Cudaer
Space Monkey
- Joined
- Mar 4, 2009
- Messages
- 43
Ok so I couldn't wait...... This is the unedited version of the prologue and the first chapter. Don't worry it is't yet another Werewolf Novel just a convenient place to start. In this version I have not corrected any Grammar or Spelling and also keep in mind that a lot of the early chapters were written in the early hours when my daughter Lily, now 1.5 was keeping us awake all night. The edited version will flow much better and be far more polished. Having said that I think the tension is there, but we shall see. This is my first novel, and its first tentative steps out of my grasp, so please be gentle.
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Prologue
The two, tall, grey aliens stared at the image of their home world on the viewing screen in front of them, its picture mirrored in the dark pool of their unblinking eyes.
No communication passed between them, but their sadness; a mournful, sorrowful sadness, was clearly visible on their up turned faces.
They had made their choice, to sacrifice themselves, knowing that there was nothing else left; the terrible thing which had been created had to be destroyed. Hours of meditation asking for forgiveness, had helped them to come to terms with their own mortality, but now, all alone in this tiny vessel, it was the silence, a deep oppressive silence that played on their minds the most. It filled every orifice, enveloping them until it felt like they could no longer breathe and its enormity weighed down their hearts. They knew it had to be done, so that others like themselves, now safely on the Mothership, would have a future. They also knew by committing this act, that not only would they be killing their own kind, both family and friends, but also other innocent individuals of other races which populated the planet. That’s if you could call it that, what remained of that population, was a shadow of its former self, now a degenerate, violent, animal like existence where incessant feeding and blood lust was all that passed between them. There had been beauty there once; the ether had been full of thoughts of peace and love, and then came the war. It had gone on for so long that its root cause had been lost in history, but now even that was gone, replaced with nothing but hunger and carnivorous longing.
A red light began to blink on and off in the centre of the control panel below the screen. Neither of the spacecraft’s occupants noticed it at first, lost in their own private thoughts, but its steady rhythm of illumination dragged them back to the present.
Staring at the panel the first alien lowered the self imposed barriers of his mind and telepathically communicated with his companion
“It is time my friend!”
“May the holy one forgive us for our greed!”
“And warm may his welcome be in Heaven” his companion sent back
With that, the first alien flicked on the tactical display and entered the target coordinates. After a few moments; lights flashing on and off as the computer performed the necessary calculations, a faint, blue aura appeared surrounding the image of the planet on the screen. With the target located, the red light changed to amber and a sound not unlike that of static discharge, quiet at first, but slowly building in intensity, filled the ship. The second alien looked at his companion then placed one hand over the light, the other following suit before they both turned their attention back to the screen. As the weapons charged, the light’s pulse increased and its colour turned slowly from amber to green. To the two occupants of the spacecraft it seemed that their hearts were keeping time to the pulse, the beat steadily increasing until suddenly it stopped. Both aliens took a deep intake of breath as their hearts appeared to skip a beat but it was only an illusion. The aura surrounding the planet on the screen changed from blue to yellow showing that the weapons were now fully charged so with one final look at their Homeworld they closed their eyes and ordered the ship to fire.
A stream of plasma erupted from the ship hitting the planet with an almighty force and engulfing it in a huge ball of lightning. As the atmosphere caught fire the planet began to turn, first yellow, and then bright orange as the fires intensity increased. The stream of plasma then ceased and the two aliens watched in awe as the ball of lightning began to shrink, crushing the planet in its vice like grasp; the planet turning blood red before their eyes. Finally, the wait was over, the planet turned white hot, the light so intense the two aliens had to shield their eyes, and then it exploded, destroying the ship and extinguishing the life within it. Like a stone thrown into water, multicolored concentric waves of force moved out into space carrying planetary debris in all directions.
Chapter One
It was dark in the house when Ashton arrived, dark and lonely. Since the death of his parents in the car crash, the world seemed empty, no more laughter or joy. The nightmares he’d been having had grown more intense of late, changing direction, expanding into unknown territory. Ashton had been lying asleep on the back seat when the lorry had pulled out; that was what had saved him.
He shivered and began to feel faint as he remembered the jolt that had woken him; then opening his eyes to see the decapitated heads of his parents, staring lifelessly from their resting place in the back of the car. The world around him began to sway as dizziness took control and the now all too familiar sick feeling grew in the pit of his stomach, something that had become common of late when these haunting memories returned to taunt him.
