ArcherG
10-29-2012, 10:51 AM
Hi all,
This is my first post; I'm new here. I typically write politically-infused, dystopian fiction, but since Halloween is just around the corner, I decided to take a break and write a horror piece. It is a work in progress, having only been started a few days ago. I wanted to share some of it with you here. I hope you enjoy.
Regards,
Archer
PHASES
Prologue
She turned back for one final wink and a wave of her daintily gloved hand, before stepping out of the gentleman’s carriage and onto Rue Chartres. She was not proud of her profession, in fact she detested it; in another life, she had been a proper lady with a good husband and a beautiful family. That distant, fading memory was but a vague ember now. The War had taken her husband, the famine had taken her sons and daughters, and after Sherman’s fires took her home, she fled west with nothing but the clothes on her back.
She made it as far as the muddy, decadent streets of the Crescent City by way of the rails before stopping to rest her weary bones. That first night, the city had welcomed her into its beckoning arms and provided for her more than anyone else. She had walked the streets of the Quarter since that night in the winter of ‘64. The Quarter had aged her beyond her years though, or perhaps it was the green muse she had turned to, like an old friend, to dull her senses and help her forget her antebellum memories and plantation dreams.
She never believed a man should be the property of another, and she even welcomed Lincoln’s Proclamation, but she never understood why they insisted on the harsh punishments that crushed the good people that were left. When there was no flour, they had only hate to fill their stomachs with. Had enough people not starved already? Had old Dixie not suffered her share?
Tonight was particularly difficult for her; the man had been a perfect gentleman. The way he had treated her had caused the memories of her husband to come flooding back to the forefront. Try as she might, she could not erase the image of him smiling at her in his CSA grays before riding away, never to return. She had never cried with one of her patrons before, but tonight she could not contain her sorrow. She turned south off of Chartres until she reached New Levee Street, on the banks of the Mississippi. She stared into the heavy blanket of fog that hung low over the river and the surrounding city. She retrieved her pot metal flask and gulped the strong, licorice-like Absinthe before throwing the empty container into the murky water. She looked out across the river at the crimson moon that hung low on the horizon. It seemed so close that she might stretch out her arm and touch it with the tips of her fingers. She buried her head in her hands as she wept for what her life had become.
She heard a faint rustle somewhere behind her and turned to see who was there, but there was no one. A cold, sepulchral draft stirred her loose bangs and sent a chill across her body. The deep, hollow tones of a church bell could be heard somewhere in the distance. It’s just the Absinthe; pull yourself together, she thought to herself.
A long shadow passed across her by the light of the blood moon and several dim street lamps.
“Hello?” She meekly called out to the night, but no one answered.
She retrieved a slender, pepper-box revolver from her garter belt and shakily pointed it into the fog-filled blackness.
Again, she heard the movement somewhere in the darkness, this time on her other side. As she spun the revolver in the direction of the sound, she called out again.
“Who’s there?”
This time, a low, baneful snarl answered from somewhere nearby.
She turned and ran as fast as she could along Levee Street, the lights of the Square a distant beacon in the night. There would be someone there that could help her; there had to be.
Two blocks to the Square.
A malevolent moan chased after her from somewhere along the levee, followed by a deep, hellish growl. She shrieked as she heard the sound and pushed forward with every fiber in her body. An errant cock-crow could be heard somewhere deep within the city. If only he was right; oh God, if only he was right.
One block to the Square
The heavy footfalls behind her grew louder with every stride. As the wind shifted directions, a foul, musky stench filled the air and assaulted her nostrils. This was the moment; despite her terror, she spun in the soggy street and swung the revolver in a wide arc. As her eyes locked with the creatures’, her heart pounded as if it might burst out of her chest. Her knees weakened and threatened to give out at any moment. Despite the horror that gripped her, she did not relent; this was not her first Rebel stand on the dark, city streets. She pulled the heavy trigger and felt the recoil as her arm was pushed up and back. She watched the beasts’ head tilt back as a macabre, crimson display of blood and matted fur erupted from its brow. She watched the beast emit a low, guttural gurgle and tumble backwards onto the filthy alley. Her heart raced as she turned and fled towards the faintly glowing plaza.
