Work in progress

This is something that I have been working on for a while. When I wrote this, it was intended to be the start of a novel. But, I am now thinking of migrating it to another medium.

Anyway, it’s a little bit disturbing, but it’s meant to be:



The world had failed.

He lay on the side of a road which he did not recognise. Wounded, perhaps mortally. Blood was oozing from his stomach where the spear had punctured him. The pain was fading, and he was becoming scared.

He stumbled to his feet. The sounds of battle could still be heard to the north, and he knew, if there was battle, there would be medics. Perhaps, if he could only find his way there, death may not reach him first.

He took a step, and his pain resurfaced. His vision clouded and he dropped to his knees. He tried to rise again, but felt a ripping sensation near his wounded stomach. He grit his teeth and forced his legs under him one more time. Blood was flowing freely now, down his legs in red rivers of life.

He staggered a few steps, making it to the middle of the road. There were bodies everywhere. Torn, slashed, crushed. So much pain, so such suffering. It would be hard for a man’s mind to take, if he hadn’t already seen far worse. Things to make this road seem tame. Like a child’s playground in comparison.

Several more steps and he tripped. His knees drove into the dirt, sending shockwaves of pain through his wounded gut. He grimaced, and his hands instinctively clutched to his stomach. When the waves of pain had passed, he pulled his hands away, only to find them red and dripping. He didn’t know how much more blood he had to spare.

Up he climbed again. Darkness tried to grip him and push him back down, but he fought against. If he passed out now, he knew he would not wake up.

But the darkness seemed to beckon him. Almost, speak to him.

‘Feast,’ he heard it say.

Feast? he wondered? Had he really heard that? He wasn’t sure. The pain was slowly ebbing away. He took another step. His mind cleared.

‘Feast!’ The voice was far more insistent this time. He looked around, but could see no-one. He shook his head. It must be the blood loss, he thought.

‘FEAST!’ The voice was powerful, and appeared to come from every direction at once. The ground trembled with the sound. The man looked left and right, up and down. Still nothing. Fear was coursing through him. He felt the voice. Its power had blasted through his body.

The man continued to walk. Slowly, step by step.

Up ahead, the man noticed something strange. A tree started to fall into shadow. Just one, seeming with no reason.

He moved towards the darkness. ‘Good,’ the voice whispered quietly to him. ‘Feast.’

As he approached, he could see something in the shadow. He moved in closer, the pain forgotten in his imagined madness. The sunlight penetrated the shadow, but only enough to let the man see glimpses of what was inside.

‘Enter. Feast.’

He slipped into the shadows. There was a darkness of a kind. It was oppressive, and hung in the air like fog on a windless morning. He could see, but only barely. There was an eerie red light. He couldn’t see where is was coming from, but it seemed everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

He took a cautious step, then another. A third step, and he tripped. He toppled forward, landing hard on his chest. His face hit something soft and wet, cushioning the blow. He crawled to his hands and knees and lifted this face. There was something on the ground in front of him. He couldn’t make out what it was, but it was warm. He licked his lips, tasting the liquid. It was meat.

He reached out and picked up some of the meat and took a bite. It was good. Almost immediately, he felt stronger. The pain in his stomach dimmed to almost nothing. He took another bite, and another wave of invigoration swept through him. He began to gorge, stuffing handfuls of meat into his mouth. Chewing and swallowing. Over and over. More than he thought he could possibly eat.

Soon, he slowed. He felt strong, stronger than he had ever felt. He felt for the wound on his stomach and found it gone.

The darkness started to dissolve. The world around him came back into view. He looked down, curious to see what he had been eating. Revulsion flushed through him as he saw his meal. He scrambled backwards, trying to put distance himself and what he had just done. He slammed into a tree, a large one, and heard the trunk crack behind him. Still, his eyes would not, could not, look away.

It was a fallen angel.

Half the creature was missing. Bones, flesh, everything. Gone. He hoped he wasn’t responsible. But, deep down, he knew that he was. He had eaten, and enjoyed, the flesh of God’s soldiers.

He sat, shuddering. For how long he sat there, he wasn’t sure. His mind worked through what had happened. He should have felt worse. Like vomiting. Or even ending his miserable existence. But he didn’t. The new strength he possess intrigued him. His mind felt open, free.

A rhythmic stomping came from the west, along the road he had been walking. Soldiers appeared from the mist. Red eyed soldiers. Rapture soldiers. The man stood. For a moment he was unsure. The soldiers marched towards him, all red eyes faced forward. Disciplined and deadly. Without a word, they stopped. They turned in unison, facing the man.

The voice again echoed, but this time the man was sure he heard it only in his mind. It filled him with strength. Purpose. Clarity.

‘Now – rule!’

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