Monster Week Prompt 3

You knew it was coming.  Enjoy!

Twilight hung over the raw battle field, covering the dead bodies in a shroud of darkness as the sun set. A tick haze rolled across the shadowy field, covering the fallen and setting fire to what was left of the trampled grass adding smoke to the ethereal haze. A strange howl rose up, making the ground shudder and the smoke and haze swirl as if it were boiling.

High above the battle ground a lane figure stood watching as the light waned and a new menace entered the field. Bright yellow eyes missed nothing as she gazed at the unfolding scene below. A hot wind flew up, tossing her cloak behind her in billowing waves .

She was not pleased with what she saw below. Nor was she pleased with what was coming out of the deepest depths of Hell. This was just the beginning of a war she tried to prevent between the gods. The price of blood for this battle was already paid and now, those souls would not be able to see the rest they deserved.

“What do you see, mother?” A soft male voice came from behind her as a large hand reached for her shoulder. He stood tall and burly, dressed in armor and carrying a helmet beneath one arm. Only his feet were bare, letting him feel the earth beneath his toes and let his claws dig in deep while he fought.

Another howl broke the silence, shuddering the ground once again as mother and son observed. Looking up at him, she smiled, whiskers twitching at the acrid scent of metal and leather. That smile faded quickly with her reply. “I see a large menace coming to us, my son. We will have to fight again.”

“The men are tired. I don't think they could go another step right now.” His voice sounded concerned for the men under his command.

“I know, Yaneh, I know, but we are left with no choice.” She heaved a heavy sigh and turned to walk back to the encampment. “I have healed all that can. The rest… will have to make do with a potion. Prepare them, son.”

Her words were just as good as any command from a king or emperor to him. Yaneh nodded then followed his mother back to where his men set up their camp. Though his mother was smaller than her, she had about her a strength he could never describe and learned quickly never to question her motives.

He jogged ahead and called out the orders to have all the men assemble before night was fully upon them. It wasn't much time, but he knew they needed to be ready. As soon as his orders were passed along through the ranks, he left to help his mother prepare her potion.

“The men are gathering.” He stated as he came to a stop by her fire pit. “Do you want me to help you?” He grinned slightly at her and tilted his head.

Blue eyes met yellow briefly before the smaller feline nodded. “If you want. You know what to do as much as I.” From a pouch hanging from her belt, she dumped out several musty smelling bags. Together, she and her son picked through them and poured the contents into boiling pot of water over the fire.

The flames danced high, changing colors with each new addition to the pot. As the last ingredient was added, a fox came running up, panting hard from his exhaustion. “Lady Sab'Eth! Lady Sab'Eth! We need you. The enemy is coming up the cliff toward us.” He no sooner got the last words out and he fell into a heap, dead with an arrow through his back.

“Quickly son! Drink the potion then get it to our men as fast as you can.” She flung her arm back to whisk her cloak away from her body then glared into the night. Behind her, she heard the heavy thud of her son's feet hit the ground as he ran back to take care of his contingents.

From out of the darkness, two sets of reflected the fire light. As they moved closer, the faint sound of chains clinked and the vague outline of the huge apes appeared in the flickering light.

A whoosh of wind rushed through, tugging at her cloak s Sab'Eth stood there, glaring at the intruder with her hands down at her sides and the tip of her tail flicking slowly with her contained anger. “So,” she growled, “you decided to surrender? Good. We don't need any more bloodshed on this land.” She sounded as bold as she felt and knew the demon wasn't there to end the war but to end her.

A loud, booming, laughed rumbled through the earth toward her before the baleful glare of a demon entered the ring of light cast by her fire. “What ever gave you that idea? You know as well as I that I'm here for you.” He laughed again.

The giant apes rattled their chains and strained against them to get to her. Sab'Eth smirked then barked a laugh of her own. “You can't have me, Grax. You don't have the balls to try and take me.” She flexed her fingers, showing off the claws she kept sharp and hidden.

