a tale from the cycle
A deep rumble shuttered through the ancient masonry stacked into labrythine corridors, dust shuffled from deep cracks, spiraling in the soft fetid air, as glowing lanterns emanated warm amber light dancing across the irregular weather worn surface of the stones. Buckling, timber beams sighed as the splintered slats of hardwood flexed the high vaulted ceiling in the shadowed crevices above the grand butressed pillars and arch ways.
A man sat along the wall on a bench, legs pulled up and resting along the smoothed wooden surface, a tattered tapestry flowing idly above against the wall. Cracked leather boots, dark blue denim jumpsuit pants tucked in, oversized jacket covering the unzipped torso, a simple grey tshirt beneath. A back pack slunched down beside the bench, open, a series of foil sealed food packets strewn around the inside, rifle rounds scattered between. He turned a long rifle over in his hands, inspecting the weathered wood stock, the carbon build up in the chamber.
Titanic pane-less windows stretched up on the wall on the other side of the hall, allowing cool moonlight to fall in and mingle with the orangey fire glows. A tranquil black sea sparkled warbling reflections of the moon and the sea of twinkling stars high above. A narrow stone paved walkway ran just outside the window, large dark bricks marked a short wall before a shear cliff to the water.
The man, wiping the inside of the rifle with a muddied rag, continued to maintain the weapon.
Crackling out distorted jazz, a radio sat beside the figure.
—
A dull clunk echoed off the walls into the high ceilings as the man walked slowly down a hallway, backpack bobbing with each step, rifle slung across its chest. Stopping an open archway, the large wooden door resting ajar, it’s cracked unfinished surface, dust settling in the ancient grooves and fissures. Beyond a large dining room, table draped in a yellowed cloth, chairs strewn about the outskirts against the semi-tattered tapestries resting in the breezeless air.
He moved in, footsteps muffled by the mildewed red carpet running the center of the floor. A grand fireplace rose from the wall at the other end beyond the table, its embers cold and ash strewn about the hearth. Hanging down from the cokey chimney, fronds of a strange fungus stretched out into the room, the gills relaxed and it’s form decaying.
Scant moonlight fell in through the doorway, giving minimal visibility within beyond shadows and impression. Rifle ready, grip tightening, the man made his way within.
Movement in the periphery caught his attention and the sights of the rifle. A weeping-like shadow moaned from the corner, it’s form obscured and organic. A festering pop as it rose to full height, a tendril dangled from its head-thing, faint dripping from its detached nozzle.
The shadow shambled closer, its moves unsteady as it passed into the column of light. Sickly grey skin clung tight around knobby bones, bloodless gashes spotted about. The creature raised a fingerless hand, complex tendrils ensnared the stump. The head hung low, fleshless and skull cracked, a pulsating bulb grew from the neck, partial skull bones pulled in tight around it, two reflective pink eyes stared at the man looking down his rifle.
A crack burst out as a round careened from the barrel and tore through the bulb, clumpy green mist lingering where it had been. The body slumped over into a pile of discarded flesh.
—