The Square was empty when she burst forth from the night and into its irradiated domain. With the revolver still in her hand, she tilted her head back spun in a circle as she wailed for help. After realizing the persistence of the terrified woman, several windows began to glow around the perimeter of the Square. An annoyed man pushed open a distant, second-story window and leaned out to address the fearful woman in the street below.
“What’s your business, woman?”
“There’s something out here, please let me in!”
“Go home; you’ve had enough to drink!”
“Please, no; you don’t understand!”
“If you don’t stop with the noise, I’ll have the constable come and drag you away!”
“Send for him, please! But please let me in first, someone!”
The window slammed shut as she continued to cry for help.
The low, guttural growl from across the village green only served to push her further into a frenzied state. She shakily turned to face her fate and leveled the revolver at the beast. The creature snarled and then began to gallop at a full-stride across the plaza. Mud shook from its matted fur with each additional leap and bound. She fired her final round at the monstrosity, hitting it firmly in the shoulder, but it only served to further anger the demon.
Twenty feet from its prey, it leapt through the air and tackled her like a weightless, rag doll. Her desperate cries in the green went unnoticed, or ignored, by the people in the surrounding buildings. She screamed in agony as it ripped and tore at her body, shredding it in mere moments. The beast flung its head skyward and bayed a fiendish song, before continuing with its savagery. A faint, near-imperceptible howl could be heard in reply, somewhere deep in the sinister darkness beyond the city.
An exhausted, young deputy rounded the corner and happened upon the carnal scene in the square. The woman’s ghost was gone, but the beast continued to menace her body.
“Halt!”
He fired two successive rounds from his 1860 Army and struck the creature twice in the back of its head. The beast turned and snarled at the officer, but he only further entrenched himself in his position and struck the beast twice again in its chest. The brute recoiled as the .44 caliber rounds exploded against its chest, but did not retreat from the area. It batted the mutilated remains with a heavy paw before turning and charging the officer.
The raging blur was swiftly covering the distance between itself and the man with every passing moment. The deputy began to sidestep the blood-soaked monster, forcing it to reevaluate its trajectory, while continually delivering a steady stream of lead along the narrow tunnel that separated man and beast. Two rounds into the dire exchange of animal and mortal, the deputy was forced to swiftly transition from his spent, service revolver to his smaller, secondary Model 1. The diminutive .22 shorts had no noticeable effect on the creature, so the officer was forced to aim for its wide, yellow eyes.
As the creature reached the man, it leapt and spread its front arm wide so that it might gore the man with its razor-like claws. The man dropped low to the ground the moment before impact and aimed high; the round exploded from the barrel of the Model 1 and connected perfectly with the brute’s right, ocular cavity. The malevolent eye burst like a flattened grape, spraying vile fluid throughout the air.
The sharp claws slashed the man’s shoulder to the bone and sent him reeling across the cobblestone sidewalk. The man rolled to his feet and turned to run, while lose flesh dangled from his blood-soaked arm. The creature shrieked in agony from the wound and spun furiously in the direction of the man to devour him whole. The man cried out for help as he staggered down the avenue, while clutching his gored shoulder.
The beast leapt once again towards the man, but was violently rebuked in midair. The massive, two-inch, lead ball from the short-barreled musketoon of a second deputy tore through flesh and bone, as it robbed the beast of its will to destroy. The musketoon clattered on the cobblestone walk below as the second deputy stepped out from darkness of the adjacent alley and transitioned to his herculean, double-barreled, LeMat revolver. He thrust the revolver into the thick, night air in front of him, searching for his adversary, but the thing was gone.
The second officer rushed to the aid of his fallen brother who was beginning to go into shock, either from his wounds or from the realization of what he had encountered. He cradled the man’s head in his arms and strived to sooth him as he kept repeating, “Stay with me, it’s going to be alright.”
“Stay with me; help’s on the way.”
“Stay with me, brother.”
