Chapter Eight
The Dead Attack Fast
The middle aged drunk asked calmly, “Give me some money,” I was a stranger, walking along the creek, the bum feeling he could persuade me of some loose change, trying to anyhow, he also wanted to talk, tell me what he had seen:
“Cat! That thing was a cat, in a cat’s body, red; wild eyed, a voice like pipes, swift”… (He was falling about, perhaps hit by the needle like tail of the Manticore, it had leaped on him I figured—like it had leaped on me and my friends in Lima, it had these long pine like needles on its tail—poisoned, and it shot out from its tail in all directions, paralysing anyone in its way, and here was this bum, now spitting out goo from his mouth, like a horse slobbering over some grass and substance dripping out along its sides—he looked like he was dying, I saw some of the Mantic ore’s needles in him.
“Where,” I asked, “w here did you see him?” he was on the ground, exhibiting much fear, and still spitting up and out of his mouth that same slime, that fat and creamy like substance, perhaps his insides. He kept saying ‘…the cat,’ holding his head; he started laughing at the whole thing, pointed to the hills on the left side of the creek. I started to hum that magical chant for some odd reason, knowing the Manticore was about. I left him where he lay, and headed further up the creek.
The night came upon the valley fast, twilight seeped over the hills, an uncanny feeling come over me, as if the world of dead souls were upon me, the resurrected ones from the tombs where the second souls lived, and seemed to have a second life, or could have with the right enchantments. Thus, I felt the presence of the Manticore, why or how I don’t know. I have to admit I was enchanted with the idea of the magic that surround this phenomenon, possessive of it almost, and unc onsciously had hoped to find its secrets, and consciously prayer to see the Manticore once more.
This shouldering tribulation put me in a vulnerable circumstance: if I did see her, it means my death, or could; if not, I’d wish I’d have tried harder to see her, somewhere along life’s line. For sure, the devil himself was on her shoulder, and would show no mercy; but she was only a part of a trinity of souls, one disconnected from the others. I knew she had heard Enrique’s summons; evil has wings, and can attack fast, so I’ve learned. She had two faces, one evil, one beautiful, I had noticed that in the mirror; in a dream, I could even feel that: what face would she put on this evening, if indeed she appeared: so I wondered.
Evil had revealed itself in this peaceful valley, the very place I called my second home. And like lighting striking a tree and it falling on top of you, I collapsed flat on my back, the ground shook around me, i t sounded like an earthquake to my ears: like trumpets, I was entombed with a body over me blue eyes, a deep red body, she had changed, the ill omen had found her feast, me, as her three rows of teeth grinded in my face; the man-eater crouched over me to the point of almost sucking the life out of me: ugly as a dried up heart, her beauty had transferred to some kind of evil looking beast, with bat wings attached to her.
See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Chapter Story
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