Thursday, June 9, 2011
he was living-dead,
Well…
It wasn’t surprising, really. Nothing living could have endured what he had. So…he was living-dead, then. There were worse things to be. At least he was animate and mobile. At least he had a chance for vengeance.
Best to get the lay of the land. He returned his attentions to the world around him. The sky was blood red, and there seemed to be no sun. Rather, the whole thing glowed in the deepest crimson. Interesting.
Now, the field of the dead . . . he gazed out over it. At first it seemed infinite. A single vast wasteland of arms, legs, shattered bodies, bits of flesh rotting as watched.
But, then, gradually, he realized there was a limit to it. Far, far away, almost beyond the range of his vision, there seemed to be a wall of some sort, rising and containing the spillage of cadavers. Ah.
Just then, some instinct warned him. Without thinking he threw himself to one side.
There was an enormous crash of metal. He whirled about to see a huge metal scoop or claw, like the open mouth of a steam shovel, crashing into the mound of bodies. He watched as it closed around a great mouthful of the dead, and then rose into the air, spilling bits of flesh as it did.
It wasn’t surprising, really. Nothing living could have endured what he had. So…he was living-dead, then. There were worse things to be. At least he was animate and mobile. At least he had a chance for vengeance.
Best to get the lay of the land. He returned his attentions to the world around him. The sky was blood red, and there seemed to be no sun. Rather, the whole thing glowed in the deepest crimson. Interesting.
Now, the field of the dead . . . he gazed out over it. At first it seemed infinite. A single vast wasteland of arms, legs, shattered bodies, bits of flesh rotting as watched.
But, then, gradually, he realized there was a limit to it. Far, far away, almost beyond the range of his vision, there seemed to be a wall of some sort, rising and containing the spillage of cadavers. Ah.
Just then, some instinct warned him. Without thinking he threw himself to one side.
There was an enormous crash of metal. He whirled about to see a huge metal scoop or claw, like the open mouth of a steam shovel, crashing into the mound of bodies. He watched as it closed around a great mouthful of the dead, and then rose into the air, spilling bits of flesh as it did.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Shai’ol
Lester stood, unthinking, gasping in the air…
He could breathe! He could breathe!
He did not wonder how it was that he’d been able to survive under a mountain of rotting bodies. He did not wonder how long he had been there. He did not wonder what malevolent force had cast him into this hell.
He simply stood and let the air fill his lungs. To breathe!
Gradually, he began to become aware of his surroundings. He stood, he discovered, in a middle of a vast field of the dead. Bodies stretched off in all directions as far as he could see.
Bodies . . . twisted, mutilated, some partly burned. Here was an eyeless head, the scalp half removed so the skull gleamed in the red light. There was a torso, legless, armless, its genitalia ripped away by some savage force.
They were nude. None seemed to have clothing.
Which reminded him. He glanced down at himself. Oh, fucking hell. He was nude as well, but the problem was his body itself. A vast, gapping, hideous wound stretched from his throat to his groin. Heart, lungs, guts. . . all were on display.
He did not bleed. The wound was dry. No blood flowed. He checked his pulse.
There wasn’t any.
He could breathe! He could breathe!
He did not wonder how it was that he’d been able to survive under a mountain of rotting bodies. He did not wonder how long he had been there. He did not wonder what malevolent force had cast him into this hell.
He simply stood and let the air fill his lungs. To breathe!
Gradually, he began to become aware of his surroundings. He stood, he discovered, in a middle of a vast field of the dead. Bodies stretched off in all directions as far as he could see.
Bodies . . . twisted, mutilated, some partly burned. Here was an eyeless head, the scalp half removed so the skull gleamed in the red light. There was a torso, legless, armless, its genitalia ripped away by some savage force.
They were nude. None seemed to have clothing.
Which reminded him. He glanced down at himself. Oh, fucking hell. He was nude as well, but the problem was his body itself. A vast, gapping, hideous wound stretched from his throat to his groin. Heart, lungs, guts. . . all were on display.
He did not bleed. The wound was dry. No blood flowed. He checked his pulse.
There wasn’t any.
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