Friday, January 22, 2016

The Decapitator - Chapter 1 part 3

Part 3

The deluge of gray highlighted the sky above, the floor below shit brown and trampled.  Mud and twigs intertwined in a dance above the dirt; the gentle breeze caressing the rotting waltz, flavoring the wind as it crosses the dead plains.  There is the metallic twang of blood in the air, the ghost of a million deaths.

In the distance mad fires and funeral pyres rage out of control.  Stacks of dead body kindle the inferno, monoliths of black plume.  A city of a million graves stretches its carcass across the bitter landscape.  Gravestones jut from the ground like broken teeth.  White washed stone above, white bones picked clean by vermin below.

Acid rain comes as relief; clouds spoiled by radiation overflow with poisonous intent; spilling its filth on the damned below.  All are doomed.  All are lost.  Only tribes of man exist now to fill their wanton need of sustenance and sweet reprieve.  They hang their heads low, closer now to the ground and soil and dirt of their sins.  Their shoulders carry great invisible baskets that slow down each step; every stride is deliberate, carefully calculated against the hinted dangers of their surroundings.