Hmmm... I think I'm going to post a short (very short) bit of a story I'm playing with... I feel more secure, I guess, since two others were brave enough to put theirs up first. Anyway, it isn't exactly my best work, and I definately need to put a lot more effortt into it, but I would kind of like some feedback...
...................................................................................
An aching, pulsing pain, throbbing in tune with a stumbling heart. Blood tracing skin pale and smooth, a vivid river of shadows on a sunlit plain long deserted. The voices were screaming again in his head, their mad cackling scraping against the inside of his skull like a metal file, telling him all their blackest secrets and lies. His vision began to darken, lost in a sea of red.
Ven fell slowly to his knees. Around him, the last vestiges of a shattered night rushed to embrace the land a final time before fleeing the coming dawn. But even the night’s darkness at its prime failed to cover the wasteland before him.
Blood, still vibrantly crimson in the blackness, gently lapped against his legs, soaking through his tattered jeans to coat his skin in red gore. Just ahead of him, he could make out the sharp, clean lines of a body. It lay on its back, face broken and savaged, floating in a pool of its own fluids. A mass of brown hair streamed behind it, matted and tangled, the shredded remains of a life destroyed.
Rede.
Ven forced the name from his mind. No, that was not Rede, that pale, twisted thing before him. Rede was strong and healthy and so very brilliantly alive. Rede was… Ven began to vomit, the thick liquid creeping slowly through his fingers as he tried desperately to hold it back. It floated on top of the bloody water, brown and meaty, irrefutable evidence to the horrors of the night. He blinked frantically to clear the tears that burned in his eyes, turning his head quickly from side to side as common sense returned to him in a rush. It might still be out there, waiting.
Shakily, he stood, hiccupping. He avoided looking in the direction of Rede’s corpse, lest he be sick again, and told himself that the other dim shapes he saw were not the bodies of friends, but bits of swamp and dead tree. The acrid taste of bile scalded his tongue, telling him otherwise. He tried to ignore it.
But you can’t. It’s there. And so are Brutus, and Thed, and Maya. See that arm there…?
“Shut up,” he whispered. A wicked laugh, careening wildly from skull to throat to mouth, teased its way from between his lips. It tasted of sickness and obscenity, of hot and fetid flesh left to rot beneath a sun forever at its peak.
Can you smell it? It is still hot and alive, salty… It is sweet, so sweet… kneel and drink of life, taste…
Ven began to run…
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
**I'm sorry... Effort, not Effortt
Wow, this is horribly gruesome. I was drawn in by the specific details and the well-crafted sense of horror Ven feels.
I have to say, though, I hope this isn't one of those stories that begins with the end because I don't know if I'd keep reading if I knew that all the characters I'd come to love over the course of the story/novel would end up chewed up into bite-size morsels and scattered around a barren plain. But if Ven goes on to find new friends and seek vengeance, I'd read it. For sure.
Might need to have a puke bucket nearby, though, if you keep writing such vivid descriptions of horrific scenes. :)
Very cool! I enjoy the vividness of the horrible scene, as twisted as that makes me sound, but really, it is skill to make dark scenes such as this come alive and grope at your stomach in such a great way.
Post a Comment