By Ben Marroquin
StoryMask.com

The puddle of blood tainted vomit stuck to the side of her face like a tangy paste, maybe I’m dead, she thought to herself.

Buzzing droned around her, greeting her to consciousness. She felt tugging on her fingers and abdomen, as butterfly like sensations fluttered inside her. Jolts of pain caused her to finally move her stiff limbs and open her eyes. Small blurry forms scuttled away, melding into the shadows of the old abandoned brick building. A mass of flies took flight as she got to her knees and sat there, her eyes adjusting to the dimness around her.

What the hell, she thought to herself taking in her surroundings; puddles of blood, empty syringes, and a bloody tarp adorned the cold hard concrete ground. Her stomach quivered as a feeling of emptiness overcame her. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out as she looked down at her body; her chest was split wide open. She tried to close her chest with gnawed hands, but couldn’t find the strength. Seeing light, blood-covered rats scurried out of her wounded chest, hit the ground with a wet plops and disappeared into the shadows.

This can’t be happening… can’t be real… it’s a dream, a nightmare, she thought desperately. A gentle fluttering sound followed by a soft light caused her to look up into the rafters of the old building with wet eyes. I must be dead, she thought. There was just no other explanation for what her teary eyes were seeing.

Perched on an old wooden rafter above was a softly glowing ethereal being. Her first glimpse told her it was some strange type of owl, but now that she had overcome the initial shock, her eyes were able to better see. The being had feathery hair, a strong athletic body, alien like legs, and taloned feet and hands. Her majestic wings, for she had a womanly shape, wrapped round her body. The being stared down at her through large dark inky eyes as soft melodious sounds emanated from the beings small black beak like lips, the world around her melted till only the softly pulsing being remained, capturing her full attention.

A blinding flash of light struck her, filling her vision with sunspots, sunspots filled with images of her past. The sunspots spiraled in front of her, then came streaming into her eyes as her memory came flooding back:

The evening was dark with storm clouds as Bella Reed took refuge in the old abandoned brick building, warming herself by a small fire that she started in an old rusted bucket. A far away look clouded her eyes as she stared at the fire, remembering a time not long ago when she lived a normal life like other teenagers, before she ran away almost a year ago. The sound of a clanking can and a whispered curse snapped her out of her trance, making her aware of her surroundings. Two figures could be seen lurking just outside the circle of firelight, causing her heart to jackrabbit.

“Chase, Fingers, Rayne… is that you?” Bella asked rising to her feet, moving her dark hair out of her eyes. She began inching closer to the darkened doorway. For 6 months she had been running from town to town, always running farther away from home, from her painful past; till she finally ended up in the city of Paradise and made her home in this abandoned building. A building already occupied by other runaways that, after several months time, she got to know and began to grow comfortable with, secure. But these shadowy figures didn’t respond the way she had hoped, instead they chuckled as they parted, both taking different routes to box her in.

Their laughter sounded familiar, but her instincts told her something was wrong, so she burst to the doorway. Her stomach exploded in pain as her breath left her gasping and her knees buckled, dropping her to the concrete ground. She vomited as another figure stepped out from the darkness of the doorway holding an old aluminum bat over his shoulder.

Bella felt hands grab her ankles as the other two began pulling her back into the room, her face dragged through her vomit. “Dammit Chase! You didn’t need to hit her,” the girl said angrily as she dropped Bella’s ankle. “You heard what he said, he wants her uninjured or else we won’t get paid. You better not have injured her insides you idiot.”

“Calm down Rayne, she’s fine. Just knocked her wind out is all. No harm, no foul right Doc,” Chase said to the man walking out of the shadows. Bella lifted her head, her arms wrapped round her pain-wracked belly, confusion evident in her eyes. She could see Fingers laying out a large tarp as a man in glasses and a hat handed Rayne something from his bag.

“We’ll see in a moment,” the man said looking at Chase. It was then that Bella remembered whom the man was; her doctor from the free clinic a few blocks away. She felt a prick in her neck as Rayne injected her with the syringe the doctor had given her. “Now put her on the tarp so I can get to work.”

“Doc, I don’t want to see this, can you just give us our payment before…” Rayne was saying as the doctor reached into his bag and pulled out 3 vials of payment.

“Remember, just like before, get rid of the body before sunrise…” Those were the last sounds Bella heard as a strange darkness took her.

Bella’s ethereal eyes popped open, revealing shadowy hellish creatures surrounding her body. Clacking filled her ears as they began clawing and raking at her spirit flesh, grasping and pulling, ripping her out of her body. Panic and fear swelled up inside her, causing her to thrash about, as the creatures carried and dragged her towards the cold dark pit; a pit that perfumed the air with a putrid sulfuric scent, emanated heat, and filled the room with screams of agony.

(work in progress)

Eventide

By Ben Marroquin
StoryMask.com

I walk in a town of labyrinth roads passing homes and brick buildings sprawled against an ethereal landscape. Rivers run oily blue, invading streets and filling them with dark watery creatures flitting about with gnashing teeth in search of food. The windows are lit with soft candlelight as humanoid shadows walk by.

I look for a reason why I’m here, but there is none that I can tell.

A girl approaches, face powdery white and eyes like oily onyx. She opens her black lipstick mouth, but has no tongue to speak. She lifts a gothic dressed china doll with raven hair and red lips; it begins to speak for her. “Our world has changed, become starkly dark the night it arrived in town. Now, no one walks these streets… well, at least, no one sane lest they wish to be fed to the Styx.”

I stared at the little girl and her china doll, confusion evident on my face. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are or what you mean. What is a Styx and where in the world am I?”

“My name is forgotten, of little consequence and you will soon learn what sorry truly means. As for the Styx, it is the river of gnashing beasts that invade our streets from time to time. As for where you are, you are in and not in this town of Eventide.”

“What do you mean I’m in and not in this town? Everything is so strange, this can’t be real, surely I’m…”

“ All who visit our town in the real world, eventually end up here, ever since ‘it‘ arrived. It waits till you sleep in the real world, then invades your mind, your dream and brings you here to its nightmare town. Live or die here and you‘ll live and die there… in the real world.”

Just then a flash of light from above caught my eye, I looked up and noticed that the sky was teeming with life. Strange luminescent jelly fish like globes floated along the air currents like mini hot air balloons. They had long thin neon hued tendrils that squirmed below and unique colorful flowers above. And in the center of their transparent globe shaped bodies swam small finned beasts that only had one eye.

And fluttering around these globes were fairy like creatures; some had butterfly wings, some were like dragonflies, and some even had feathers. They would perch on the flowers on top of the globes and glow as their hummingbird beaks drank what I could only assume was nectar. And every now and then, these globes would capture a careless fairy creature with one of their tendrils and feed. It wasn’t a pretty sight, seeing these fairy creatures floating around in the globe’s body in pieces, but the small one eye beasts seemed to like it.

When I looked back down, the girl and her doll were nowhere to be seen, but I knew that if I wanted to leave I’d have to find the “it” that arrived in town.

(to be continued)

Twilight’s Magic Garden

By Ben Marroquin
StoryMask.com

Once upon a time, in the small town of Twilight, on the corner of Roseberry Avenue, there lived a peculiar old lady with 3 cats in a quaint old cottage house. The small cottage’s roof was terracotta and the walls were the color of sandstone, but one wouldn’t know it from looking because ivy covered the walls in a sea of green. Charming flower boxes adorned the windows and a brass tulip shape bell hung by the sunset hue door. A welcoming sight to be sure.

