Archive for August, 2009

CAUGHT IN THE KEEPER’S WEB: By Joshua Day

Thursday, August 27th, 2009

He welcomes the night’s blanket of darkness with an open mind, sitting alone watching the ember of his cigarette smolder down to a tar stained filter.  Empty bottles lying around tell of the days welcoming, attempting to forget the loneliness in his heart. 

The ocean beckons to him with its thunderous calls, while hypnotic pulls tempt him in promising sweet satisfaction.  With a kiss the wind passes him on its way by keeping his body at bay, but his intoxicated mind continues to wonder. Millions of celestial angels only belittle him in his insignificant existence.  Frogs sing to the night continually awaiting a kiss from their princess to set them free.  An ironic smile crosses his face for he also awaits the same kiss.  Sadly, a star falls and is reverenced with a wish.  How he wishes he could hold her tonight. 
 
As if awakened by the wish the darkness grows silent and a demon spreads its wings.  The stars seem to cry out in an awe struck horror as the demon takes flight.  Sorrow seems to be the air under its wings, pain seems to give it speed, and death seems to give it life. 
 
The demon appears only as a shadow in front of the man as another bottle drops to the ground adding to the existing collection.  The demon tucks its wings and everything goes still. The air seems dead, lifeless at its presence.  The light from the cigarette reveals its ghost like skin.  The embers dance off its demonic eyes in such a fashion any man would have no choice but to be captivated by them.  While it speaks, its voice comes only as a whisper, trapped within a melancholy melody. 
 
Transfixed in the demon’s words, lost in its endless melody, the man began to cry.  “I can take you to her tonight.”
 
To his poor Emily? The same Emily that was found swinging from tree on Christmas morning, her face as white as the snow that lay upon her shoulders. Such a cold passing into the fires of hell. Her eyes too bright to be trapped in such darkness. A place too far for him to follow.
 
The man finds himself upon his feet even though he knew not how. With every step an angel weeps as he moves toward the demon’s hand. Above another star falls but there is no wish, not this time. To his right a moth is caught in its keeper’s web, never again to know the freedom of flight and the man moves forward. The frogs below, in their jealousy, serenade him to the beat of his racing heart and yet he moves closer.

Ocean air burns his lungs in desperate warning but he’s almost there.
 
His trembling hand sweeps the water from his eyes because for this he’ll want to see.

The demon’s touch is cold, cold as his Emily. Its breath is sweet and oddly familiar. His eyes move upward toward his demon’s face, the last face he will ever see. No words can find the man’s tongue, nor will he use them if they do. For in that moment, the demon smiles the smile of his Emily.

©2009 Joshua Day

CORRUPTION: By Lori Titus

Wednesday, August 26th, 2009

 

The Marradith Ryder Series Part 35

 Leighton ran towards Marradith.

He felt her now, so close. The screaming in his head kept going. The armies of dead cried out for their revenge. Was Caroline laughing? Did she hate him so much?

“Ashes, ashes,” he cried, gasping for breath. “There came a girl in the wood. Lover, brother, father, which will kill her first?”

He knew that Justin was behind him, but he did not care. He felt the hot breath of the werewolf on the back of his neck. It was too late to stop him from reaching his reward.

What was the blood of a Lamia like, he wondered? Vampires claimed it was bitter. But he had never known of a Wolf that had drank of one. If her blood were strong enough to fix him, as he believed it could, he would turn her. Make her into a werewolf like himself.

It would be possible to have her; the ultimate replacement to Caroline.

He tried to smile, but his half contorted snout could not move.

I will leave nothing of her for you, Son, he thought bitterly.

Justin’s claws tore into his back just then. Leighton howled in pain. He crawled on hands and knees as Justin’s claws ripped into his back. He cried blasphemies. When relief was so close, what kind of angry god would deny what belonged to him?

“JUSTIN. NO! STOP!”

Leighton heard her voice. He looked up, and for the first time, saw his great-granddaughter in the flesh.

Justin snorted, and then let out a growl. But to Leighton’s shock he felt the Wolf climb off of him. He was angry, but he obeyed. His green eyes were like fire.

It was raining.  Leighton only realized this because he saw that her face and hair were wet.

She kneeled before him, taking his face in her hands. Her touch was gentle. He sighed, finding it hard to breathe. There was the echo of his Caroline in her, but also of his own blood. A little of his Mother, perhaps. Her soft mouth moved with words in the primal language, so low that he barely heard them.

Such a relief to know that his Marradith was indeed real, and not a figment of his imagination. He mouthed the words along with her. His addled mind recognized the rhythm long before the meaning became clear.

“I wish you into the stillness. May darkness bind you. May the words no longer form into being from your mouth. Struggle no more. Cry no more.”

It was a prayer. A prayer from the very oldest of Wolves, from long before men learned to worship. How did this child know such things? His heart swelled with paternal pride. He had created her, after all. His life made hers possible.

His eyes filled with tears. He’d never felt anything like this before.

How gentle she is, and not scared of me at all, he thought. The screaming in his head was gone.

He trembled, even as he struggled to put his arms around her.

She kissed his forehead.

And then he felt it; the energy that poured from her hands: electricity.

****

Marradith felt the energy moving through her body. She heard Leighton’s screams as it flowed into him. But this time was different than with Will or Scott.

She fell into a trance. And she could not let go of him.

She found herself in a place full of darkness. Somehow she could see.

Leighton stood on a patch of something that looked like quicksand. From the mire below, creatures with yawning mouths and silver teeth stretched out their steel arms to him.

He tried to scream, but no longer had any voice. He was lowered deep into the quicksand, swallowed by those who awaited their revenge. The last thing she saw were his eyes, which bled a black substance like tar. His mouth opened wide, full of corruption. And then he was gone.

 

©2009 Artwork by Raul Fariahttp://www.fariagraphics.com

©2009 Story by Lori Titus

Lori Titus’s The Marradith Ryder Series appears each Wednesday on Flashes in the Dark. She is the short story editor for Sonar4 ezine. Her stories have appeared on MicroHorror, Shadeworks, and The Daily Tourniquet. Her first anthology of horror stories, Tales for the Dark, is scheduled for release in 2010.