Entering the house, he closed the door behind him, ensuring it was locked before switching on the hallway light and dumping his keys and wallet on the table by the stairs. He had not moved out of his parents’ place after their death, he knew mostly everyone in the street and the familiarity comforted him. It wasn’t that it was a spectacular house either, one of many terraced houses in the street, cream in colour, just like all the rest. Neither had he changed the interior in any way; still the same cracked ice wallpaper peeling at the corners, still the same, flower patterned suite in the living area, the arms slightly thread bare through years of use. Ashton knew that eventually he would have to change things, but right now he wanted to hold on to his parents’ memories and this was as close as he could get.
He made his way to the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with ice from the fridge, he then returned through the hallway to the open plan living room heading straight for the cocktail cabinet. Pulling out a bottle of scotch he opened it and poured himself a generous measure, downing it in one. Pouring a second measure, he replaced the top and put the scotch back in the cabinet. Sitting on the sofa Ashton felt the mobile ring in his pocket and took it out. He’d not spoken to his girlfriend since the funeral over four weeks ago and as he stared at the words flashing on the screen he realized that he wasn’t ready to break that silence now. Throwing the phone down on the seat next to him he let it ring until the answer-phone kicked in and picked up the television remote. It was 10 o’clock, and the only thing showing was the news, he got bored quickly and switched the television off, deciding that perhaps he should go to bed, he was still feeling dizzy and nauseas and he had to be in work early. Finishing the scotch, he left the glass on the side and made his way upstairs switching the light off as he went.
Outside the night was cool; a light breeze ruffled the leaves of the rose bushes planted at regular intervals along the street. Gradually house lights began to wink out as the residents made their way to bed. A cat, out on its nightly prowl, hunting for mice trotted across the road, darting between the rose bushes on the opposite side and paused at the entrance to an alley way that connected this street with the next. The fences on either side were high and the light from the street lamps did not penetrate very far, but the cat could sense something was not right. It sniffed the air. Suddenly there was a crackling sound and a faint flash of light, not bright enough to be seen from the road, but, for a split second, bright enough to illuminate a figure crouched in the alley way. The Cat, startled by the noise did not wait long enough to see the figure emerge from the alley and start to make his way down the street before seeming to disappear into thin air.
Shadows flicked across Ashton’s face as he lay on the bed, cast by the swaying leaves on the tree in the back garden that filtered the light from the moon through the bedroom window. Images from the crash tormented his mind as he slept, he eyes darting frantically under closed lids. He felt a great hunger, when remembering the scent of fresh blood that filled the air in the enclosed space of the car. In his dream Ashton looked down at his hands which were now covered in a jet black hair, tipped with sharp talons, and the severed heads, no longer those of his parents, but of some deformed monstrosity, whispered incessantly in some macabre tongue. He shivered in his sleep as beads of sweat began to form on his body. Looking up from his hands he discovered that he was no longer in the car but at the end of his street looking down the row of terraced houses, the whispering still echoing in his mind. Further down the path a lonely figure was making its way home. The feeling of hunger increased as he watched; then, slowly at first, but gradually increasing in speed he set off in pursuit. Ashton’s body began to twitch, imperceptibly, then gradually more violently as the intensity of his nightmare increased. He was almost on his prey now, its smell making his hunger unbearable. The figure then turned, and for the first time he realized he had been pursuing himself. With a taloned hand he reached out and tore at the throat. The twitching stopped and Ashton’s eyes shot open to reveal bright yellow eyes with dilated, cat like pupils. His mouth opened and he tried to scream, but this was cut short as the sound of cracking bone filled the air. First his fingers then his toes began to lengthen to be topped with sharp, steel like talons; the front of his face began to protrude to form a muzzle and jet black hair covered his body. One by one his ribs cracked and extended as his body contorted. The creature stared out the window at the moon and roared its defiance, its long, canine fangs glistening with saliva.