Every morning the sun shone down the old lady could be seen outside attending the wondrous gardens that surrounded her home like a moat. Many of Twilight’s children would “ooh” and “ahhh” at the sight of her home on their way to and from school, and who could blame them? Fairy tale statues and lovely water fountains tickled their imaginations while exotic butterflies, birds, dragonflies, and bees danced from flower to unusual flower. Even small squirrel sized animals could be seen from time to time running underneath the small garden forests.

Small stone pathways wove through the gardens and harbored ivy patterned garden benches. Many children were tempted to open the waist high black iron gate of the fence that surrounded the house, tempted to sit on one of the many garden benches and play in her gardens, but didn’t because rumor had it that the old lady was a crazy wicked witch!

This was not said because she looked like a crazy wicked witch, no… not in the least. She wore spring colored dresses, not black. Her hair was silvery blue and shone like moonlight, not a scraggly dull gray ash. Her tan skin and oval shaped face was lined with kindly wrinkles, not a long angular wart infested face with deep angry wrinkles. And her 3 cats weren’t even black; one was as orange as sherbet, one storm cloud gray, and the last one a tan cream.

So how did she become known by such a cruel name? It was simply because she was different than others. After all, how many people do you know that are followed around by 3 frisky cats while singing and talking to their gardens? Plus, it didn’t help that many of the neighbors were jealous and said mean things about her because her garden was pictured on the front of the daily newspaper under Twilight’s Magic Garden.

And because she was different, and children being children, some of the mean spirited ones would play mean tricks on her. Some would put mud in her birdhouse shaped mailbox, some would toilet paper her garden, and some of the really mean ones would throw rocks hoping to break her garden statues while yelling “Green house witch, go away!”

It was a cool spring evening when Mia and Jayden Dabbin decided to play a trick on the old lady. A trick they had been playing for the past 3 evenings; Ding, Dong, Ditch.

Mia and Jayden smiled when they saw that the old lady was nowhere in sight. Jayden opened the black iron gate and headed up the cobblestone path to the door in a crouch, his sister Mia closely behind him. The small link chain that sounded the tulip bell gently swayed in the breeze. Underneath that bell Mia and Jayden played a quick game of rock-paper-scissors, a game Mia won.

The plan was simple, same as before, ring the bell and run through the garden to hide by the side of the home.

Ding, ding, ding went the tulip bell and off went Mia and Jayden, racing through the garden to hide, snickering as they went. Turning the corner, they found themselves greeted by one of the most fantastic aromas they had ever smelled in their young lives. A heavenly scent of mouth-watering proportions, a scent that led them to a small garden table garnished with a rose petal bowl teeming with freshly baked flower shaped cookies.

“Hello… hello, is anybody here?” asked the old lady by the door, and seeing no one about, she closed the door.

“Sweet! The old crone went back in, lets grab some cookies and go…” Mia was saying when Jayden grabbed a cookie a started eating it on the spot.

“Mmmm! It’s delicious,” he said as crumbs spilled out of his mouth. “You got to try one Mia.”

And seeing how much he was enjoying the cookie and having that heavenly scent tempting her so, she did indeed try one. It was the most delicious cookie in the world, like honey-dipped flowers with cinnamon on top. Before they knew it, they had devoured the whole bowl of cookies.

“Hurry, let’s go before she comes out for the cookies,” Jayden said as he tried to move his feet, but to no avail. His feet wouldn’t move.

“I can’t move my feet! They’re stuck,” Mia cried out in a whisper, looking down at her feet, seeing them surrounded by nothing but dirt. Looking up at Jayden she let out a small shriek, catching his attention. Jayden looked up at Mia and let out a small shriek of his own.

“What’s going on?” Jayden asked in fear and confusion. Pointing at Mia he continued, “You’re turning green!”

“Eek! Soo aaaree yyoouu!” Mia stammered back, finding it difficult to talk as her tongue began to change. Jayden opened his mouth to say something but only muffled sounds came out. That’s when the old lady came walking round the corner of the house towards them with a smile on her face and a song on her voice.

She walked up to Mia and Jayden and began poking and prodding them, all the while making comments like “Yes, very nice shading” and “Silky texture” and “Wonder if you’ll be a Popistar or Jabblylink or Tigersnap or something altogether new!” as the 3 cats danced around her and meowed their own comments.

The old lady jittered with excitement, grabbed a nearby garden chair, sat down, and began talking to the two. “Oh this is very exciting, it’s been a while since I’ve added to my garden. Why the last time was 2 months ago when that mean little rock throwing boy broke one of my statues! Well, I’d have none of that so I made him replace it. See, that’s him over there.” She said pointing over to a small statuette of a boy in old-fashioned clothing jumping over a candlestick.

“But where are my manners,” she said with much mirth. “I’m Autumn Fable and it’s so nice to finally meet you after all these evenings of ringing my bell.” Jayden and Mia looked at the old lady and made frantic motions with their arms and tried to beg for help, but only muffled sounds came out of their quivering green lips.

“Oh my, look at how adorable you look singing and dancing like that,” Autumn said with glee in her voice and a clap of her hands. “This is so exciting! I can’t wait to see what you’ll grow to be. Maybe you’ll be Gatorjaws or Bablyoons or Squidlyloos or Gabblysqwaks or even one of the many garden creatures that live here. The suspense is simply delicious! I do hope it will last,” she finished with a chuckle and poured herself a cup of green tea.

“Well then my lil’ poppies, would you like to hear some stories while we wait? Some fanciful fables to lighten the heart and soothe your sweet lil’ souls? … hmmm. I could do that, but it wouldn’t be true or at least, the whole truth.”

“See, it’s true that there was an old lady that swallowed a fly, but I know why she swallowed that fly. It’s simple really, it’s because she was a Bagroth! Oh they are greedy, selfish, and utterly disgusting looking creatures that have no self-control over what and how much they eat. They can grow to enormous size if one is not careful to stop them. Why, one almost ate my last garden in the last home I lived in, and would’ve too if it had not been for the Tizzywhurls, they showered the air with sleeping pollen… ending that dreadful day.” She said as her teacup made a small clinking noise on its saucer.

“It was kind of Mrs. Shoehorn to send her children to collect that Bagroth though, because I don’t know what I would’ve done with it. They towed it back to their shoe house and everyday that week, the air smelled of Bagroth stew,” she said laughing to herself, “her children were well fed that week!”

Setting her teacup and saucer aside, Autumn got up and began poking and prodding again. She tenderly held Jayden’s hand saying, “Such lovely tendrils you’re growing.” Causing Jayden to freak out again and shake about franticly to which Autumn happily remarked “my but you do love to dance!”

Making her way over to an equally “dancing” Mia, she held her face in her two hands and her eyes lit with green flecks as she inspected her head. “Simply beautiful my dear, the petals of your flower is growing splendidly.” Mia reached up with leafing hands and felt her head, where once there was brunette hair now long silky bluish white petals grew. She tried to scream out, but only soft high-pitched melodies escaped causing Autumn to sing along, a song about spring which the 3 cats merrily joined in on too.

It was quite a scene, had anybody been around to see. With the song being over, and the children’s transformation still going, Autumn returned to her seat and cup of tea to begin another tale.

“Now the next tale is a tale of woe, of transformation, and of vengeance! See, it’s true that the extremely fat and egg shaped Mr. Humpty Dumpty did like to sit on a wall to eat his lunch, and he certainly had a very great splattering fall, but what they failed to tell you was that Humpty Dumpty had a very bad gambling habit and owed a great sum of money, to someone who you should never owe that kind of money to…” she said and leaning closer whispered, “the Shadhowl.”