More Here (http://acotwf.blogspot.com/p/phases.html)
This is my first post; I'm new here. I typically write politically-infused, dystopian fiction, but since Halloween is just around the corner, I decided to take a break and write a horror piece. It is a work in progress, having only been started a few days ago. I wanted to share some of it with you here. I hope you enjoy.
Regards,
Archer
PHASES
Prologue
She turned back for one final wink and a wave of her daintily gloved hand, before stepping out of the gentleman’s carriage and onto Rue Chartres. She was not proud of her profession, in fact she detested it; in another life, she had been a proper lady with a good husband and a beautiful family. That distant, fading memory was but a vague ember now. The War had taken her husband, the famine had taken her sons and daughters, and after Sherman’s fires took her home, she fled west with nothing but the clothes on her back.
She made it as far as the muddy, decadent streets of the Crescent City by way of the rails before stopping to rest her weary bones. That first night, the city had welcomed her into its beckoning arms and provided for her more than anyone else. She had walked the streets of the Quarter since that night in the winter of ‘64. The Quarter had aged her beyond her years though, or perhaps it was the green muse she had turned to, like an old friend, to dull her senses and help her forget her antebellum memories and plantation dreams.
She never believed a man should be the property of another, and she even welcomed Lincoln’s Proclamation, but she never understood why they insisted on the harsh punishments that crushed the good people that were left. When there was no flour, they had only hate to fill their stomachs with. Had enough people not starved already? Had old Dixie not suffered her share?
Tonight was particularly difficult for her; the man had been a perfect gentleman. The way he had treated her had caused the memories of her husband to come flooding back to the forefront. Try as she might, she could not erase the image of him smiling at her in his CSA grays before riding away, never to return. She had never cried with one of her patrons before, but tonight she could not contain her sorrow. She turned south off of Chartres until she reached New Levee Street, on the banks of the Mississippi. She stared into the heavy blanket of fog that hung low over the river and the surrounding city. She retrieved her pot metal flask and gulped the strong, licorice-like Absinthe before throwing the empty container into the murky water. She looked out across the river at the crimson moon that hung low on the horizon. It seemed so close that she might stretch out her arm and touch it with the tips of her fingers. She buried her head in her hands as she wept for what her life had become.
She heard a faint rustle somewhere behind her and turned to see who was there, but there was no one. A cold, sepulchral draft stirred her loose bangs and sent a chill across her body. The deep, hollow tones of a church bell could be heard somewhere in the distance. It’s just the Absinthe; pull yourself together, she thought to herself.
A long shadow passed across her by the light of the blood moon and several dim street lamps.
“Hello?” She meekly called out to the night, but no one answered.
She retrieved a slender, pepper-box revolver from her garter belt and shakily pointed it into the fog-filled blackness.
Again, she heard the movement somewhere in the darkness, this time on her other side. As she spun the revolver in the direction of the sound, she called out again.
“Who’s there?”
This time, a low, baneful snarl answered from somewhere nearby.
She turned and ran as fast as she could along Levee Street, the lights of the Square a distant beacon in the night. There would be someone there that could help her; there had to be.
Two blocks to the Square.
A malevolent moan chased after her from somewhere along the levee, followed by a deep, hellish growl. She shrieked as she heard the sound and pushed forward with every fiber in her body. An errant cock-crow could be heard somewhere deep within the city. If only he was right; oh God, if only he was right.
One block to the Square
The heavy footfalls behind her grew louder with every stride. As the wind shifted directions, a foul, musky stench filled the air and assaulted her nostrils. This was the moment; despite her terror, she spun in the soggy street and swung the revolver in a wide arc. As her eyes locked with the creatures’, her heart pounded as if it might burst out of her chest. Her knees weakened and threatened to give out at any moment. Despite the horror that gripped her, she did not relent; this was not her first Rebel stand on the dark, city streets. She pulled the heavy trigger and felt the recoil as her arm was pushed up and back. She watched the beasts’ head tilt back as a macabre, crimson display of blood and matted fur erupted from its brow. She watched the beast emit a low, guttural gurgle and tumble backwards onto the filthy alley. Her heart raced as she turned and fled towards the faintly glowing plaza.
