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*I've re-posted this story because I noticed that the previous one was complete *and total shit. On that note, I also noticed that I received one review. So, I'll be completely clear this time: CRITICIZE MY STORY! Empty Night, I'll be
*honest. I hate fanfiction. No offense to any of you. I only wrote this because it came to mind and it only vaguely resembles the Dresden Files. The only reason I posted it here, is because I WANT TO BE CRITICIZED. Hell, I'll even take
*flames. Just don't give me the same retarded crap. I'm sick of everybody telling me my writing is good or, if they don't like it, not their type of stuff. I want to know how I can make it BETTER, not how much you care about not
*hurting my 'feelings'. Just tell me what's wrong so I can improve, CHRIST!
*/
Cryptic Hungers
They locked me in a tomb. A mausoleum. A place for the dead, or soon to be deceased, in my own twisted case. They threw me in to rot by the dead of their clan. My prison was black as pitch, but for the rays of the moon drifting down from a singular, minuscule window above the door. My stay in this hell was no more than four days, alone, but for the corpses in my company. It wasn't long before I realized the bodies around me were not placed neatly on shelves, but haphazardly thrown on the floor, left to fade into oblivion. My captors may not have been human, but their dead didn't deserve this damnable resting place.
The filthy wretches that threw me in here did something wrong. They weren't supposed to dispose of me here, or anywhere, so they kept their deed a secret. When I saw the moon rise for the third time in my hellish prison, the door was wrenched open. I was taken by surprise and fell still in my fear. Had my captors returned to deliver the final nail in my coffin? Or had another of their ilk discovered their ploy and decided to deal with me in their own fashion?
The 'beasts' that opened the door bore the familiar shape of their kind. Stripped of their disguises, they were far from human. Their bodies were bulbous, obese, and grotesque. A twisted and monstrous mockery of a bat's head sat atop their shoulders, long and vile tongues hanging free and dripping with their narcotic venom. The ends of their fingers were elongated into deadly claws, a compliment to their vicious fangs. They moved with a fluidity and ease beyond their misshapen forms as they carried one of their dead between them. They hurled their dead kinsmen into the tomb without pause nor prayer, narrowly missing my frozen form. Even these fearsome beings fear the resting place of their dead, as they delivered their charge and departed without so much as glancing towards its landing.
I'll never forget the corpse I had narrowly avoided. The body had been charred beyond recognition, its chest being nothing more than charred bone and grilled flesh. It looked as if the creature had been obliterated by a river of lava or a powerful flame, hot enough to melt steel. The wounds had not been festering for long, yet the stench of them permeated the room. It was unbearable; sitting among the long deceased and the recently passed, waiting to join them in a hell that most certainly smelled similar to this. I shudder to think of my time with the burn victim, but I was far from rational thought or coherence. I had not eaten in days and the moisture in my body was long gone. All I felt was the violent hunger in my stomach, the sharp burning of my arid throat, and the maddening pounding which reverberated about my head. The odor of my new friend's incinerated flesh was twisted and misinterpreted in my tortured mind. The corpse, that disgusting, rotten, misshapen, and burnt carcass, began to smell less like hell and more like my own monstrous heaven.
I can not remember much of what happened next, a fact I am thankful for, even to this day. I awoke the following morning to a scene from nightmare. The cadavers that had surrounded me the night before were now ransacked, strewn across the floor in unnatural positions. This realization was quickly overshadowed by a far more horrifying comprehension; each and every corpse had been stripped of its flesh, leaving their stark white bones in plain view. The deed had been done in a terrible hurry, with fanatical energy; for a large portion of the bones were filled with jagged, uneven bite marks. Fear gripped my racing heart. I believed that some new form of monster, something I had not seen before, something beyond my fears and nightmares had come in the night, devouring the corpses of my cellmates, but leaving my own pathetic form for a later date.
My strength returned to me in a flash as I bolted, crawling backwards, to the closest wall, in a vain attempt to protect my vulnerable spine. I reached the wall and looked, frantically, for any sign of the beast that had not finished me in my sleep. In my searching, I discovered hand prints, red with the blood left from the recently burned creature. I attempted to follow the marks with my eyes, from where they ended at one of the few bodies that still held flesh. The prints seemed to travel across the ground, as if the daemon had been crawling on all four of its limbs, rather than walking upon two; to save its arms for eviscerating its victims.