“A terrible man the Shadhowl, or at least he used to be a man before the change some 20 odd years ago… It is said that when he was a man he used to work for one of the biggest mob bosses in Faesing. But led astray by the visions of the daemon Syn, he was filled with greed and power lust, so he made plans to kill his boss, plans that Drak found out about. And so the man was captured, beaten, and on the brink of death when his body was discarded in the Crepuscular Forest.”

“No one knew what happened to him in that forest, but one thing was certain, something old, dark and powerful now lives in him, is now a part of him. He returned to Faesing in the dark of night and got his bloody revenge on his ex boss Drak and the goons that beat him. Now you’re really to young for me to describe just what he did to those poor people, but suffice it to say it was so bad that it put the fear of Hades in all the men, so no one challenged him when he made himself the new boss.”

“Over the months a change overcame his men, a change created by him. They became darker inside, more feral and fearsome. They soon became known as the Creeps. They made quite a sinister reputation for themselves and the Shadhowl. Soon, people were crossing the street anytime they saw the Creeps coming down the side of the street they were on. The Shadhowl used this fear to do many atrocious things, including something horrible to one of the sister Fates.”

“So it was only inevitable that when Humpty failed to pay what he owed that the Shadhowl would send his henchmen Creeps after him, and give him that very big splattering fall! Oh the pain Humpty’s adopted daughter felt that day the mayor’s Tinmen told her of the tragedy, it broke her heart. That’s the day she changed, became cold inside, for shame.”

“She went up to that wall, from which he did fall to give herself to the Fates, but they had other plans and showed her the hands that committed her father to grave.”

“So into the dark side of the city she did turn and hunt down those Creeps with Fates deadly silver laced blades. And when the Shadhowl learned of the fate they did earn, he disappeared from the lands of Fae make. Now it is said she hunts him still every night, through these strange lands of humans.”

(to be continued)

Written by: Ben Marroquin

StoryMask.com

Shadows flitted behind her as she walked down the street toward the Warrens. The moon was partially covered by autumn clouds, but she could still feel its radiance pulsing within, drawn in through her grayish blue eyes. She wrapped her red coat round her athletic body, lifted her head slightly, and breathed in deeply as her hair, pitch black and layered, fell past her shoulders. She knew she was headed in the right direction, even before she heard the scream ring out in the night from the alley just ahead.

Jovianna Lynette Wynters raced to the entrance of the alley and braced herself as a battered, tear streaked blond teen ran into her. She held the shivering girl up by the shoulders and peered into the dimly lit alley as a large gray haired beast came to a wary halt on all fours, just 10 yards away. Inch long fangs dripped drool onto the ground as it snarled at her.

Jovi looked into the eyes of the terrified girl, pheromones permeated the air, calming the girl. She returned her gaze to the beast, and sent the girl running up the road towards safety. The beast’s muscles rippled as it prepared to bound and drag down the prey it had been toying with.

“So wolfie,” Jovi said with a smirk on her darkening face, getting the werewolf’s attention. “You ready for a real fight? …”

The werewolf’s eyes widened as it looked a short distance past Jovi, focusing on the two figures that stood several yards silently behind her. A pale skinned, well-built male with dark chestnut brown hair, a black tasteful sweater, and chocolate hued pants smiled at the young werewolf. His arm and hand were entwined with the arm and hand of a slender woman; she had straight white hair down to her shoulder blades, a dark green long sleeved blouse, and black jeans like Jovi.

The chestnut haired man glanced at the young woman in his arm, “Mmm, what have we here Jasal?”

“Red and the big bad wolf, what a delicious treat,” Jasal said with a silky smile. “Which one do you want Aidan?” Their wicked smiles became twisted as fangs lengthened and faces became a humanoid blend of the demonic and bat.

Jovi slid the red coat off, still staring at the werewolf, continuing her conversation with the young Were, “… because I’ve brought one for us.” The werewolf responded with a growl, not even taking its blazing eyes off the two vampires.

Jovi knew she had nothing to fear from turning her back on the werewolf because of the utter hatred that resided between all lycanthropes and vampires. Hatred bred in blood since their existence.

Human blood gave vampires life, but drinking Lycan blood gave vampires certain abilities that made them even deadlier creatures of the night. It allowed them to permeate the air with lust building or fear chilling pheromones, provided them with the ability to transform into more powerful and dexterous bat-like beasts (eventually sprouting wings), and in some cases, allowed them to communicate with certain animals.

But vampires weren’t fools, they knew just how dangerous it was to hunt and kill Weres, especially without silver since it poisoned a Weres blood making it undrinkable. And their blood was just a precious to Weres, turning the hunted into the hunters.

For Lycans, Vampire’s blood held the key to immortality, allowing them to greatly extend their lives and youth, the more vamp blood consumed the longer they lived. It also made them highly resistant to the hallucinogenic drug-like bite of vamps. A bite that allows vamp’s to turn humans into drug-like junkies; allowing them to use humans as toys and food in order to get their fix, eventually owning their bodies and minds.

The werewolf bounded past Jovi and barreled straight towards the couple with deadly intent. Jasal and Aiden gracefully separated as the werewolf landed in the spot they had just vacated. The werewolf turned to face Aiden leaving Jasal behind him.

Well that answers that question Jovi thought to herself as her foe was now chosen for her. Jasal smiled at the sight of the werewolf’s vulnerable back and leapt. She was fast, but Jovi was faster.

Aiden’s eyes flared as he looked past the werewolf and saw Jovi smash into the side of his leaping Jasal. He clenched his jaw as he heard them crash into the brick wall of the closed building.

(to be continued)

Monster

By Ben Marroquin
StoryMask.com

Emma Lansing sat in the front row with her foster parents, watching the Cirque de DaeDreams performers through large brown doe eyes. A gasp escaped her lips as she watched the trapeze artists; a young girl dressed in beautiful raven hued feathers and night hued silks released the bar, somersaulted twice, and grasped the hands and wrists of the gray-feathered man that the ringmaster announced as her father.

She clutched her popcorn as sunrise hued lion tamers did the unthinkable and fire dancers mesmerized with dancing flames. Heart deep smiles lit her face as canine-ish clowns took center stage. They came pouring out of small cars shaped like dog houses, chased each other with buckets of confetti, and made strange glitter filled animal balloons for delighted kids.

That’s when she noticed a rather peculiar figure circling the ring. He moved with cat-like grace as his amber-hued feral eyes searched the audience, the bells on his hat jingled softly. Emma scrunched down, trying to make herself invisible as the eyes fell upon her.

The jester quickly made his way towards Emma. His long liquid black hair bounced as his sculpted frame neared her; the ringmaster announced that they needed a young brave volunteer from the audience.

The jester reached out, grasping Emma’s small long sleeve covered wrists, causing her to wince in pain. He released the girl with a whispering snarl that appeared as a grin to those in attendance. She shivered as she caught a momentary sight of pointed teeth, but no one else seemed to notice. His mouth, painted blackish blue, seemed wider than normal.

Her foster parents excitedly pushed her towards the jester’s waiting hands. Fear gripped her heart, but she went with the jester anyways, afraid of making him angry… she had learned that it was not good to make grown-ups angry.

The jester led her to a table filled with pies and performed a skit, ending with Emma throwing a pie in a clown’s face to the amusement of the crowd. The jester then returned her to her seat and performed a magic trick in which he made her new foster father’s wallet disappear to a cheering crowd.

Emma found it hard to sleep that night as visions of acrobats, balloon animals, colorful masks, and popcorn filled her mind. She pictured herself flying through the air with the raven-haired trapeze artist and envied her for living with such a wonderful circus. And she winced in pain as she rubbed her bruised wrists, recalling the strange jester that picked her for the pie skit.

