It’s a funny story (no pun intended), but I started writing these whenever I had writer’s block. Turns out they are really fun to write. Enjoy reading them as much as did writing them. Happy reading!
Category: Stories
Dawn on the Dune
Azazel raced across the desert, creating a storm of sound and sand as he crouched low on his horse. Every so often, he would glance back, squinting against the dry cloud. He was too old for this – too old to do this again, but they were getting stronger. They were coming. He could feel it. He shivered unconsciously as he felt the wet slither further down his bones. The Blue Giants of the sea were gaining in power and followers by the day. They were coming. And this time, the Sand Knights were unprepared. Alone, all would be lost, the sea drowning out the dunes of the South. He sighed in resignation. Yes, there would be one last battle to fight before he could disappear from the world – once and for all.
The Calm Before the Storm
You can do this.
Raphael nodded to himself, willing himself to believe the voice only he heard. He could do this. They depended on him. He could –
Suddenly, it came.
Pure, gut-wrenching pain seared his mind, dominating all thought and sensation. That was all he could feel – all he could focus on as it tore away at the fraying seams that held his sanity. Collapsing onto the edge of the cliff, he hunched over, clawing at the bed of rocks beneath him. He hissed as the pain increased tenfold, his nails digging deeper into the gravel. He was barely aware of the wounds that had opened, of the grit embedding itself into his hands, of the blood pooling at his fingertips.
Clear your mind. Don’t fight us.
He opened his mouth to release a snort of disbelief, but instead, a guttural roar ripped through his throat, the muscles in his neck straining under the tension.
‘I never asked for this!’ His snarl broke through the storm, calling out to the voice that haunted him, heart and soul. ‘I never wanted this! Why me?’
It is in your blood. It can only be you. Only you can help them.
Before he could throw back a retort, another onslaught of pain ploughed further into his head, his agonised, pleading screams lost in the biting wind of the storm.
Then suddenly, it fell silent. Deathly silent. For the first time in months, his mind was his own, the voice now a part of him.
Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes flickering, the black in his pupils bleeding into his emerald irises. Sitting back, his glanced over his arms and hands in undisguised awe. For a few seconds as he watched, inky tendrils curled beneath his skin, pulsing with a life of their own, before fading. But he knew they were still there. Running a finger over his forearm, it suddenly displayed the network of vessels that lay lurking beneath his skin, humming with unadulterated energy. Keeping his finger pressed to his arm, he watched in fascination as the streams of blood that ran from his fingers ceased, fading into scars and then disappeared altogether as if they had never existed. Dropping his hand, he raised his eyes, drinking in the sight that greeted him. Across the horizon, the once overwrought skies were clearing, sunlight seeping through the gaps in the quickly dissolving clouds. Below, the raging foam horses had quietened as though lulled to sleep, the tranquil waves now caressing the cliff side. The birds were singing once again, filling the stiff air with their serenading songs.
It was over; the calm after the storm had arrived.
Bouncing to his feet with a newly gained agility, he strode with dark intent. He saw it now – what they had been telling him. He saw the past – the blood and violence that tarnished the deceptively attractive town. He could see the evil for what it was now, hiding as it was, a serpent coiled tightly around it.
The calm after the storm was here – but it wasn’t there to stay.
Thy Kingdom Come
It was a quiet day in the Capitol – the quietest it had seen in days. An uneasy stillness filled the air, as the streets remained deserted. Death – dark, terrible death fouled the Earth, the colour of evil leaving its stain. The air was strife with the stink of ozone, overlaid only by the rotting stench of flesh – human flesh. Crows circled above like thick swarms of darkness, fixed on their next meal. A gong sounded, sending its vibrations far and wide, echoing and reverberating. It was a signal; slowly, a door creaked ajar, a tiny face peeking out into the open. In quick succession, another opened, followed by another and soon, the shanty streets released their small occupants. The children all scrambled out of their crudely-constructed huts, weary of their narrow time constraints as they foraged for food. The older amongst them helped the younger when they slipped and stumbled out of fatigue and gnawing hunger. But they had long since ceased covering their eyes to protect their innocence against the pockmarked corpses that littered the ground. For it had been months since they were young in all but age; worldly weariness gleamed in all their eyes. Suddenly, and all too soon, the warning gong rang in the air again. Within seconds, all of them were back inside, doors all slammed shut.
It was quiet in the Capitol – the quietest it had seen in days. It was quiet, but how long it would remain was another question.
Sins of the Past
Sin blankly eyed the pathetic cowering man on the floor as he begged for his life. Her voice sliced through his pitiful pleading, echoing in recurring ripples around them.
‘Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.’
Her tone was biting, like the touch of winter’s breath on his skin. Even as she watched, the drop in temperature tinged the man’s lips a mottled indigo as his breathing slowed to a staccato she savoured in. She looked like the ice queen she was nicknamed, but there was no denying that what she lacked in emotion, was more than made up for in the chilling manifestation of her pure, pulsating rage that at this moment, teased his very survival. Impatient with his silence, she waved a hand that once again triggered his shrill tortured screams. As the hammer came down on his hand with a wet thud, crushing every bone to a pulp, she winced as he reached a new height in soprano, and with another flick of her hand, he fell silent. Her eyes washed over him indifferently as he choked on an invisible force that threatened to suffocate him, yet before he succumbed to darkness, she released him, letting him grab a short gasp before starting again.
‘Please… Sin, st-stop.’
Instantly, she stopped, leaning down towards him. He created a pitiful picture, curled up in a ball as though the foetal position would protect him from her fury. Her voice was just above a whisper, deceptively soft as she repeated herself.
‘Why? Tell me why.’
Gently, she brushed back his hair, almost affectionately like a loving mother and her child, yet instead of providing comfort, he flinched at her touch, the frostbite left in her wake, betraying her dark intentions.
He whimpered, knowing that he deserved what was coming. Closing his eyes, he recalled the carnage from seven years ago, remembering how he had enjoyed the thrill at the time, revelling in the agonised screams of her family as he hacked and mauled and tore them apart. And now, before him stood the child they were supposed to destroy, the child whose power was a force to be reckoned with. The child that was too powerful to live. And now, she who lived, was here for him.
For revenge.
And there was nothing he could do to stop her.
Hafsa Khalil 