Terror Awakens

Sci fi/Fantasy image by

Danielle Mammano

A long dead battle lay silent in the field that hosted the brutal clash. There was an overwhelming stench of the dead littered about, and the ever-staring eyes gazed towards the sky. Flies landed on them, cleaning themselves, laying eggs and buzzing off. The ground was covered in a low fog, and when the clouds opened it became transparent, revealing a fallen steed. Its eyes were also gazing upwards, an expression of fear locked on its face. One would feel great sadness for the poor creature; having not even armor of flimsy steel sheets to protect it, and neither leather nor cloth adorned its arrow-riddled face. It owned a pair of pain stricken eyes, glazed over by the many hours they had been directed towards the sun to which it could no longer see, which at that moment blinked. The horse raised up on its mangled form, staring on blindly, its eyes as dead as he was. It yawned, but its jaws stretched open farther than they ever should have been able to, making predatory teeth clearly visible. Spines ripped through the flesh on its back, slicing off enough of the bindings that kept the saddle on. It slid off, dragging skin along with it, and it threw its head until the reins and bit flew a few yards. Not a whinny or a nicker escaped the creature’s throat; only a blood curdling scream that was filled with pain and sadness as he stared, without seeing, at his fallen master, and in turn regretting his own untimely death. Locks of hair fell from his mane, the rotting flesh loosening its grip on the strands. The flies avoided the living carcass in a fear they had never instinctively felt before, moving quickly to other bodies. The horse threw his head once more in an attempt to rid himself of the arrows. His whole body quivered, and a few that were in his flank did in fact dislodge, but they weren’t the ones he desired. He snorted, phantom nostrils flaring as he had no flesh upon his face. A nose bone stuck out from the skin that still clung to the skull, and you could see his breath escape from the eerie nose in the cold morning air. His white, pupil less eyes swiveled madly in their sockets as he desperately tried to see the scenery around him, though he could sense it. Finally a blurry vision became clear as the glaze wore off, and he made a low shriek in satisfaction. He walked, bony tail swishing lazily back and forth. He was limping; an arrow was lodged in one of his haunches, and it pained him to put weight on it. Scanning the many bodies that had been strewn across the meadow for days, he was struck with a sudden hunger for the flesh of humans. Not this flesh, mind you – stiff and fly-ridden, it was strictly unappetizing to him. Snorting in disapproval he lurched forward, hungrily looking for anything living, besides the flies. As his cracked hooves carried him farther, and he stopped to sniff the air a few times, then continued walking. Suddenly his eyes rolled towards a dark figure at the edge of the forest, and he started towards it, hunger driving his only instinct known to him; kill. The cloaked form stood motionless as the nightmarish beast raced towards him, ignoring the pain in his leg and shrieking in all his horrifying glory. He merely raised his hand and commanded, “Stop!” The horse was startled, and skidded to a halt as he was told. He growled, drool slipping from his teeth that longed to bury themselves deep into the warm flesh of the living. He could sense an evil around the cloaked one, and growled angrily, advancing once again. “I said, stop, beast!” He commanded again. “I have brought you back to life to perform many a task for me. Now, serve your new master!” He didn’t even have enough time to tell his creation what he wanted it to do; the horse, angered that this Necromancer disturbed his eternal slumber, tensed up in fury and stared right into his eyes, screaming a gurgling roar as he reared up, hooves aimed at the mans head. He crashed down to earth, slamming his forelegs into the Necromancer’s face. A sickening crack of skull and a pop-squish of the contents of his head echoed loudly on the silent graveyard. The horse leaned down, lapping up the fresh blood from his hooves and the ground, slowly tearing at his victim’s arm until it was severed from his body. He snapped it up, and shrieked once more in triumph. He had wrought his revenge. --Mechanical pencil, tinted in photoshop.--

Published More than a year ago

Category Horror

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