That’s when she noticed the dark amber glow of eyes in her window. She looked towards her door, wanting to scream, but the eyes were gone when she looked back. She fought the urge to run to her foster parent’s room to yell out “Monster!” She knew better than to do that.

She closed her eyes and relaxed as she felt the cool breeze on her face. It took a few heart beat moments to pass before her eyes snapped open as realization dawned on her: The cool breeze caressing her face could only mean one thing: her window was open.

Her eyes bulged and she started to visibly shake as she saw the jester standing at the end of her bed. He had ashen gray skin, long sinewy limbs, pointed ears, and a swishing tail. She was about to open her mouth and scream when it lifted its hand to its mouth and signaled her to be quiet with a long clawed finger pressed to his lips.

He moved next to her, pressed one black claw to her forehead, and scratched a painless rune into her skin. A faint outline of blood formed as he then used that claw to slice open a wound on his palm. Smiling, he dribbled his own bluish silvery blood onto the rune and chanted in a strange melodic language she had never heard before. The rune flashed silvery red as Emma felt a warm tingling sensation cross her body, causing her mind to swim in a myriad of sensations. By the time it was over the jester was back at the edge of her bed.

His ear twitched and he looked towards the door, then glided back, opened the door to the closet and entered. Her bedroom door opened just as the closet door closed. With eyes entranced on the closet door, Emma felt her foster parents enter her room rather than see them and whispered, “m-m-mon-ster.”

Her eyes slowly shifted from the closet door to them and widened: They were dressed in strange black leathers; her foster father held leather straps used to bind wrists and legs and her foster mother held a whip and a hand held video camera. “Monsters,” she rasped out loud clutching her blankets with trembling hands.

They smiled as they looked down on her. A deep low growl filled the room causing them to quickly spin towards the closet door with pounding hearts.

Emma’s vision began to swim as the world around her began to take on an ethereal appearance. Her foster parents no longer appeared to her as of flesh and blood but something more, she could actually see their very tainted souls… and it made her angry.

She rose on her bed unnoticed, standing, watching as her foster parents slowly edged their way towards the closet door. Her hair lengthened and turned a beautiful hue of silvery blues. Her skin darkened to midnight and silvery lines began flowing from the rune on her forehead, they swam down her body, etching her body in wondrous patterns of shimmering curves and caressed the side of her face.

She lifted her arm and smiled as her silvery eyes followed the graceful patterns to her slender hands. Her fingers danced and a soft melodic chant flowed from her glittering lips causing her fingertips to tingle with silvery light. The silvery lines lengthened and flowed past her fingers into the air and danced like a flame waiting for something as her eyes returned to her foster parents…

Her foster dad clenched the leather straps in one hand and reached out to the closet door with the other; ready to attack whatever pet Emma had hiding in the closet. He could feel his wife’s hand grasp his shoulder as he opened the closet door with his left hand; his right arm cocked and ready to lash out.

Emma chuckled unexpectedly as she saw her foster parents frozen in fear in front of the opened closet door; fierce almond shaped amber hued eyes and glimmering white fangs greeted them, rooting their quaking bodies to the spot.

Whip, straps, and camera hit the floor as her foster parents scrambled to move away from the closet. Their panic so great that they found themselves on the opposite side of the room, away from the door that would allow them escape from the room.

It was the soft glow of silvery light that made them look her way. Their eyes showed confusion and wonder and fear as they stared at the little girl that was Emma. Her onyx hued nightgown appeared as layers of transparent silk and flowed like her silvery blue hair as if being surrounded by an autumn wind.

Emma’s arms weaved and wove as the dancing silvery thread from the tips of her hands swirled into beautiful globes. The room became infused with the sound of her hypnotic chant as the globes danced through the air to their partners, her foster parents. The jester, smiling, made his way quietly to the far side of the bed and perched himself there, thoroughly enjoying the show.

Her foster father opened his mouth to speak but Emma simply gestured for his silence causing his voice to go mute. “Words are not needed,” she said as she tapped into a pool of knowledge that had just formed in her mind.

“The girl you knew as Emma has changed, has become something more, a being which is sorely needed in this world. I am the new Arbiter and you are to be judged for your actions.”

The globe began to throb and pulse with light as it expanded in front of the man cowering in the corner. He tried to avert his eyes but could not; they were transfixed on the hypnotic globe. His eyes widened as images began to form within the globe, images pulled from his very essence through his eyes.

“These shinning globes that you see are Soul Gazers. They are your defenders and prosecutors. They cannot be lied to. Not only do they show the truth, but their very hues display the emotions you were feeling at the time each act of consequence took place.”

An inaudible gasp escaped his lips as his life began to take place within the globe for all those in the room to witness. A tear rolled down her cheek as she witnessed all the vile acts that this man had delivered upon so many innocents. Anger swelled up as it culminated with the last images of this man on top of a tear streaked, pain filled, shame stained girl… Emma.

“By the light of your Soul Gazer we can see you took much joy and pleasure in your actions, even believing that you were giving joy and pleasure to others. Now you will see what those actions have wrought you. You have been found GUILTY. Your taint shall no longer infect the innocents of this world.”

A smile appeared on Emma’s lips as she thought of his punishment. Her silky chant filled the room as liquid strands of silver reached for the condemned man from his Soul Gazer and pierced through his skin. Spasms of pain wracked the man as the silvery threads attached themselves to his tendons. A cool liquid covered his skin as the pulsing sphere enveloped him. His mind screamed in agony as his body began to contort, his skin started changing texture, and his body began to shrink as if in a body vise.

His wife noticed none of this as her eyes were transfixed on her own Soul Gazer. The images showed an innocent who was tainted at a very young age. An innocent who was abused by her own “monsters” physically and emotionally, eventually making her one of them; the person she could have become shattered and lost in a forest of pain and shame. Emma felt pity for that little girl who could’ve been so much more, who could’ve sparkled. She could tell even the jester mourned inside his heart for the lost little girl.

Chanting filled the stillness of the room as the Soul Gazer pierced her foster mother’s eyes with a burning light, filling her mind with burning sunspots. The pulsing sphere engulfed her body as unconsciousness claimed her.

“It is done,” Emma said to the jester. “Her mind has been wiped clean and her body rejuvenated. May she become the sparkle that she was meant to be, but now that she is that little innocent girl again, who is to care for her properly?”

The jester gracefully made his way to the young little girl lying asleep on the floor and pulled a piece of golden chalk from his pocket. He then drew a small door on the wall along with three runes and chanted. The outline of the door shimmered and then it became real.

He gently knocked on the magical door. A moment later a young couple opened it. The couple looked at the jester, then down at the young blond girl sleeping on the ground. Smiles lit their faces, “For us?” they asked. Their eyes then fell on Emma, they immediately knelt on the floor in reverence. “Blessed Arbiter, we are honored to be summoned.”

The jester smiled, “She has been given mercy and is to be your daughter if you should choose to take on all the responsibilities that come with being true parents.”

“Yes!” the young woman cried out as she gathered the sleeping child in her arms, tears of joy spilling forth. Her husband looked at the jester and Emma “I don’t know the words to express just how much this means to us…”

“Just care for her like I know you can, that is all the gratitude we need,” the jester said with a smile as he sent the happy family back through the disappearing door. “As for you,” he said looking down on the ground next to where the little girl was sleeping a moment ago, “now you shall truly bring children joy!”

On the floor was a beautifully detailed toy marionette jester with silvery strands attached to his limbs. Inside, the tainted spirit of the man that use to be her monster, silently screamed in agony as his new toy body was lifted off the ground by the silvery strands attached to his ethereal tendons.