Grax smirked then released the chains. “Get her,” he commanded the giant apes.

The beasts howled as they leaped at her, digging hand-like paws into the ground and throwing up dirt with each step. Their headlong rush to the smaller feline lady skidded to a stop when their bodies felt nothing except for the slash of searing pain along their hind legs.
They turned quickly and rushed her again only to receive the same treatment.

She wasn't aware of the attack on the camp, only the demon at her own and the pets which were coming after her. Round and round she lead them, slashing at exposed flanks and legs. Many times she tried for the head and missed. They could see her coming.

As she wiped her forehead, she smirked. “Looks like you finally found a pet worthy of taking me on, Grax. Let's see If they can handle another demon.”

The spell she recited jerked her body as the demon's laughed at her attempt. He watched as the apes continued to attack, barely breaking through the spell's field to touch her contorting body. The feline humanoid body reshaped through flashes of brilliant light, turning her from a morph to a panther-like demon with pupiless glowing eyes and a dark aura surrounding her body. Knotted muscles twitched beneath a short pelt of ebony fur as she roared her anger at the attacking apes.

Almost as large as the demonic apes, Sab'Eth rushed at them and slashed with claws sharp enough to slice through metal as if it were butter. She gave as good as she got in the fight with the monstrous apes. She could smell their determination to kill her as commanded. They were her equal in strength, but she had a slight edge; she still had her intellect and could out think both beasts with ease.

Grax kept watch, his eyes narrowing when the cat-woman changed shape. He snarled with how easy she could avoid the worst of the apes' strikes. But they were two against one. He had the advantage. Just to make sure, he tossed in a spell of his own, adding to the speed and strength of his minions. Then, just to add to his own amusement, tossed fireballs into the fray.

She was without backup and now, the advantage shifted over to the demon's side. Dodging fireballs and trying to avoid being tackled by the apes, she twitched and turned, letting her own instincts guide her movements while she considered her targets.

For what seemed like hours, she battled the apes. Her energy was beginning to ebb and her three opponents were limitless. She was starting to show the effects of being out numbered, but she kept fighting on, getting slower and slower, but her strikes more devastating. She'd sooner die than lose a fight to these beasts and Grax.

Over the howls of the apes, a loud roar echoed, startling the demon enough his throw was off, hitting his own minion rather than the panther. The chance gave her an opening. While the ape burned, she went for the throat, swiping with her paw to main it and get out of the way of the acid coursing through its veins.

Again, a roar startled the apes, giving her another opportunity to strike. She was getting too tired to fight, but she took every chance she could. Rest would come later.

“Mother!” The shout sounded more like another roar and the acrid scent of transformation reached her nose in time for her to see the tendrils of dark aether wrap around her son. When he emerged, he looked much like her only larger, stronger, and better protected by the very spirit he held within him. As he leapt into the fray, he roared to her, “Run! I have this.”

Sab'Eth shook her head then dropped to the ground to let him tackle the apes before they could crush her. “No! Tale care of them. I'll get Grax, their leader.”

No sooner said than an army of the demon apes arrived, howling their hunger. Some were dragging their victims. Others were licking their lips and drooling at the prospect of more than just dinner.

Just as the demons arrived, so did the army her son led. They shouted and banged their weapons against their shields then charged. A clash of metal and stone like flesh rang through the mountains as the two armies merged into one battle under the pale moon light.

Over it all, the maddening howl of the beastly apes shook the ground and the roars of the clans answered them back. Only the rising sun, hours from that point, would tell who the victor would be.

Monster Week Writing Prompt 2

Today's prompt features a djinn.  The picture, I swear, comes out of a AD&D monster manual.  That is how familiar it looks to me, but it serves as a very good prompt.  This one isn't as long as the others.  Maybe a page or so in length, so you don't have to skim through as much.  Oh, and before I forget, it is a silly ending.  It wasn't intended to be scary at all.