Downstairs a pane of glass on the back door imploded, the key mysteriously turned in the lock and the door slid quietly open and shut again as if of its own accord. A strange disturbance in the air seemed to float across the kitchen leaving damp footprints in its wake, gradually disappearing as the moisture dried in the warmth of the house. At the start of the hallway it stopped and slowly a nude figure, male in appearance, seemed to materialize from thin air. He was wearing a pack on his back and carrying a long, ornately carved, silver staff, finished off with a curved, sharp blade at one end. Leaning the staff against the wall he removed the pack and placed it carefully on the kitchen table. His body was adorned in a strange tattoo, which appeared to glow in the light of the moon shining through the window. Facially, his features were soft, or slightly undefined probably would have been a better description. Picking up the staff he moved into the living area adjacent to the hall, disappearing into the shadows. Startled by a loud roar emanating from somewhere upstairs, he span round, knocking a glass of the side which shattered when it hit the floor.
The creature that was Ashton stopped and listened. A sound, picked up by its heightened senses caught its attention. The door to the bedroom was open and the creature carefully moved out into the corridor and quietly made its way to the top of the stairs; paused, listened, then slowly descended the stairs stopping again halfway down. Peering through the banister into the darkness of the living room it hesitated. It could sense danger, smell another living presence in the vicinity, although not one it recognised, yet, it could see nothing.
An imperceptible, red glow moved slowly around the broken shards of glass that littered the floor and stopped again. The creature tensed. Now that it had something to focus on it could clearly see the outline of a figure. The creature instinctively knew that what it saw wasn’t human, but instinct also told it, that if it gave off body heat then blood coursed through its veins. A sense of warmth filled its being as its heart beat increased, adrenalin levels rose and saliva dripped once more from its jaws.
The figure, no matter how much he stared, could not penetrate the darkness on the stairs. He knew however, that what ever was in the house, what ever he’d been sent here to kill was aware of his presence and that meant that not only was he now in danger but yet again those that had sent him had detected the mutation to late. Avoiding the broken glass, he slowly moved to the left and made his way towards the stairs stopping before he left the confines of the living area. He could hear the rasping breath of the creature now, and could see the faint glow of its eyes through the banister, its sharp fangs glistening, its gaze focused intently upon him. Any advantage he had in maintaining his ethereal appearance was now lost, the creature could obviously see him and he needed all his strength. Relaxing, slowly he began to reappear, his body glistening with perspiration, not only from the energy exerted, but from the anxiety of the moment. He tensed his muscles and waited for the inevitability of battle.
He did not have to wait long; the creature exploded through the banister, splinters of wood scattering in all directions. It was more luck, than judgment that allowed him to parry the creature’s lunge. Bringing the staff up across his chest, he used the creature’s momentum to avoid the blow, but the force caused him to lose his balance and he fell against the wall. In a lightning quick movement, the creature, sensing an advantage, turned and attacked, its talons narrowly missing his head as he managed to duck, the creature's claws embedding themselves in the plaster where his head had been, gouging deep scratch marks in the wall. Rolling to the left, the figure turned and brought the bladed end of the staff up in a slicing movement catching the creature’s arm as it turned. Blood spattered across the room and the creature howled in pain, but, as always the wound healed before his eyes as the creature, more cautiously now, circled him looking for any weakness it could exploit. The battle continued; parry after parry, thrust after thrust, twice more the creature rent the plaster near where he had been but neither side gained any advantage. As time moved on however, the creature’s attacks became more frantic. Its movements more desperate until finally it managed to break through his defences. Claws raked down his shoulder and across his chest and he fell back against the wall, pain exploding in his mind. The creature stopped and licked at the fresh blood dripping from its claws, its eyes turning crimson as it examined its prey. Instinctively he lashed out with the staff, catching the creatures hand as it pulled away. The blade tore through just below the knuckles, removing two of the creatures fingers, then clattered to the floor as it was wrenched away from his grasp. The creature snarled and backed away, licking at its wound. On the floor, the fingers gradually reverted back to human form, blood oozing from the severed digits, the stain spreading out across the carpet. He had little time left; he was fading fast and if the creature killed him all was lost. Weakened by the wound, he fell to his knees but managed to raise himself up again by picking up the staff from where it had landed. With his left hand he used it to force himself upright, the right arm dangling uselessly by his side. The creature, momentarily dazed by the pain from its severed fingers, continued to lick at its wound but he knew this would not last long. Already he could see the bones reforming and the skin regenerating but more than this he could see the hunger returning into the creature’s crimson eyes. He took a faltering step forward but his mind began to swim so he stopped and steadied himself on the staff. The creature sensing that his prey was close to death, began to move again. The figure knew he only had seconds left, he was too weak to continue the fight; he had to let the creature come to him so bracing himself against the wall he waited.