Through shiny onyx eyes, he sees the Arbiter’s face as she speaks to him. “For each life you have ruined, you shall spend a lifetime in your new body. No longer shall the innocents be the ones tied down and mute, from here until the end of your sentence it is they that shall control your body, and while each pull of your strings shall bring them joy and pleasure, you will feel the pain that you inflicted on others.”

With weaving hand, she creates another globe, filling the room with a soft silvery blue light. “You shall come to fear the very sight of children, anticipating the pain you will receive while they smile and laugh tugging your strings. It is no more than you deserve.” With a wave of hand the new globe drifted down, engulfing the marionette and rose into the air, drifting to the open window like a hot air balloon with a present inside.

“But fear not, when your time in your new prison is at an end, your spirit shall be set free into the Everlife for judgment eternal,” Emma said, making her way to the open window, watching as the globe began its journey through the night sky. “Then you shall truly know what fear and pain is.”

“What is to come next?” Emma asked, as the globe disappeared in the night sky.

“There are others to judge,” the jester replied, slipping out the window, holding his hand out for Emma to join him. “By the way, where did you send him?”

“To a place where he’ll bring much joy and pleasure,” she said with a smile, exiting the room and joining him outside. “To Harmonies Orphanage on the other side of town.”

Soft musical laughter filled the night air as they headed towards their next destination.

“Hello?”

“Yes, is Isbella Aaronson there?”

“Speaking.”

“Oh, good. This is Sarah Rogers from the Grace Falls Foundation. There was a bit of vandalism that took place at the park last night. Unfortunately, it seems somebody decided to deface the statue we commissioned you to create for us last month. We were wondering if you could go down to the park to see if the damage could be repaired. We’re willing to pay you for the job.”

“That’s terrible news! I hope they catch the awful vandal that did it. And yes, I’ll go and see what I can do about repairing the statue. I,ll even do the work for free, I’ll just charge for supplies.”

“Thank you Mrs. Aaronson, that’s wonderful news. Just send us the receipt for the supplies and I’ll happily cut you a check of reimbursement. It really is a wonderful work of art, a real treasure for those of us that enjoy visiting Grace Falls Park. Well, it’s getting a little hectic around here, so I better go. I look forward to talking with you soon. Bye.”

“Bye, and I’ll let you know if I have any problems.”

Isabella walked into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee, and sat down to a jelly doughnut. Her husband, Blaine, put his paper down and gave her an inquiring glance pertaining to the phone call. She told him who called and what had happened at the park to her artwork as their 6 year old son, Mason, came bounding down the stairs ready for school.

Blaine stood up, put on his business coat, and kissed her lightly on the lips. He looked deep into her eyes, told her he loved her and to be careful as little Mason made a “grody” face.

His parents both looked at him and burst into laughter. “Come on squirt, don’t want to be late for school, do you?” his father said.

Mason jumped into his father’s arm. Blaine lifted his son to mom’s cheek, which Mason kissed, then with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, turned into a wet giggling lick. “Eeewwww!” Isabella said with a laugh, as smiling daddy “airplaned” giggling Mason out the door, into the car, and off to the great beyond.

Isabella put her wavy raven hued hair in a ponytail, slipped on her causal wear, grabbed her oversized bag, and headed out to her silver Ford Mustang. A half hour later, she found herself standing at the entrance to Grace Falls Park with her bag slung over her shoulder. She stared at the beauty of the lush green grass, autumn hued trees, and wonderfully quaint network of cobblestone paths.

It was one of these paths that led her to her statue; it stood proudly in the center of a clearing, circled by a path of cobblestones. Intricate stone benches sat on all four sides, inviting visitors to sit and enjoy the sculpture she named Wood Myths. There was a graceful wood nymph queen, with a crown of holly, in a light spring dress, arms raised above her head in dance as she celebrated the solstice in the center of the sculpture.

The wood nymph queen was surrounded by a small, strange, and delightful menagerie of dancing woodland creatures of myth; the shortest reaching 1 foot in height, while the tallest of them touched 3 feet. The whole sculpture stood on a pedestal that slowly spun, as if in an unseen music box. Simply, breathtaking, if only the vandal hadn’t chipped a piece off the wood nymph queen’s face.

Isabella had put her heart, soul, and sweat into the piece.

She stood facing her sculpture, large oak trees swaying in the early morning wind around her, as anger made her oblivious to her surroundings. He had been trailing her ever since he saw her enter the park with the large bag strapped round her shoulder. His filth covered hood hid his gaunt face and hollow eyes from the mid-morning sun. His body trembled for its next fix.

He came round the wide oak trunk, hand in his oversized thrift store coat gripping his large switchblade. Just grab the purse, slash the strap, and run like hell! Nothing to it he thought to himself. But he should have know that life rarely goes as planned.

The next scarlet moments seemed to move in slow motion; he stalked her from behind, grabbed the over sized bag she had clasped (white knuckled) in her angry hands, the pull spun her body round to face him, her eyes widened as she saw the blade coming towards her causing her to release an ear piercing scream. She pulled back, hand still unconsciously grasping the bag, causing him to lose his balance as the blade missed its mark and ripped into her throat. Blood sprayed out as she spun, and rained down on her statue.

Panicked, the druggie turned mugger turned killer pushed her body tumbling towards the statue and fled with bag in hand. The life flowed out of Isabella’s body onto the sculpture as her killer’s scrambled thoughts revolved around the blissful escape of drugs.

(to be continued)

He pressed his feverish forehead against the window, taking in the coolness of the glass. His breath seemed to frost it as he watched the innocent people shuffling about below, oblivious to the darkness coming; darkness born not of the night, but of his folly.

He pulled the mini recorder out of his oversized coat pocket and hit the record button. “It’s Thursday, February 28, 2041. I’m Senior Scientist Angel Macklin and if you’re listening to this, then I’m already dead… or worse.” His eyes glazed with a far away look, recalling the horrible events that had transpired.

Trembling, he continued his dictation, “Experiment Polugen 117 wasn’t the success we thought it was 5 years ago. The anti-pollution organism, used in just about every water and air purifiers round the world, has done the unthinkable. It has mutated into a transmutation virus we have classified as codename: Transmugen.”

“We discovered the life altering mutation, less than 74 hours ago, when Assistant Scientists Jessica Gomez and Kevin Taggart displayed flu like symptoms, ending in a feverish transitional period. In less than 18 hours they entered a coma like state and then the genetic mutations began… the poor souls.” Tears ran down his cheeks unfettered.

“Skin darkened and thickened, limbs lengthened into beastly appendages ending in claws, eyes became like pools of oil, and teeth fell out, replaced by needle fangs. Gomez even grew misshapen wings. They broke free of their containment rooms and chaos ensued. They ripped through skin like wet paper with their claws. Blood pooled as they feasted on flesh, killing some, mutilating others, and infecting over half that survived.” He said as he absently rubbed his bandaged left arm.

He made his way round the coffee table, onto the couch as his eyelids began to droop. “From what we have gathered, approximately 40% of those infected will mutate, 20% will die, and the rest will survive to face a world of flesh eating beasts, a world of gnashing darkness. The virus has even spread to the lab animals. It will infect… maybe even destroy the food chain. Dear God, what have I done? I have killed life on earth as we know it…” Sobs wracked his body as the guilt of his actions consumed him.

“Please, if you are listening to this recording, you must know that it was not my intentions to destroy our world… there is hope… or at least a sliver of hope; some of those infected have kept their humanity intact, have even shown evolutionary abilities. I witnessed three of them, three altered humans use these special abilities to fight back and allow us to escape the secret compound. One moved objects with his mind with deadly precision, another sparked fires with her bare hands, and one was able to control one of the beasts to aid us.”

