Bebo

Hoofdstukken lezen

	Revenge and Betrayal
	November 15th, 3856, Noth, A.E Within Noth Forest, in the southern most outskirts of Gorneth, on one particularly dark and gloomy night, 3 boys were out talking around a log fire. They were making jokes while drinking random assortments of alcohol. The first of the boys, Bill, was rather thin, lanky Scottish lad. He wore a red sweater with black jeans and trainers. His long, blond hair tied back with an elastic band framed his pale features. On the outside he looked young, but the look in his deep, green eyes gave him the appearance of being much older – though he was only 17. Max, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. His ebony hair stuck out in every direction from the crown of his head in short spikes. It then eased out into longer strands, which flowed over his back and shoulders. His once youthful face sported a scruffy tuft of facial hair on his chin, yet his eyebrows were delicately shaped. Flopped against a log in a tight black tee, skinny jeans and combat boots, his icy blue eyes falling upon the ‘ring leader’ of their company. Joe, a Brunet with a style all of his own, that any one with any common decency would not follow his example of ‘good dressing’. Do not be fooled by the innocent, yet irresistible, puppy looks he gives from the corner of his enchanting, sapphire eyes. Nor the dashing flicks of the head, to move obstructing hair out of his handsome face. The sly, yet dazzling grin he gives to the ladies. He’s a heartbreaker, and he knows it. Prancing around in a black silk ‘pretty boy shirt’, he wore it half open, with the collar sticking up. His tanned skin, which seemed to smother the upper half of his strongly built body, glowed bronze in the firelight. His right bicep housed a black tribal tattoo. It was so dark, in comparison to the complexion of his skin that it almost acted like a black hole - absorbing every speck of light that landed on it. This could be seen through the cut out shoulders of his shirt. He was in the middle of telling the others a rather saucy tale, when out of the blue; a howl erupted into the night. The conversations stopped and they listened to the high-pitched sound. Joe told the other two that he was going for more firewood but they didn’t hear him. Off into the woods Joe began to collect twigs and sticks, he then heard movement around him. After stopping and looking around, continuing on his way and then stopping again, he started to panic. Thinking that it would be best for him to head back, he did so. But which way did he come? Was it by the pine tree or the oak? Could it have even been past the huge sycamore? The howling started up again and Joe broke out into a run in a random direction. A large furry beast jumped out of the darkness and took off after him on all fours. While running, Joe could hear the sound of heavy padded feet hitting the ground behind him. Faster and faster, like the beat of a drum. His heartbeat raced. His breath quickened and before he had barely begun, he found himself face first in the dirt. Cursing under his breath, he made an attempt to get up, only to be pinned down by 4 very large paws. In his mind, 'Shit' Joe pondered how he was going to get himself out of this one. He certainly couldn’t flirt his way out, no way in hell he could do that. There was only one option left. He suddenly went very limp under the beast; attempting to play dead...It didn’t work. The beast growled at him, clawing his back and bared its teeth, snarling. A ripping sound coursed over, along with a hiss from Joe’s lips as his shirt and back got torn to shreds. A few drops of drool landed on his not-so-silk-covered bloody back and slowly soaked into the smooth material. When the wet substance came into contact with his skin, a both a shiver of disgust ran and a sharp sting through him. It had obviously killed many victims this night as it’s crave for blood ran clear, alarm bells going off in Joe’s mind. The smell of death was heavy in the air. It made Joe feel sick. The beast seemed to enjoy it as it looked rather refreshed and enlightened. 'Like a little sniff of heaven, but if heaven smelled this bad, please dear god, send me to hell.' Joe thought, not fancying this kind of wake up call every morning for the rest of his after life. His bemused thoughts were interrupted as a brief shot of pain, sending his heart a flutter, exploded into excruciating spasms. Upon the weight of the beast leaving him, Joe rolled over, clutching his arm and panting out in pain. There was a lovely, deep bite in his arm, with a few even lovelier chunks of flesh ripped out of it. Joe looked ahead of him and saw the beast run off into the darkness, then over into the trees he saw Bill and Max running over to him. “Holy Shit, what the hell happened to you?” Max asked, rather sarcastically, as usual. “Pipe down; we’ve got to get out of here.” Bill said to Max as they helped Joe up. “Bill, behind you!” Max yelled as they all dropped to the floor, Joe in their arms, as the beast bounded off into the woods in front of them, after jumping over the three lads, who were sprawled on the ground. Bill and Max scrabbled to their feet, Joe in tow, and raced over to, which looked like, just an old shack. Just as they reached it, the beast was heading towards them again. “Jeeze, what the hell did you do to the bleeding thing?” Max cursed, asking Joe. “I don’t know. Perhaps it just likes the taste of my blood and flesh? And if you haven’t noticed already, I’m the one bleeding here!” Joe yelled at his panicking companions. “Oh shut your yapping and help me open this frigging door.” Bill shouted, calling order to the short-lived discussion. The boys ran down to the shack and opened the cellar door. Still running as they travelled down the slippy, slimy steps into the gloom. Bill and Joe slipped, but of course, and slit down on their backsides, as Max followed, managing not to slip and quickly closed the