The creature, unsettled by the stinging wound still fresh in its mind, hesitated. It moved, back and forth, watching its prey closely. It could see it was weakening fast, blood seeping from the wound, dripping slowly to the floor. The creature could see its prey falter, it knew it only had to wait; but the hunger, the thirst. The blood lust once again began to build and intensify and with one final guttural growl the creature leapt.
The figure saw the creature move and with the last of his strength levelled the staff at the creature’s chest, which, unable to react, impaled itself on the blade. Falling to one side the figure twisted, freeing the staff and forced the creature away with his leg.
An intense blue glow erupted from where the blade had penetrated and engulfed the creature; the silver blade shattering into millions of tiny pieces which entered the creature’s bloodstream. It lay on its back convulsing, foaming at the mouth as the glow gradually dissipated before finally its eyes glazed over and it lay still. After awhile the eyes turned milky white and the body slowly reverted back, becoming Ashton once more.
The figure rose and made his way unsteadily to the kitchen where he had left his backpack, supporting himself on his staff. He withdrew a large knife with a dark blue blade, its handle ebony black and made his way back to where Ashton’s body lay.
Kneeling down beside the body he held the knife over Ashton’s throat and closed his eyes. The blade began to pulse with a deep blue light, the rhythm gradual increasing then with all his might he severed the head from the body. This time there was no blood, the wound neatly cauterized. The figure took the blade and drove it straight into the floor. After a short time the hilt began to glow, increasing in intensity, as faint luminescent particles drifted up into the air until finally the knife vanished from existence.
At that moment the sound of sirens broke the silence as two police vehicles came to a screeching halt outside.The figure rose, took one last look at the body and gingerly made his way back to the kitchen. Taking a small object from the backpack, he carefully slung the pack, back over his good shoulder, opened the back door and froze.
From the front the sound of banging and shouting could be heard as the police officers tried to gain entry to the house. A third car pulled up and he heard the officers shout, letting the others know he was going round the back. Looking up he saw the security light had come on so he lifted his staff and shattered it before disappearing once more. The door shut quietly and for a second the kitchen was illuminated by a faint glow then everything went dark once more.
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Prologue
The two, tall, grey aliens stared at the image of their home world on the viewing screen in front of them, its picture mirrored in the dark pool of their unblinking eyes.
No communication passed between them, but their sadness; a mournful, sorrowful sadness, was clearly visible on their up turned faces.
They had made their choice, to sacrifice themselves, knowing that there was nothing else left; the terrible thing which had been created had to be destroyed. Hours of meditation asking for forgiveness, had helped them to come to terms with their own mortality, but now, all alone in this tiny vessel, it was the silence, a deep oppressive silence that played on their minds the most. It filled every orifice, enveloping them until it felt like they could no longer breathe and its enormity weighed down their hearts. They knew it had to be done, so that others like themselves, now safely on the Mothership, would have a future. They also knew by committing this act, that not only would they be killing their own kind, both family and friends, but also other innocent individuals of other races which populated the planet. That’s if you could call it that, what remained of that population, was a shadow of its former self, now a degenerate, violent, animal like existence where incessant feeding and blood lust was all that passed between them. There had been beauty there once; the ether had been full of thoughts of peace and love, and then came the war. It had gone on for so long that its root cause had been lost in history, but now even that was gone, replaced with nothing but hunger and carnivorous longing.
A red light began to blink on and off in the centre of the control panel below the screen. Neither of the spacecraft’s occupants noticed it at first, lost in their own private thoughts, but its steady rhythm of illumination dragged them back to the present.
Staring at the panel the first alien lowered the self imposed barriers of his mind and telepathically communicated with his companion
“It is time my friend!”
“May the holy one forgive us for our greed!”