The Square was empty when she burst forth from the night and into its irradiated domain. With the revolver still in her hand, she tilted her head back spun in a circle as she wailed for help. After realizing the persistence of the terrified woman, several windows began to glow around the perimeter of the Square. An annoyed man pushed open a distant, second-story window and leaned out to address the fearful woman in the street below.
“What’s your business, woman?”
“There’s something out here, please let me in!”
“Go home; you’ve had enough to drink!”
“Please, no; you don’t understand!”
“If you don’t stop with the noise, I’ll have the constable come and drag you away!”
“Send for him, please! But please let me in first, someone!”
The window slammed shut as she continued to cry for help.
The low, guttural growl from across the village green only served to push her further into a frenzied state. She shakily turned to face her fate and leveled the revolver at the beast. The creature snarled and then began to gallop at a full-stride across the plaza. Mud shook from its matted fur with each additional leap and bound. She fired her final round at the monstrosity, hitting it firmly in the shoulder, but it only served to further anger the demon.
Twenty feet from its prey, it leapt through the air and tackled her like a weightless, rag doll. Her desperate cries in the green went unnoticed, or ignored, by the people in the surrounding buildings. She screamed in agony as it ripped and tore at her body, shredding it in mere moments. The beast flung its head skyward and bayed a fiendish song, before continuing with its savagery. A faint, near-imperceptible howl could be heard in reply, somewhere deep in the sinister darkness beyond the city.
An exhausted, young deputy rounded the corner and happened upon the carnal scene in the square. The woman’s ghost was gone, but the beast continued to menace her body.
“Halt!”
He fired two successive rounds from his 1860 Army and struck the creature twice in the back of its head. The beast turned and snarled at the officer, but he only further entrenched himself in his position and struck the beast twice again in its chest. The brute recoiled as the .44 caliber rounds exploded against its chest, but did not retreat from the area. It batted the mutilated remains with a heavy paw before turning and charging the officer.
The raging blur was swiftly covering the distance between itself and the man with every passing moment. The deputy began to sidestep the blood-soaked monster, forcing it to reevaluate its trajectory, while continually delivering a steady stream of lead along the narrow tunnel that separated man and beast. Two rounds into the dire exchange of animal and mortal, the deputy was forced to swiftly transition from his spent, service revolver to his smaller, secondary Model 1. The diminutive .22 shorts had no noticeable effect on the creature, so the officer was forced to aim for its wide, yellow eyes.
As the creature reached the man, it leapt and spread its front arm wide so that it might gore the man with its razor-like claws. The man dropped low to the ground the moment before impact and aimed high; the round exploded from the barrel of the Model 1 and connected perfectly with the brute’s right, ocular cavity. The malevolent eye burst like a flattened grape, spraying vile fluid throughout the air.
The sharp claws slashed the man’s shoulder to the bone and sent him reeling across the cobblestone sidewalk. The man rolled to his feet and turned to run, while lose flesh dangled from his blood-soaked arm. The creature shrieked in agony from the wound and spun furiously in the direction of the man to devour him whole. The man cried out for help as he staggered down the avenue, while clutching his gored shoulder.
The beast leapt once again towards the man, but was violently rebuked in midair. The massive, two-inch, lead ball from the short-barreled musketoon of a second deputy tore through flesh and bone, as it robbed the beast of its will to destroy. The musketoon clattered on the cobblestone walk below as the second deputy stepped out from darkness of the adjacent alley and transitioned to his herculean, double-barreled, LeMat revolver. He thrust the revolver into the thick, night air in front of him, searching for his adversary, but the thing was gone.
The second officer rushed to the aid of his fallen brother who was beginning to go into shock, either from his wounds or from the realization of what he had encountered. He cradled the man’s head in his arms and strived to sooth him as he kept repeating, “Stay with me, it’s going to be alright.”
“Stay with me; help’s on the way.”
“Stay with me, brother.”
More Here (http://acotwf.blogspot.com/p/phases.html)