Tainted blood began to flow from gums as his body sought to drag his consciousness into the dark. “Not much time left… the darkness is coming, bringing change. If you get this, make sure it gets into the right hands. It’s coming, they’re coming. Prepare or die. I fear the worst… but hope for… …”

He used the last of his remaining consciousness and strength to place the recording in a large manila envelope simply labeled: Police. His head then hit the arm of the couch as he entered the arms of fathomless darkness.

It was 2:38 a.m. in New Jersey when the sounds of shattering glass filled the night. The broken window showered down shards onto the nearly empty street below. A huge dark winged beast jumped out into the brisk night air and took flight as witnesses ran for cover. Powerful wings pumped as oily eyes searched the landscape below.

It spotted three red glowing forms in an alley, huddled round a fire burning in a round metal garbage can. Screams filled the night as the beast satiated its hunger. Screams that signaled the beginning of a war for all mankind and life on earth. A true World War against a devouring Darkness.

Bunikins, Blood Sprites, and Ganglyrot… Oh, My!
Written by: Ben Marroquin
StoryMask.com

Dezrie Breanne Hernandez was walking down Henderson Street, her red curly hair dancing in the wind like a flame, pondering life. She would love to be out and about, doing what other high school seniors were doing on such a great autumn night, but she wasn’t like other teenagers. No, she had gifts, a calling, which led to great responsibilities; life and death responsibilities.

It was these very real responsibilities that had her out, patrolling the west side of Paradise city. She didn’t like patrolling this side of city, not because it was a blighted neighborhood or anything like that. Quite the contrary, it was a labyrinth of quaint neighborhoods filled with real mom and dad families and the beautiful Grace Falls Park was its heart. But it was a rather quiet area of the city.

Rarely did anything out of the usual occur here, giving her plenty of time to think about how different her life would be if she wasn’t gifted, if she wasn’t a seraph hunter. Come on girl, get your head in the game. Don’t dwell on what ifs she thought to herself as she watched the festive Hallows Eve decorations adorning many of the houses; glowing jack-o-lanterns, cobwebbed porches, stuffed scarecrows, paper black cats, ghostly doormats, and cackling witches.

This wasn’t the kind of night Dez had in mind. No, she loved being in the thick of the action that Serenity Cemetery or Coventon Docks or even downtown Mirth Plaza provided.

Her auburn trench coat flapped lightly in the wind as she spotted strange beams of light pointing to the sky coming from across the street, three houses down. Her pulse quickened as she heard the creaking of a wooden gate. Her body tensed as she spotted shadows coming forth. And her heart fell as the tension left her body when she heard them, a half dozen or so kids excitedly chatting about playing hide and seek in the park.

She watched, with a bit of envy, as the carefree group of tweens rounded the block and headed towards Grace Falls Park, just a few short blocks away, to play their night games.

Dez reached the intersection and looked down Forest Street, in the direction the kids had taken to the park. She heard rustling coming from the bushes near a fence leading to the back of a white house on her right. That can’t be the kids, they should be near the park by now she thought to herself.

She took a few tentative steps onto the lush front lawn of the house, moving towards the bushes. That’s when she saw one of them, a rather large cute rabbit. Its honey hued eyes softly glowed as they focused on her. She took a few more steps near it, when a dozen more glowing eyes appeared through the bushes.

She stopped a mere 10 yards away from them and stared at the one outside of the bushes. “Aren’t you an odd little fluffy brown bunny?” she said softly to herself. It lifted and turned its head to the side as it seemed study her in return. Its long dangly ears flopped onto the cool grass, the tips forked like a snake’s tongue.

Dez reached into the inside pocket of her trench coat, pulled out her cell phone, and clicked a picture of the strange bunny as it turned to its side. She noticed that it had small horns near its temples, four hind legs, and a row of ebony spikes protruded from the top of its head down the length of its spine. She took a couple of steps closer, to make sure she wasn’t imagining it.

Suddenly, the bushes exploded in a flurry of furry action as dozens of the autumn hued bunnies bounded over the six foot high wooden fence.

Dez rushed forward and jumped to the top of the fence, her trench coat billowing like a cape. She perched there and watched the creatures cross the lawn and bound over the far fence, into the backyard of the house from the back block. She hit the speed dial for her handler, Averus, as she jumped down and made her way to the back fence. She stood on a iron bench there and looked over the fence.

The fluffy critters were feasting in a vegetable garden.

“Are you okay?” Averus said with concern in his voice. He knew she was patrolling the west side, the quiet side of the city, so he figured something serious must be happening for Dez to call, and that worried him. Then again, he always felt fatherly worries when any of his hunters were out on patrol, but that was their calling. “What’s the danger? Do you need backup? I’ll send Ripshade and Hellbeast…”

“Whoa, slow down. It’s all good. No need to panic… I think.”

“Are you sure? What’s the situation?” Averus asked.

“Look, I’m trailing these weird fluffy looking bunnies and just wanted to know what I’m dealing with. I took a pic with my cell, hold on while I send it to you.”

Averus looked at the picture, the relief was evident in his voice, “It’s just a pack of Bunikins. They’re pesky little beasts that feed on plants and plant life. I don’t think Thorn would like them or gardeners for that matter. Still, they’ll only attack humans if they’re cornered and feel their life is in danger.”

“They’re cute, could I keep one as a pet?”

“Sure, they look cute now, but you won’t be thinking that when they change. Their fur falls out, replaced with tough leathery skin. Their forked ear tips grow barbs and front paws become long sinewy arms ending in clawed hands.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, kind of like a naked mole rat,” Dez laughed.

“A what?”

“It’s a Disn…”

“Never mind. Besides, I’m not finished. Their bodies lengthen and twist upright as ripples of small muscular growth take shape. Their horns and the spikes on their backs lengthen and sharpen. Their maws become jackal-like with vicious rows of needle teeth. And though they may only stand about thigh high, with their four kangaroo like legs, they can jump well over a dozen feet in the air.”

“Oh, so they’d go all “gremlin-ly” on us. Okay then, that’s a no on the pet front. Well… umm… what do you what me to do with them?”

“Well, after they’re done eating, they should head back to the forest. Still, it would be best to relocate them, away from the city. I’ll send Ripshade over. With your help, he should be able to capture them in his shadow webs. Then we can load them into the van…”

“What van?” Dez interrupted.

“The one I’m going to…”

A chorus of broken screams pierced the night, seizing Dez’s attention. “Averus, I got to fly! There are screams coming from the park.” She flipped the phone close just as Averus was telling her to be careful and placed it back into her pocket. She willed the change to come as she jumped to the top of the fence.

Her skin became lined with diamond shapes as her bones and muscles thickened. Her clothes, enchanted by Averus’ rune magic, stretched to fit her new form. She used her new strength to spring high into the air, as draconic wings with bladed tips burst through the hidden slits of her trench coat. Powerful flaps carried her up into the night sky as her flesh hardened, transforming into maroon scales. Beautiful tattoo like patterns of golden flames emerged on her chest, forearms, lower legs, and wings as her face became golden-hued.

The Bunikins watched Spitfire, the draic fae seraph hunter, take flight, then resumed their feast once she was lost from sight.

Spitfire reached the nearby park within moments. Flecks of red filled her onyx eyes as she shifted her vision into the infrared spectrum. She spotted three red glowing child sized bodies running, flailing their hands frantically above them, as if swatting at something. They were heading away from the east side of the park; away from where the Grace River separated the park from the forest.

They emerged from the oak trees behind the children, dozens of owl sized winged creatures chasing their winded prey. They glowed softly red on a cool landscape of blues. Spitfire pumped her wings with urgency, picking up speed. Infrared vision was great for spotting living creatures, but it was severely lacking in the detail department so she shifted her eyesight back, in order to get a better view of the swarm: “Blood Sprites!” she said with a snarl.