“And warm may his welcome be in Heaven” his companion sent back
With that, the first alien flicked on the tactical display and entered the target coordinates. After a few moments; lights flashing on and off as the computer performed the necessary calculations, a faint, blue aura appeared surrounding the image of the planet on the screen. With the target located, the red light changed to amber and a sound not unlike that of static discharge, quiet at first, but slowly building in intensity, filled the ship. The second alien looked at his companion then placed one hand over the light, the other following suit before they both turned their attention back to the screen. As the weapons charged, the light’s pulse increased and its colour turned slowly from amber to green. To the two occupants of the spacecraft it seemed that their hearts were keeping time to the pulse, the beat steadily increasing until suddenly it stopped. Both aliens took a deep intake of breath as their hearts appeared to skip a beat but it was only an illusion. The aura surrounding the planet on the screen changed from blue to yellow showing that the weapons were now fully charged so with one final look at their Homeworld they closed their eyes and ordered the ship to fire.
A stream of plasma erupted from the ship hitting the planet with an almighty force and engulfing it in a huge ball of lightning. As the atmosphere caught fire the planet began to turn, first yellow, and then bright orange as the fires intensity increased. The stream of plasma then ceased and the two aliens watched in awe as the ball of lightning began to shrink, crushing the planet in its vice like grasp; the planet turning blood red before their eyes. Finally, the wait was over, the planet turned white hot, the light so intense the two aliens had to shield their eyes, and then it exploded, destroying the ship and extinguishing the life within it. Like a stone thrown into water, multicolored concentric waves of force moved out into space carrying planetary debris in all directions.
Chapter One
It was dark in the house when Ashton arrived, dark and lonely. Since the death of his parents in the car crash, the world seemed empty, no more laughter or joy. The nightmares he’d been having had grown more intense of late, changing direction, expanding into unknown territory. Ashton had been lying asleep on the back seat when the lorry had pulled out; that was what had saved him.
He shivered and began to feel faint as he remembered the jolt that had woken him; then opening his eyes to see the decapitated heads of his parents, staring lifelessly from their resting place in the back of the car. The world around him began to sway as dizziness took control and the now all too familiar sick feeling grew in the pit of his stomach, something that had become common of late when these haunting memories returned to taunt him.
Entering the house, he closed the door behind him, ensuring it was locked before switching on the hallway light and dumping his keys and wallet on the table by the stairs. He had not moved out of his parents’ place after their death, he knew mostly everyone in the street and the familiarity comforted him. It wasn’t that it was a spectacular house either, one of many terraced houses in the street, cream in colour, just like all the rest. Neither had he changed the interior in any way; still the same cracked ice wallpaper peeling at the corners, still the same, flower patterned suite in the living area, the arms slightly thread bare through years of use. Ashton knew that eventually he would have to change things, but right now he wanted to hold on to his parents’ memories and this was as close as he could get.
He made his way to the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with ice from the fridge, he then returned through the hallway to the open plan living room heading straight for the cocktail cabinet. Pulling out a bottle of scotch he opened it and poured himself a generous measure, downing it in one. Pouring a second measure, he replaced the top and put the scotch back in the cabinet. Sitting on the sofa Ashton felt the mobile ring in his pocket and took it out. He’d not spoken to his girlfriend since the funeral over four weeks ago and as he stared at the words flashing on the screen he realized that he wasn’t ready to break that silence now. Throwing the phone down on the seat next to him he let it ring until the answer-phone kicked in and picked up the television remote. It was 10 o’clock, and the only thing showing was the news, he got bored quickly and switched the television off, deciding that perhaps he should go to bed, he was still feeling dizzy and nauseas and he had to be in work early. Finishing the scotch, he left the glass on the side and made his way upstairs switching the light off as he went.
Outside the night was cool; a light breeze ruffled the leaves of the rose bushes planted at regular intervals along the street. Gradually house lights began to wink out as the residents made their way to bed. A cat, out on its nightly prowl, hunting for mice trotted across the road, darting between the rose bushes on the opposite side and paused at the entrance to an alley way that connected this street with the next. The fences on either side were high and the light from the street lamps did not penetrate very far, but the cat could sense something was not right. It sniffed the air. Suddenly there was a crackling sound and a faint flash of light, not bright enough to be seen from the road, but, for a split second, bright enough to illuminate a figure crouched in the alley way. The Cat, startled by the noise did not wait long enough to see the figure emerge from the alley and start to make his way down the street before seeming to disappear into thin air.