heavy door behind them. There was a loud bang on the door and something heavy flopped against it. The beast had hit its head on the door and knocked itself out. The cellar was cold, dark and smelly. It had obviously not been opened for years by the state of the place. A sound at the door aroused the lads’ senses; the beast was up and awake again but was now gnawing at the door. It wanted to be in. “Oh! Odd sort of place this…do you live here? Oww! Kidding,” Max said jokingly, but was hit on the arm hard by Bill. “Will you ever stop joking at times like this? Its all over, we’re done for. This was a totally bogus idea anyway. Why did I let you two talk me into this in the first place? ” Bill asked sitting on the table in the corner next to Joe. It was only then that they heard another noise. There was scuttling… The boys looked around. First over the walls, then the ceiling, before finally the floor, only to find great, big, huge spiders with long, hairy, spindly legs came crawling up from a hole. They had long sharp fangs with green venom dripping from the tips. “Oh, a hole in the floor, how original.” Max joked again slightly lightening the atmosphere a bit. Bill let a girlish scream as one of the blood-sucking spiders started to climb up the table leg. “No! You. Won’t. Kill. Me. I. Won’t. Let. You!” Bill pressed out every word as he kicked at the spider with his leg. Two little spiders clambered onto his foot and held on for dear life as Bill kicked and screamed his head off trying to get rid of them. “Ahh! Get them off! Get them off! Ohhh the horror–! It’s gruesome! Help me. Help me. Help m–” Bills mantra of terror was silence by a flying rock, which Max had thrown at him, from the other side of the room, in order to silence the teen’s very girlish screams. “Shut up and kill the bloody things.” Max yelled while hitting a large spider over the head with an old chair. But Max failed to notice the iddy, biddy little spiders crawling up and under his trouser leg. They sunk their fangs into his skin and started to inject venom. Clenching his teeth, Max tried to ignore the pain. Smashing the chair on top of the spider that he’d been engaged in battle with, he ran over to the door. But stopped in his tracks as the beast stuffed its nose into the hole it had made so far and growled at him. Max backed away from the door, but that was he worst mistake. The spider that he’d just fought came up behind him and put its front legs on Max’s shoulders. In one fluid movement, sunk its fangs into his shoulder, dragged him down into the hole and into the dark depths. The rest of the spiders in the room scurried back into the hole after him. Max’s screams were short lived as his throat became non-existent. Bill and Joe were dumb struck. How many bad things could happen in such a short amount of time? Bill imagined that there would be nothing left but bones down there. Joe got down from the table he had been sitting on. Squashing a few little spiders, which were still fleeing to their freshly caught feast, and walked over to Bill. In totally and utter shock Bill stared at the hole in the floor. He’d tried to help Max he really did. But somehow he felt as if he’d betrayed his best friend. He wasn’t able to save him yet he could have. “Why is all this happening? Why? Why tonight?” Bill asked to a muted Joe. He never took his eyes off the hole in the floor. Joe silently brushed himself off, only to flop onto the floor. Lying on his side, he walked his index and middle finger tips across the floor, crushing little spiders as he went. Bill was growing hysterical; his breathing came out in short pants, before his fists clenched tightly. Letting out a scream of anguish, he grabbed Joe by the collar of his shirt, effectively pulling him off the floor, and shook him violently. “Why didn’t you help him? You were right next to him, and you did nothing–” “Oh, and what about you? I didn’t exactly see you running to his rescue either.” Joe interrupted, angrily. “I had my hands full–” Bill counteracted, only to be interrupted again. “Oh yeah, with what? All I heard, and saw, you doing was having a very girly screaming fit. You know if you had spent more time killing and less time screaming, like Max told you to, he would still be–” Joe argued back, making a very good point, his patience growing thin. “Don’t try to blame this on me. I was on the other side of the room, with my own problems. You, on the other hand, were sitting, SITTING 2 feet away from him. What on Gorneth were you playing at?” Bill was on the verge of tears. “If he wanted help, he should have asked…” Joe muttered, having paid no attention to Bill and his over dramatic emotions, as the blond was struggling to fight back the urge to cry. “I was screaming for help, Joe. You didn’t help me.” Joe shrugged “You only had little ones–” “That’s no excuse!” Bill shouted. One by one, tears began to slip free from his eyes, before being roughly whipped away by a red sleeve. Bill’s long blond locks had freed themselves from the constriction of the elastic band, and now flowed freely down his shoulders and back, obstructing his face as his head bowed against his chest. A traumatised Bill slowly let go of Joe. He’d witnessed his friend’s death, he’d tried to save him and what had Joe done? Sat back and polished his finger nails? Probably, he didn’t look at all bothered to help a few minutes ago. It was like he’d changed… Lightening struck Bills brain as he grabbed Joe’s arm and roughly pulled up the bloodied sleeve, revealing a long deep gash. He recognised the canine trenches, which he’d seen a picture of in a mythical creature’s book that he’d read in the library at collage. A Werewolf had made the wound, and Bill had only just realised this too late – having mistaken the one outside to be a very angry dog. “It can’t be…there’s no way…they’re fiction.” Bill stuttered, refusing to believe. Joe glared back at him, looking severally miffed off. “Well nothing’s