She moved in to intercept them, hovering over the path of the fleeing children. That’s when the children saw her, and stopped dead in their tracks as their faces became paintings of fear. “What are you doing? Get moving!” Dezrie snapped at them, pointing towards the west. They just stood there, looking at her, dumbfounded by the fact that this fierce looking draconic beast just spoke to them.

Meanwhile, the swarm of Blood Sprites halted at the sight of this new arrival. They clacked to each other through their splintered teeth, hovering on their leaf like wings, trying to decide who should attack Spitfire first. Clearly, it was an honor they were willing to volunteer others for.

Spitfire looked down at the children once more and spoke, “I’m one of the good guys here to save you, so if you have any sense in your heads, you’ll do as I say and RUN that way, NOW!” Her words drove them into action. They made a run for safety.

The Blood Sprites, seeing their feast run away, found their courage and rushed forward.

Spitfire smiled as she eyed them: patches of moss covered their bark skin, branching arms ended in thorny claws, taloned tendrils dangled on the end of root like legs, and wine bead eyes glistened on their dark wooden faces.

“Barbecue anyone?” She said with a wicked smile as slits opened up on the palms of her draconian clawed hands. Her tail whipped side to side, swishing her trench coat, as she reveled in the blissful burning sensation that flowed through her veins, flowing down her arms, seeking release.

She pointed her draic hands, palms open, at the horde and shot forth bursts of fireballs. The shower of fire struck three of the Blood Sprites. They screeched in pain as they fell towards the lush green grass below, consumed in a fiery death.

The Blood Sprites swarmed Spitfire, pulling hair, slashing trench coat, raking halter top and black jeans. Her clothes were taking a real beating, but her draic scales were protecting her from their angry assault. Two more Blood Sprites hurtled towards the ground in a blaze as the wind became scented with a mixture of smoked wood and musk.

The sight and sizzling smell of their fallen brethren struck fear into their hearts. The Blood Sprites made a hasty retreat towards the river.

Spitfire was about to give chase when one of the children cried out, “Please save them! The monsters… it got my brother and friends by the river. It stuck something in my brother’s mouth and he fell to the ground… and… please you have to help them.” Spitfire wanted to ask the teary eyed girl some questions, but knew time was of the essence; she headed towards the river.

She switched to the infrared spectrum in order to spot them quicker. The sounds of rushing water greeted her as she neared the bridge leading into the forest. She spotted four red softly glowing child sized bodies near the river’s bank, a mere five yards away from the bridge.

It slithered out from under the bridge, breaking through the darkness of the shadows on eight root like legs. Vines and black thorn spikes adorned its long thin muscled body. Sap hued eyes targeted Spitfire as its demonesque face broke open in a wide mouthed smile, displaying a row of slimy black thorn teeth.

Its long gangly arms ended in evergreen hands. It opened its tendril like fingers (which ended in black thorn claws) as vine whips emanated from its palms. It clenched the rot vine whips as the tips become flayed into three strips and were covered in thistles. The plant beast lashed out in a quick succession of strikes at an unsuspecting Spitfire.

Spitfire screeched out in pain as one of the whips lashed her right wing while the other one wrapped round her ankle. The scales, where the whip lashed her wing, began to lose their luster while the scales, wrapped under the vine of the whip on her ankle, not only lost its healthy shade of maroon and gold flame, but were becoming brittle.

She looked down, but couldn’t see her attacker, it was invisible to her infrared vision. Pain etched her face as she switched her vision back and recognized the plant demon at once; a Ganglyrot.

It started to pull her down, she reacted instinctively, by slicing through the vine with the bladed tip of her left wing, setting herself free. She began to fly evasively round the Ganglyrot as it spun round, tracking her with its eyes, making its way towards the fallen children. Spitfire hurtled three fireballs at the beast; it cackled in pain as a fireball struck its left shoulder, perfuming the air with the scent of steamed vegetables.

The Ganglyrot secreted a greenish milky substance which put out the flame on its shoulder and began healing it. Damn! It’s protected from my fireballs. Hmmm… let’s see if that milky stuff will protect it from my Liquid Fire Blast.

Spitfire tucked in her wings and dove at the Ganglyrot, swishing left, then right as it lashed out at her with its vine whips. She opened her palms and sprayed forth a reddish oily substance. The Ganglyrot lifted its arms, shielding its face as the liquid rained down on him. Spitfire opened her wings and pumped them hard as the Ganglyrot turned round and lashed out at her.

She screeched in pain as one of the whips found its mark and lashed her back. She could feel those scales lose their luster and strength as she spun round and shot forth two fireballs. They struck the Ganglyrot, setting the oily liquid ablaze. The sound of the crackling fire was drowned out by the piercing screams of the Ganglyrot as it flung itself on the ground, rolling.

The Blood Sprites swarmed out of the trees from the forest across the river as Spitfire dove down towards the Ganglyrot, intent on ending the fight. They caught her by surprise as they plummeted into her, protecting their master, and causing her to crash land on the ground as the Ganglyrot rolled into the river.

The Blood Sprites began raking at her wounded scales, causing her to yelp in pain as they pulled scales up and out, exposing the raw bleeding flesh beneath. She thrashed about viciously, sending many of the little beasts flying. She quickly got to her knees, then from a squatting position, jump her into the air and took flight as the Blood Sprites, emboldened by the scent and taste of her blood, followed.

She reached into her tattered coat, looking for her cell to call for back up, but only found a torn pocket. She spun round and shot forth a volley of fireballs at the hungry horde of Blood Sprites. The mass of winged beasts drifted apart, as several plummeted towards the ground in a blaze, allowing her to see the Ganglyrot striding towards the prone children. Oh no! I can’t let it eat those poor kids alive. She tucked her wings and moved in to intercept him.

The Ganglyrot spotted her and lifted its hands towards the children. Three of the children rose awkwardly to their feet and shambled over to surround the Ganglyrot in a protective circle. What in the…¦ Spitfire didn’t get to finish her thought, she opened her wings to avoid flying into them.

The children lifted their hands up in the air as vines ripped through the flesh of the palms. Spitfire pumped her wings, altering her course over the children as their vines wrapped round her legs, arms, and waist causing her to slam into the ground.

Through blurry swaying vision, she saw the Ganglyrot approach her with a dark smile of victory. It cupped something in its hands, then forced it into her mouth; it was a seed.

The same type of seed that it forced into the mouth of the children, that went down into their throats, where it sprouted into a vine that ripped through the lining, leaving a sap like substance behind to close the tear. The vine then squirmed its way round organs, muscles, and flesh as it wrapped itself round bones. The Ganglyrot then controlled these vines like strings on a marionette, turning its victims into flesh puppets.

But that wasn’t the worst of it, it could then rip the flesh off of its victims to eat as the vines closed the wounds, ensuring that the victim would live and stay fresh for as long as possible. Unfortunately, the vines didn’t protect the victim from feeling pain or consciousness. And if the Ganglyrot was killed, the vines would then transform the remaining living victims into Ganglyrots.

Spitfire felt the seed enter her mouth. She struggled against the hold of the Ganglyrot and its puppets as the seed began making its way towards her throat. She lashed out at the Ganglyrot with her tail as the Blood Sprites began landing on the ground, forming a circle round her. She began to cough and choke as it entered her throat, the Ganglyrot clasped its hand over her mouth to keep her from spitting it out. She felt it wiggling in her throat as it began to sprout.

Her stomach rumbled as a phlegm like substance rose up into her throat, surrounding the seed, and spewed forth out her mouth, washing over the hand of the Ganglyrot. It moved its hand back in tremendous pain and shook it to and fro as the burning phlegm like substance withered the seed and its hand away.

