you one way or another!" I screamed, the stench of him rising in my face as my fist met jaw, like that night so long ago on the roof, like that night he'd still had his human soul. He staggered back, then came at me with sword raised in one hand and his claw coming at my throat.
I pulled back just in time, or so I thought. The butt of the sword came crashing down on my head, sending my mind for a jolt as I greeted the dirt up close and personal. Something that rarely, if ever, happens to me.
He grabbed me by my hair and jerked me up. "Look boy. Look and see what's left of your little family," that scream growl voice said to me, turning my head.
Slowly my eyes focused. Horror struck my heart. Three crucifixes, all covered with thorns and wires and vines, the wood jagged and splintered, faded with age. Three bodies. Three victims... far left a small child. I could even see from this distance the stuffed rabbit torn and its stuffing scattered at her feet. That innocent face twisted in an eternal mask of pain.
The last I had seen her, she was smiling up at me, those big blue eyes wide with the warmth of safety once the fighting was over that day I gave this monster a second chance.
That scream growl taunted me again, turning my head slowly to the right. There, his wrists pinned to the wood by what I knew to be his own twin blades. Blood dried and crusted over his nude body. Feet driven through with nails. Black hair with blood red roots a tange as those once lavender blue eyes now gaped open as black and as dark as the demon who made me look upon him. His neck chaffed with a long forgotten rope burn, wrighted down by the large rock on the other end of that hemp length.
"He loved you..." I whispered as he jerked me up, though not to my feet. My scalp felt as if it were about to be torn clean from my skull.
"He was nothing but a free and easy fuck," he snarled, his breath stank of old blood, vodka, and dog shit.
"That's not true... Joe loved him... still loves him..."
He pulled tighter and forced me to look at the one I'd been trying to avoid, not wanting to see her this way. Not wanting the face of my memory to bare the marks of his violent desire, his own personal touch to her perfection...
Her face to the sky, two scarlet tears, freshly made. Her arms gashed and bleeding profusely still. Wings, now little more than stubs at her back. Her body, heavily bruised and held tightly by invisible strings; strings so fine that should they be pulled just right, her naked form would fall to the ground in pieces.
My tourtured senses.
Beast of blood
The desire gushing out of the cold body is wet with red blood.
"I'll kill you..." I whispered, my arm burning again. He released me, pounding his boot into my side. I rolled, and he came at me again. And again I rolled through the brittle gray grass.
"You'll what boy! You'll what! I didn't quite hear what you said!"
I picked myself up, teetering on the brink of falling back down again. "I said..." I spat; blood on the grass, which drank it up eagerly. "I said I'LL KILL YOU!" I screamed, throwing my head back, my face to the sky in an uncontrollable howl of rage. That back of my tunic burst, the remainder falling to my feet as for the first time I felt the wings of my minor angelic heratige tearing their way out of my skin. White feathers slicked with blood, my blood. "I'LL KILL YOU!" I repeated, as I watched him ascend, then perch himself above my mother's cross, the center cross.
He bent down and licked the side of her face before poising his hand above her eyes, claws just inches above her soft eyelids, ready to dig in.
I grabbed my father's bow once more, and another arrow. The third from my quiver during this deathmatch of sorts.
"So the baby bird finally learned to fly. Nice trick Damien... now what will you do with them?" he laughed, standing to his feet on the top of that crooked crucifix.
Beast of blood
Along with the scream from the death throes
Sharp claws are shining brighter
He took to the air, and I after him; bowstring pulled taut and ready to fire again. He came at me, brandishing that sword once more. I dove beneath him, the dragon now full on my arm. It seemed to slither down my wrist, each claw at one of my fingers, the head at my thumb as tail curled around and dug into my wrist.
He came again, screaming his rage even as the dragon slithered into the arrow I held, it's tail tipped with blood, my blood, the same blood that ran through my father's veins, my mother's veins.
"Little boy... it's time to die!" his mouth was wide open, all those rows of needle fine teeth gnashing at the air as I felt the sword skewer me, driving into my shoulder and through the otherside...and I released the arrow at that same moment.
We fell together, his claws tearing at my skin, my leather clad feet kicking at his thick skinned body to push him away, to end his ceaseless tearing of my flesh.
No fear, no sadness
Lofty life is tasting loneliness and eternity
I snaked my arm down carefully, pulling that small stunted blade from my boot. The arrow in his neck, deep in that leathery flesh, contorted and rotting around the shaft. "I said I'd kill you..." I looked deep into those black eyes, and for a moment I thought I saw in them the man he had been; a spark of old Joe the bartender with the fast car and the never ending thirst for sex.
He snarled at me again, still trying to claw the meat from my bones. "You killed and raped my mother... hell... I'll just toss Temmothy in there as a bonus since again he was the first victim."
I'd lowered the blade to one of his wrists, slicing that putrid rotting skin with ease. A blue claw rose from it before burrying itself back in again. I tossed the knife to the ground and spat on him. There was no need to bleed him dry now... let the dragon take him to his end.
And near by the target with no more life
Red drops on my greedy lips
Falls down on the freezing ground
Get down limitless night
Beast of blood
I'd managed to move from him, and stagger to where the three crucifixes stood. The last sight I saw before my eyes closed, battle weary, was my mother looking down on me with the smile I'd longed to have shine on me for so long.
"Damien," she said softly, as if paying her own wounds no heed. "My beautiful little boy..."
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EXCERPT FROM P8-13 SEQUEL RECLAIMATION - BOOK 2, CHAPTER 16
note: this is still in it's "raw" form, before edits and re-writes
Part Sixteen: Pain Taker
[dream][Falco's Journal]
[dream]
[dream]
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EXCERPT FROM P-18 SEQUEL RECLAIMATION - BOOK 4, INTERLUDE
note: this is in it's "raw" form before edits and revisions.
Interlude Three: The Doll