fiction anymore…not after what’s happened the past 30 years…” Joe said pulling his sleeve back down and walking towards the door but only jumped out of his skin as the now known Werewolf started to gnaw at the door again. The hole was even bigger now, it wouldn’t take too long before it was inside. “Well I guess that it is true then… you did get bitten. And now it’s outside, waiting for you.” Bill was turning hysterical again. “Why? Why do you let it take control of you? Are you even human anymore? Or has that thing changed you all together? Right to your black heart...” Bill was crying once again and backed up a few feet till he was almost against the cellar wall. He hung his head against his chest again. “Max could still be alive if it wasn’t for you… you were too selfish… you were too weak to help him. You’re a disgra–” Bill was cut short as Joe slapped him and pinned him to the wall he was nearly leant against, obviously fed up of the lecture he was receiving. “Shut up! Just shut up!! I did not ask for this! I did not ask to be turned! Can you not see that it pains me, also, to see Max fall? I may have little control, but that does not mean I cannot still feel. I’m still here Bill; just another self has taken a light, but strong hold… I’m–” Joe stopped himself from shouting further, upon hearing a loud creak. The wall they were against shook and the boys felt themselves falling with it, as it gave way. There had once been a mineshaft that ran adjacent to the cellar and beneath it, which collapse many years ago. Where the tracks once were, there was now a very large, very deep cavern. This took up a majority of the tunnel, which continued on into the darkness both ahead and behind. At that same the Werewolf broke through the door and ran for the boys. It jumped but jumped too far. As the lads fell they landed on a ledge around a meter or so from the braking point of the wall. But the Werewolf was not so lucky, and fell down into the dark depths to its uncertain doom. Death seems to be the only adventure, yet alone option, today. The Ledge led to a dark tunnel. Once the boys had got to the end of it, they looked around. It was almost like a dungeon with no obvious way out. They were trapped, how typical. Trapped in a dark hole with a lovely stench of rotting corpses to abuse the nostrils. It was certainly the perfect place to call your doom. Just at that moment the moons rays shone through a hole in the ceiling, lighting an area on the floor. Bill got up from the spot on the floor that he’d sat on and looked around using the little light that was given to him. He saw that it was the very hole that Max had been dragged down through, but where were the spiders? Looking around on the ground, Bill eventually found all that remained of their former friend. His flesh had been eaten right to the bone but even some of that didnt remain. His arm was on the other side of the room in a pool of blood, or was it a leg? It was hard to tell in such bad light. The rest of Max’s bones were together in a larger pool of blood, which was a deep, dark, red. It had obviously darkened since the mud off the floor had mixed into it making a delightful blood and mud cocktail. Max’s skull was set in an expression of pain, agony and sheer torture. Where his eyes had been once there were big, dark, empty sockets that seemed to just stare off into space. Bill stared a little longer; Joe was jumping up and down trying to reach the hole. The more he jumped the closer he got to it, before finally he got a good firm grip on the edge. Bill smiled at him with a look of success but the smile turned upside down to a frown when he saw the look on Joe’s face and something breathing down the back of his neck. Bill turned around slowly and walked backwards as he did. Gazing up at the creature before him he just realised what it was. A Gorgorath, where death follows and all are silent until it is broken from its screeching call. Screams can be heard from within the behemoth stomach of this creature; the screams of the thousands it has killed, tormented, mutilated, and showing their dire image, clasped onto the flesh of this death-defying demon. Red eyes penetrate the total blackness that shrouds the beastly figures entire body. It had most likely found its way to the surface after the mine collapsed. Bill had lost the sight of Joe and only when he fell backwards onto the floor, did he find him. Joe was looking down at him from the hole in the ceiling, the light gone from his eyes, wiggling his fingers and smiling cheekily. But not all confusing moments last long. Grabbing one of Bills legs, the Gorgorath pulled him out of the light and into its domain. Clutching onto anything in his path, Bill cried out for help. “Joe! Joe, help me! Dear god, don’t give in! You can fight it. You have to fight the evil within you. Please!!! Arrgggghhhh–” Bills last words were that of pain, and plea. Joe could hear the sounds of the Gorgorath ripping off pieces of Bills limbs, feasting on his flesh. As the Gorgorath ate, the sound of bones crushing, flesh and blood splattering over the interior of its concrete and rock prison, Joe headed out of the shack, and back into the woods, to gather his thoughts. He held his head in pain, as he eventually managed to take control. Bill was right; he was giving into the evil inside of him. It was consuming him with every second. Why? Why did he do it? It’s true he could have saved Max, and now Bill. But instead he left them to die one by one falling into darkness. It was his fault that he’d never see his friends again. During the walk back to Noth, Joe’s head was filled with torment as the evil within him spoke horrible things, told him of what he could do if he gave in, but that only made him more determined to fight it. When he reached the town’s outskirts, he only just realised something that would eat away at his conscience for many years to come... He’d betrayed them…
Dit verhaal beoordelen >>>