The Blood Sprites flocked towards her as the flesh puppets began lashing her with their vine whips. Spitfire thrashed about wildly, her scales moist with rot and blood, as the cold realization of death began to wash over her. I should have called for backup. Now I’m going to be killed by a salad bar… I’m sorry sis…

Her vision began to darken as she saw shadows bounding towards her: “help me,” she softly rasped.

The Ganglyrot reached out towards her throat with its good hand as the Blood Sprites clacked in joy for the feast. Then they screamed in pain as a flood of bounding long eared furless beasts tore into them with gnashing teeth and raking claws.

The Bunikins began tearing into this moving “all you can eatâ” buffet, ignoring Spitfire. Blood Sprites took flight, only to be brought crashing back down to earth, as Bunikins bounded up after them, keeping the fight on the ground. Spitfire got to her feet shakily and nearly laughed in hysteria as she took in the scene; a miniature war raged round her as Bunikin battled Blood Sprite.

She spotted the Ganglyrot making its way towards the old stone bridge and gave chase. She jumped over the flesh puppets and landed on the bridge with a thud. The Ganglyrot spun round to face her and gave silent commands to the flesh puppets; they lifted their whip wielding hands, ready to lash out, but Spitfire struck first. She jumped straight at the Ganglyrot, slashed its arm off with the bladed tip of her wing, and spit a glob of magma in its face.

The Ganglyrot thrashed to the floor of the stone bridge, its body quaked in death throes as its head withered away to ash. The flesh puppets, no longer controlled by the Ganglyrot, fell to the ground as the Bunikins bounded over the river, with their meals in tow, and disappeared into the forest. Spitfire looked down and turned the remains of the Ganglyrot to ash.

She limped to the edge of the bridge and stared at the flesh puppets that were children. What am I going to do with you three? she thought sadly to herself. She knew she couldn’t just leave them lying there on the ground. Now that the Ganglyrot was dead it was just a matter of time before they became Ganglyrots. She knew what she had to do, no matter how much it pained her, she knew.

She summoned the fires to burn through her veins, down her trembling arms, and opened her palms towards the children. “Spitfire! Spitfire!” they called as tears flowed down her golden hued cheeks. She lifted her hands up into the air and released a pair of signaling fireballs as she fell to her knees.

Her sister, Frostbite, found her first and rushed to her side. Ripshade and Thorn reached the draic fae sisters and noticed the children lying motionless on the ground. They looked at the badly injured Spitfire questioningly. She looked up at them through watery eyes, “They were attacked by a Ganglyrot and a horde of Blood Sprites. They’ve been implanted with Gangly Seeds and will soon become Ganglyrots… we must, you know, before they rise. There is another one by the bank of the river, but I think… its dead from blood loss, damn Blood Sprites.”

“I can take them to the shadow realms…” Ripshade began to say.

“No, let me try something first,” Thorn said. Six powerful vine snakes, emanating from her back, surrounded her; guarding the druic fae seraph hunter. Her mahogany hair waved in the wind as she lifted her hands over the bodies of the children; her evergreen eyes began to softly pulse as her body tingled with nature’s energy.

She channeled the energy into the bodies of the children as their bodies began to quiver with internal movement. The vines unwrapped themselves from bones and ripped a hole in the flesh of their palms; they squirmed their way round organs, muscle, and flesh out of the bodies of the children where they were burned to ash by Spitfire.

Thorn then closed their wounds with a healing sap like substance and wrapped their hands in healing leafs. They walked over to the fourth child, by the bank of the river, but it was too late for this young girl. Thorn removed the vines from her body, ensuring that she wouldn’t change, and Spitfire turned them to ash. Thorn then tended Spitfire’s wounds as the sounds of sirens began to fill the park.

“We can’t save them all Dez, no matter how hard we try. Remember, without you, without all of us, there would be so much more pain and suffering and death… those three you just saved would be among them,” Ripshade said as the four seraph hunters left the scene unseen.

Just thought I’d post some resource websites that I find helpful when I’m writing. (Last updated on 10-3-06)

1) Need help coming up with character names? Try Baby Names Garden and Baby Names World

2) If you need help coming up with last names for your characters you may want to use Search For Ancestors Surnames Origin

3) (Just Added 10-3-02) Just found some real fun name generators over at Paperback Writer and Serendipity. They have name generators for Places (Streets, Taverns, Towns, and Cities), Realms, and Planets. You can even choose English, German, and Pseudo-Elizabethan sounding name generators. Go on over and give it a try.

4) Need inspiration for your story? Then try viewing some art and photos from: Fred Miranda Galleries and Deviant Art and Elfwood

Quick Note: When using the FredMiranda.com site, you can browse the galleries by simply clicking on the hosting button on the top right of the site. You’ll be shown random set of thumbnail pics. If you like one, simply click on the pic to be taken to that photographers gallery. Or hit the refresh button on your browser to be shown a new random set of thumbnail pics.

5) Need help coming up with story ideas? I wrote an article listing five methods I use to create ideas for my stories. It’s a quick read and gives some examples. You can read it at Writing Step 1: Story Ideas.

6) This tip was provided by Jim Stitzel of Flashes of Speculation: Wikipedia is also a good place for some quick and dirty research. It’s not something I’d ever use as the final, authoritative source, but it is a good place to get started.

7) Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable comprises over 18,000 entries that reveal the etymologies, trace the origins and otherwise catalog “words with a tale to tell.”

Dictionary.com is a great online dictionary that offers a very useful Thesaurus.

9) The following is a list of Articles that focus on writing errors: Ten Common Writing Mistakes Your Spell Checker Won’t Find, The Standard Deviations of Writing, and Some Common Mistakes.

10) Seth Godin has written a solid article that you may want to read titled Advice for authors. Also, if you’re into writing fan fiction, then you may want to read Rewriting the Rules of Fiction.

11) Resources to help with descriptions of people can be found at WriteShop

There you go. This is the list of resource sites I use when writing stories. If you know of any sites or articles that would be of use to writers, feel free to post them through the comment box

The destination of a story is the ending. Before you begin writing you should write down the ending. Why? This way you’ll know where your story is going. There is nothing worse than spending time writing a story and not knowing how to end it. Think of it like going someplace in a car. When you know your destination you know there are roads that will get you there. When you don’t know your destination you’ll spend hours driving around and end up lost, out of gas, or heading back to where you came from.

Below is a segment of an article written by Holly Lisle:

If your first reaction is, “What am I going to do with an ending when I have only the foggiest idea of my beginning, and none whatsoever of my middle?” don’t worry. You aren’t going to do a completely written-out chapter. All you’re going to do is figure out a basic landing pad for your story.

In my case, I’ll make the following decisions:
* Cadence will live (the survival of the main character is not always a given in my books, and eventually Cadence will make an irreversibly fatal mistake - but not this book)
* She will find what she’s been sent to find
* It will not be what she was led to expect, and this surprise will nearly cost her her life, and will prove fatal to at least one person the reader has come to know (though not necessarily to like)
* She will have her reckoning with the man who used her
* Maybe she will get her papers - that I’ll decide later.

Okay - next part of your workshop. Go back to your original entry and figure out in general terms how you want the story to end. Try to answer the following questions:
* Does your protagonist succeed or fail in gaining the objective you gave him in your opener?
* Does your story come to an emotionally satisfying conclusion?
* Can you see yourself going through anywhere from ten pages to seven hundred and being happy to see the story end this way?

I highly recommend reading the whole article at: http://www.hollylisle.com/fm/Workshops/plot-outline.html