Shadows flicked across Ashton’s face as he lay on the bed, cast by the swaying leaves on the tree in the back garden that filtered the light from the moon through the bedroom window. Images from the crash tormented his mind as he slept, he eyes darting frantically under closed lids. He felt a great hunger, when remembering the scent of fresh blood that filled the air in the enclosed space of the car. In his dream Ashton looked down at his hands which were now covered in a jet black hair, tipped with sharp talons, and the severed heads, no longer those of his parents, but of some deformed monstrosity, whispered incessantly in some macabre tongue. He shivered in his sleep as beads of sweat began to form on his body. Looking up from his hands he discovered that he was no longer in the car but at the end of his street looking down the row of terraced houses, the whispering still echoing in his mind. Further down the path a lonely figure was making its way home. The feeling of hunger increased as he watched; then, slowly at first, but gradually increasing in speed he set off in pursuit. Ashton’s body began to twitch, imperceptibly, then gradually more violently as the intensity of his nightmare increased. He was almost on his prey now, its smell making his hunger unbearable. The figure then turned, and for the first time he realized he had been pursuing himself. With a taloned hand he reached out and tore at the throat. The twitching stopped and Ashton’s eyes shot open to reveal bright yellow eyes with dilated, cat like pupils. His mouth opened and he tried to scream, but this was cut short as the sound of cracking bone filled the air. First his fingers then his toes began to lengthen to be topped with sharp, steel like talons; the front of his face began to protrude to form a muzzle and jet black hair covered his body. One by one his ribs cracked and extended as his body contorted. The creature stared out the window at the moon and roared its defiance, its long, canine fangs glistening with saliva.
Downstairs a pane of glass on the back door imploded, the key mysteriously turned in the lock and the door slid quietly open and shut again as if of its own accord. A strange disturbance in the air seemed to float across the kitchen leaving damp footprints in its wake, gradually disappearing as the moisture dried in the warmth of the house. At the start of the hallway it stopped and slowly a nude figure, male in appearance, seemed to materialize from thin air. He was wearing a pack on his back and carrying a long, ornately carved, silver staff, finished off with a curved, sharp blade at one end. Leaning the staff against the wall he removed the pack and placed it carefully on the kitchen table. His body was adorned in a strange tattoo, which appeared to glow in the light of the moon shining through the window. Facially, his features were soft, or slightly undefined probably would have been a better description. Picking up the staff he moved into the living area adjacent to the hall, disappearing into the shadows. Startled by a loud roar emanating from somewhere upstairs, he span round, knocking a glass of the side which shattered when it hit the floor.
The creature that was Ashton stopped and listened. A sound, picked up by its heightened senses caught its attention. The door to the bedroom was open and the creature carefully moved out into the corridor and quietly made its way to the top of the stairs; paused, listened, then slowly descended the stairs stopping again halfway down. Peering through the banister into the darkness of the living room it hesitated. It could sense danger, smell another living presence in the vicinity, although not one it recognised, yet, it could see nothing.
An imperceptible, red glow moved slowly around the broken shards of glass that littered the floor and stopped again. The creature tensed. Now that it had something to focus on it could clearly see the outline of a figure. The creature instinctively knew that what it saw wasn’t human, but instinct also told it, that if it gave off body heat then blood coursed through its veins. A sense of warmth filled its being as its heart beat increased, adrenalin levels rose and saliva dripped once more from its jaws.
The figure, no matter how much he stared, could not penetrate the darkness on the stairs. He knew however, that what ever was in the house, what ever he’d been sent here to kill was aware of his presence and that meant that not only was he now in danger but yet again those that had sent him had detected the mutation to late. Avoiding the broken glass, he slowly moved to the left and made his way towards the stairs stopping before he left the confines of the living area. He could hear the rasping breath of the creature now, and could see the faint glow of its eyes through the banister, its sharp fangs glistening, its gaze focused intently upon him. Any advantage he had in maintaining his ethereal appearance was now lost, the creature could obviously see him and he needed all his strength. Relaxing, slowly he began to reappear, his body glistening with perspiration, not only from the energy exerted, but from the anxiety of the moment. He tensed his muscles and waited for the inevitability of battle.