Arms crossed, the green genie frowned at the quivering man before him. 10,000 years and he gets the same reaction every time. They all get scared of the big, muscle-bound, man made of smoke without bothering to introduce themselves or give him an excuse to scare them. It was all the same and he could guess what the next thing would be, a “request” for wishes.

“Oh great and powerful genie, I have searched far and wide...” The man's voice faded from his mind as the djinn looked down on him.

Genie. He was not a genie. No one could get it right. Genies are weak compared the djinn. All the magical demigods considered them fledglings of the magical world and the djinn thought no less. Seriously, he could be doing something else besides listening to the same old litany for the millionth time in as many years. It wasn't the life he wanted, but he was stuck with it.

Realizing he needed to give a reply to his “master” he looked down at the man, lifted a brow ever so slowly, then moved in close enough to touch his nose to man's. His intense stare made the man cower and back away from him before the djinn decided to straighten up and return to scowling at this pitiful insect of a master.

“Out with your demands, human.” His voice boomed and thunder rolled to emphasize his displeasure. Just then, as the silence filled the area only to be broken by the squeak of a very frightened human, he got an idea.

“I... I... I wish to be rich.” The man's voice quivered uncontrollably. “Yeah, I wanna be rich. And famous!” He raised his hand to point out the addition to the first wish.

“That's two wishes, human,” he snarled through his growing smile. The evil just glimmered in his eyes. “Make this last one count.”

The human blinked up at the djinn before protesting. “N-no, that's one wish. Just one. I get two more.”

Arching a brow high, he leaned in close to the human and smelled something foul. He must have scared this human into filling his shorts. Lovely. “There are no exceptions, /human/,” he said, growling under his breath at him. “Rich and famous are two different requests. Should have rephrased that.”

“But! But!” The stammered before relenting with a heavy sigh.

“What is your last request.” He just knew what the last wish would be and he was going to give it a different interpretation.

Puffing out his chest, the human grinned, thinking he'd have this genie right where he wanted him. “I want to be what every woman needs, genie.”

A snap of his fingers and the djinn made the wishes come true, but the first two, he canceled. They were no longer needed now that the human was laying on the ground as a long, thin pad.

Monster Week Writing Prompt 1

Elements of Genre Writing decided this is monster week.  Okay, I can work with this.  When it comes to monsters, I’m not the best, but someone may give some good critique on how tom improve it.  So, without further ado, this week’s flash fiction response to day 1 prompt.

“Don’t got into the forest.” The order was clear, the danger unknown, but it was felt in the words and seen in the expression of the sergeant issuing the order. “Until we further notice, no one is to go into the forest. Guard the gates until Melencamp returns.”

The sergeant turned on his heel and left the group of guardsmen waiting for their leader to dismiss them. Among the mangy crowd of men a murmur started as what caused the order to come down so quickly after the disappearance of a few farmers on their way to the next town. A bark as sharp as the squinted eyes of the head guard brought the men back, straightening them up in a rough caricature of a trained contingent.

“You heard the sergeant, no one is to go into the forest until the wizard arrives. That means citizens, too.” As short as what the man looked, no one dared to snicker as his display of strength. Not one of them wanted to have the dwarf bringing them down in front of their peers for the man was fast and very strong and they could see the souvenirs of fights in the past on his armor and helmet. Another barked command the guards went to their assigned positions along the high rocky wall.

No one in and no one out until further notice. That worked well for the guards and the other citizens of the mountain town, but for Gherig, those orders didn’t include him. He had a charmed existence and considered himself the best thief in the realm able to escape any danger.

Slinking through the shadows toward the sluice gate where the river filled the moat, he crept silently. No one noticed him there except for the dogs that roamed the walls in search of scraps. Their barking came moments too late and didn’t bring anyone to investigate. Why would anyone bother with stray dogs fighting over a scrap of meat.

That is what Gherig counted on. No one knew he left. All he had to do was get across the open land between the walls and the forest. Until the sun went down, he’d have to wait. The late day sun gave too much light. As soon as night fell, he’d be on his way to see what was keeping the guards in this night.

