Purity and Paul stood holding each other as if standing at a bus stop in a pouring rain as the last bus rolled away into the darkness. What they were watching, though, was the murderer preparing for battle.
His undergarment was made from a silver material that, according to the murderer, protects the wearer from an ectoplasmic attack that might penetrate the outer armor. He spoke with great pride.
" Upon our arrival," he said, "this suit was presented to the first Over Lord."
He spoke with enough volume to be sure that Purity and Paul caught every word.
The beings of a questionable origin began to approach him from every angle, each bearing a portion of his outer armor.
First was the cuirass, the large piece that surrounds his chest and abdomen. Its bronze shine was dulled and scars were everywhere, but the ornate scene was still quite visible. It showed a warrior raising his sword to challenge a larger foe.
The piece opened was too big by a couple of sizes, with a large section covering the front and two smaller pieces for the back. The back pieces were matched and hung loosely in place off of the front section, suspended by half-inch steel rings 2 inches apart. There seemed to be no way to fasten it, but then the air filled with the clinking and snapping of hundreds of clasps that grew from the edge of each section. The three pieces pulled together. The cuirass, now one part, conformed itself to the body of the murderer as if it were made of taffy. Too big a minute ago, the armor now fit him as if custom made.
The silver undergarment seemed to be electrified as multicolored sparkles illuminated themselves in hues that had a profound calming effect on Purity and Paul, lighting and dimming, moving around to each area of the clothe, visible even through the thick bronze and steel armor.
" This Cuirass," the murderer explained, " was made specifically for the challenger. Look at it. See the smaller of the two? That is the up-and-coming leader, the one whose destiny it is to be in control of the field, what you might consider to be a ranch, or farm."
Purity and Paul were completely confused. Up to now they both had thought the power struggle to be about the amulet and its abilities. The murderer knew their thoughts as they both looked around at their prison.
He stood silent as the beings placed the Greaves around his lower legs, cylindrical except for the upper portion, which flared to accept his strong calves. Each was adorned with scenes of battle, the smaller overpowering the larger, each as brilliantly dull as the cuirass.
The sparkles grew in number, size, and intensity, illuminating not only the greaves but the armor plated shoes that grew from them and completely encased his feet.
He then stepped over to the pair and addressed them in a manner consistent with an executioner giving a last request to the condemned.
" Would you like to know who we are, why we are here? Yes? I will grant this for you, although, all you deserve is death, especially after forcing me to punish your son when he helped you escape the amulet to bring Paul here."
" Had you stayed away from him you would have lived a normal life, Purity. But you didn't. You stepped in and forced me to eventually take your son. When my victory is complete he will remain at my side, while you and Paul will be sent to forever remain in limbo- neither living or dead- in the bowels of the motherland."
" Our people are from another dimension, an alternate earth, where our families subsist on the meager offerings there."
" A thousand years ago our leaders discovered a portal to your world. Our citizens were starving and had began to feed upon each other. Our very existence was doomed. The animals of our world were virtually gone. But even feeding off the flesh of our brothers provided only a temporary reprieve from the inevitable, lingering, painful death."
The walls of the amulet began to play images of beings, as large as the trees, with oozing skin and sharpened claws for hands, striking down their own kind and devouring their flesh as others ran over, drawn by the screaming of their fallen comrade, the sound of his bones being separated from each other, and the smell of the pooling plasmic sauce.
The couple sank to the ground, their knees no longer able to support them.
He continued.
" But a new world had opened itself up to us. A tunnel linking our dimensions had been torn into being by spirits searching, souls made to wander the earth because of a death most unnatural. A death," he emphasized,"that no human should have ever suffered. A death in which the victims body remains alive, but the soul is murdered."
The images above were now of wandering humans, devoid of an existence other than physical. Unseen by them were the underworlds hunters, toting huge sacks of victims, faint copies of the originals that clawed at the cloth that held them in and screamed with voices that could not be heard.
Into the tunnel the hunters went, the portal closing behind them, returning to their own version of earth, carrying food to the waiting masses.
Purity and Paul wept.
" So you see, your fate could have been worse."
Then a being came up to him, bearing the helmet.
It was a dull bronze color but much more ornate than the rest of his armor. There were no carvings of warriors, but symbols that gave an air of sophistication, of victory.
When it was placed on his head, the chin guard split to receive him, then, closing by itself, joined with its mate as if never apart.
The colorful display exhibited by the undergarment intensified. Sleeves grew out from the cuirass and completely encased his arms and hands, forming gloves, and jointed for maximum ease of movement.
Then the entire suit changed color as any semblance of a collection of pieces disappeared, becoming one suit that looked as if it were his natural skin- if his natural skin was a slimy, oozing, green. His fingers stretched, as did his arms, reaching the level of his knees while his fingers developed sharp, filthy nails.
His helmeted head now resembled that of a mutant, ninja frog, tough and battle-ready.
Purity felt that she would not be able to bear it as she watched him grow in size, reaching a height of twenty feet.
He knelt down and grasped Purity and Paul as if they were toys, both in his right hand.
In a voice that rattled the walls, he said, " lets go."
Ken McCreless is just a guy who loves to write, and was born to do so. He is a freelance writer with several projects ongoing, including books and magazines. A huge fan of both irony and history, Ken is neck deep in the genre of Horror Fiction, but appreciates most forms of literature.
Look for his breakout book, expected in early 2010, from Espy Publishing.
Your imagination is amazing. I am looking forward to the next part. I think I mentioned before, when this is all done, I am going to print them out and sit and enjoy a nice straight-through read! Blessings to you! Sis
Nice description and detail. Even though this is the first installment I've read it looks good. Either you've read a few books on writing fiction or taken some classes. It shows. Where'd you come up with the idea / inspiration. Keep up the good work. Got plans for publishing? Published anything previously? Keep me informed. Me likie ;=)
» left by Ken McCreless from Event Horizon (179 days 6 hours ago.)
Thank you, Jeff.
I have not taken any writing classes but I did read Stephen Kings "On Writing." As far as where the idea/inspiration came from- beats me. Ideas just pop into my mind and I run with them.
I would love to publish some stuff, have yet to sell a story. I'll keep hammering away, though.
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