He did not have to wait long; the creature exploded through the banister, splinters of wood scattering in all directions. It was more luck, than judgment that allowed him to parry the creature’s lunge. Bringing the staff up across his chest, he used the creature’s momentum to avoid the blow, but the force caused him to lose his balance and he fell against the wall. In a lightning quick movement, the creature, sensing an advantage, turned and attacked, its talons narrowly missing his head as he managed to duck, the creature's claws embedding themselves in the plaster where his head had been, gouging deep scratch marks in the wall. Rolling to the left, the figure turned and brought the bladed end of the staff up in a slicing movement catching the creature’s arm as it turned. Blood spattered across the room and the creature howled in pain, but, as always the wound healed before his eyes as the creature, more cautiously now, circled him looking for any weakness it could exploit. The battle continued; parry after parry, thrust after thrust, twice more the creature rent the plaster near where he had been but neither side gained any advantage. As time moved on however, the creature’s attacks became more frantic. Its movements more desperate until finally it managed to break through his defences. Claws raked down his shoulder and across his chest and he fell back against the wall, pain exploding in his mind. The creature stopped and licked at the fresh blood dripping from its claws, its eyes turning crimson as it examined its prey. Instinctively he lashed out with the staff, catching the creatures hand as it pulled away. The blade tore through just below the knuckles, removing two of the creatures fingers, then clattered to the floor as it was wrenched away from his grasp. The creature snarled and backed away, licking at its wound. On the floor, the fingers gradually reverted back to human form, blood oozing from the severed digits, the stain spreading out across the carpet. He had little time left; he was fading fast and if the creature killed him all was lost. Weakened by the wound, he fell to his knees but managed to raise himself up again by picking up the staff from where it had landed. With his left hand he used it to force himself upright, the right arm dangling uselessly by his side. The creature, momentarily dazed by the pain from its severed fingers, continued to lick at its wound but he knew this would not last long. Already he could see the bones reforming and the skin regenerating but more than this he could see the hunger returning into the creature’s crimson eyes. He took a faltering step forward but his mind began to swim so he stopped and steadied himself on the staff. The creature sensing that his prey was close to death, began to move again. The figure knew he only had seconds left, he was too weak to continue the fight; he had to let the creature come to him so bracing himself against the wall he waited.
The creature, unsettled by the stinging wound still fresh in its mind, hesitated. It moved, back and forth, watching its prey closely. It could see it was weakening fast, blood seeping from the wound, dripping slowly to the floor. The creature could see its prey falter, it knew it only had to wait; but the hunger, the thirst. The blood lust once again began to build and intensify and with one final guttural growl the creature leapt.
The figure saw the creature move and with the last of his strength levelled the staff at the creature’s chest, which, unable to react, impaled itself on the blade. Falling to one side the figure twisted, freeing the staff and forced the creature away with his leg.
An intense blue glow erupted from where the blade had penetrated and engulfed the creature; the silver blade shattering into millions of tiny pieces which entered the creature’s bloodstream. It lay on its back convulsing, foaming at the mouth as the glow gradually dissipated before finally its eyes glazed over and it lay still. After awhile the eyes turned milky white and the body slowly reverted back, becoming Ashton once more.
The figure rose and made his way unsteadily to the kitchen where he had left his backpack, supporting himself on his staff. He withdrew a large knife with a dark blue blade, its handle ebony black and made his way back to where Ashton’s body lay.
Kneeling down beside the body he held the knife over Ashton’s throat and closed his eyes. The blade began to pulse with a deep blue light, the rhythm gradual increasing then with all his might he severed the head from the body. This time there was no blood, the wound neatly cauterized. The figure took the blade and drove it straight into the floor. After a short time the hilt began to glow, increasing in intensity, as faint luminescent particles drifted up into the air until finally the knife vanished from existence.
At that moment the sound of sirens broke the silence as two police vehicles came to a screeching halt outside.The figure rose, took one last look at the body and gingerly made his way back to the kitchen. Taking a small object from the backpack, he carefully slung the pack, back over his good shoulder, opened the back door and froze.
From the front the sound of banging and shouting could be heard as the police officers tried to gain entry to the house. A third car pulled up and he heard the officers shout, letting the others know he was going round the back. Looking up he saw the security light had come on so he lifted his staff and shattered it before disappearing once more. The door shut quietly and for a second the kitchen was illuminated by a faint glow then everything went dark once more.