The tracks lead backwards from the carcass, I realized this moments before discovering the final print; no more than a foot from my cowering form. I spun, in fear, to search for some previously unnoticed passage the beast may be waiting in. It was in this moment of terror, as I forced myself from the wall with my arms, that the truth revealed itself. There, on the wall, where I had placed my hand to accelerate my escape, lay a blood red shape. My hand print was on the wall and previously on the floor.
In a daze of awakening, I placed my hand over the mark on the wall and slipped downward into a deep, but restless, sleep, curled upon myself, hand pressed firmly to the evidence of my horrible deed. When I awakened once more, night had fallen.
My head spun with feverish anxiety and my ears were assaulted by the repeating call of a blue jay upon the window sill. It shone in the light of the moon, mocking me with its harsh and jeering cry. The very sight of it filled my mind with a burning rage. It enjoyed the freedom I was deprived of. It knew I was dying. Its eyes pierced me and laughed at my ultimate misfortune. I was gone from this world; all I desired was the death of this colorful beast for obtaining the freedom I so craved.
I stalked among the bones I had been so terrified to see, eyes locked upon my prey. It called once more, a loud and painful shriek, eye fixed solely on my shadowed form. The noise shook my mind to the core. My vision went black. I leaped in rage, hands out-stretched and grasping for my avian foe. When my thoughts cleared, the blue jay was clenched in my left hand, the sill in my right.
How could that be? The window was twelve feet off the ground, if not more, but I had ascended to it effortlessly. I held the poor bird in my hand, still alive, as I contemplated the implications of this new development. I knew that I could reach the window, but it would be impossible to squeeze through. As the moon rose higher in the sky, I grew weary and released the tiny bird. It flew once more to the window and into the night. No more my foe nor my prey, having learned for itself the dangers of mocking me.
I was awakened again before the sunrise by a smell I could not place. It was... amazing. It smelled like ambrosia and the nectar of the gods. In a frenzy of hungry, I once more leaped to the window and inhaled the intoxicating aroma. Voices came from below, speaking in hushed and urgent tones. I knew then, that the clan had come to dump another fallen member. I slipped silently to the ground and positioned myself in the shadow of the door, waiting for my moment of triumph. I had to be free. The smell grew stronger with each passing second, filling my nose and wrapping my brain in a fog. I would find the source of that aroma and I needed to devour it whole.
They opened the door slowly. Too slowly. My heart pounded in my chest, racing in a staccato rhythm, begging to tear free from my body. My memory of the event is tortured, at best, and missing all together, at worst. I can recall my patience faltering and seeing, not feeling, myself rip the door from its hinges. I can still taste the meat of my first victim as I sank my teeth into his throat, ripping and tearing his flesh away in a frenzy. The second one screamed, or screeched, in ungodly terror. I can't place the noise that escaped it's mouth, but the distortion of his face and the look of unbridled fear conveyed his emotion well enough.
I filled my stomach, no longer ashamed or scared by my infernal hunger. I threw what was left of their mangled corpses back into my prison and limped away in contempt. I was careless, one of them had bitten my leg in the struggle and I could feel the effects of its venom coursing through my limb. The cold spread quickly and my leg became weaker and weaker. My movements became sluggish and my vision blurred. I staggered as my foot gave way beneath me. The venom had spread quickly through my body and I lacked the strength even to catch myself as I fell. My decent left me sprawled over a large gravestone, inches away from a reflecting pool.
My strength returned for a moment and I was overcome with the foreign desire to see my own reflection. I hadn't been in the tomb for long, yet my memory of it seemed to stretch for ages. How had I changed in my sepulcher prison? I looked at my reflection, numbed, not just by the venom in my blood, but by the image staring back at me from the water. I fled into the night, shocked and alarmed by what I'd seen. In my reflection was not the man I was before, but a monster, drenched in blood, with midnight black skin, teeth more jagged and more terrifying than the vilest of demons', and sharp, predatory eyes that glared back at me in the night, glowing a bright, soulless, blue...
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*In case you didn't read what I wrote up there: CRITICIZE THIS. Did I use the wrong word? Did I forget a comma or add a comma? Did my writing style leave you bored and restless? TELL ME, DAMN IT.
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