Being patient wasn’t a strong point with him. Try as he might, he found himself startled into wakefulness. The sky was dark with ominous clouds blocking the moon and stars from view. Even though it was summer, a cold wind swept from the forest toward town sending shivers down his spine. A long and lonely howl echoed from the nearby valley adding to the general feel of unease the night had brought with it.

With a shrug, the thief ran across the bared land to the forest, keeping away from the road itself lest he seen by the guards on their rounds. Out of breath, he looked back at the stone walls and saw the torches move but no one coming after him. He made it across successfully.

“Good.” The single word was spoken aloud and it felt out of place among the shadow draped trees. He could barely see a few feet ahead of him. Something felt odd about the old wood. Something not natural and the feeling tickled the back of his mind as a warning of things to come.

Not one to give in to his own instincts, he continued deeper in until he felt sure his own torch wouldn’t get any attention from across the field. As he set about priming his torch and looked for his flint, he got the feeling that he was being watched.

The feeling grew and grew, building while he worked and made him nervous. Trying to ignore the sensation, he kept working on making some light. When at last the flames burst into being and lapped at the pitch coated wood greedily, the light it gave seemed feeble as if scared of the forest itself.

Then, on the night breeze, he heard his name whispered. Over and over, he heard his name whispered but nobody was there. It was just him and the trees and the trees don’t talk.

He crept along the game trail, looking all around to find the source of the voice. The further into the forest went, the stronger the feeling he was being watched. The trees pressed close, grabbing at his clothes as if to pluck them away. Roots lifted to trap his feet and make him stumble.

No where was there the buzz of a bug or the hoot of an owl. Nothing, nothing at all moved except for him and the night wind through the tree limbs.

The trail he followed twisted and turned, ridding him of any hope of being able to find his way back to the field by the city gates. When he wasn’t stumbling over invisible roots, he was brushing away tendrils of moss hanging from the limbs while they grabbed at him.

Without warning, he fell with a thump on the hard earth. The torch fell from his hand and sputtered out, leaving him in darkness again. As his eye adjusted to the dark, the moon found a sliver between the clouds to shed pale light down into the thicket he had fallen into. Brambles twisted into strange shapes with long thorns prepared to strike any who dared step too close. From amid the thorny briars, the whispered voice emanated; daring him to come closer.

A shadowy figure moved within the branches; small child-like, in size but with waves of death and fear flowing around it like a cloud. It moved closer with the brambles giving way before it. The face remained enshrouded with shadow, but the slight body became defined and moved stiffly though with purpose toward his grounded body.

His mind screamed at him to get up and leave. Danger was there in front of him, but he ignored those thoughts. There could be no danger from a child of any kind. He was bigger and stronger than this kid.

Or so he thought.

Behind the child, other shadow cloaked beings appeared, each moving slow and stiff, reaching out with waves of death toward him. Gherig’s eyes went wide as they appeared before him. His strength left him, leaving him shuddering before the child as he lay on the ground watching it and the other.

The clouds began to part, offering more of the moon’s light to the clearing, showing him the white dress of a merchant’s daughter he knew fluttering around he legs. He knew her to be dead, he had done that deed. Others behind her entered the light, their faces blank, eyes nothing more than dark holes where evil lay in wait beside his death.

Her face loomed closer. She whispered his name as a vile grin parted his lips to expose crooked teeth. Her eyes were like the others, holes that held evil desires to drink his soul for the evil he had done.

Gherig’s eye widened, showing the whites as he tried to back away from the girl. She was coming for him. All he could feel was a fear like no other grow when he saw her skeletal hand lift to reach for his throat.

All was quiet at the castle. The cold wind had calmed, leaving the guards to their duty of patrolling the wall. When the moon stated to beak through the clouds, the old wizard Melencamp appeared with grave news. He and the others paused in the market square when a human scream broke through the silence of the night. Moments after, the old clock struck the midnight hour. Few looked up at the sound of the scream. Only the old wizard paused before he was ushered to the lord’s manor to go over his findings.