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He thought of Amber. The way her lightest touch
made his thickest skin tingle. The whole scene, his death scene, played out
in his mind. He imagined turning, standing face to face with the entire
Northern army camp, and seeing the murder and hate in their eyes. He imagined their rifles drawn, their cannons ready and their
fingers twitching. He could see individual soldiers, some with glasses, some
with sleep still in their eyes and some so young they look liked boys. He
imagined them all as they prepared to kill him. He remembered his parents
and how they always told him to always face things, to never turn your back
to anything or anyone. That thought made him sigh, now, because he would
have to turn around and face his death.
The hand began to squeeze harder on Enson’s
shoulder, causing him to push down from that angle. The pressure seemed
unreal, much stronger than a normal man’s hand. Enson removed his knife
from his belt and turned around, blade in hand, ready to strike at the man
behind him. He knew that he was dead, either way, but he figured that he
would die fighting. He turned around, ready to see a large man in front of
him, ready to see the army, entire, with their guns pointed at him. But,
what he saw, he could never have been ready for.
The hand that was gripping his shoulder, squeezing
it hard enough to bruise, was long with fingertips pointed like daggers. The
fingers were long, but the actual length was derived from the nails, which
were over two inches long, white and looked like blades at the end. The hand
itself was long and skinny, with thick, dark, black hair along the wrist
bone and on the fingers. Enson’s eyes surveyed the hand all the way to the
wrist, and then continued slowly to the arm then the entire man.
The man’s arm was long, and
the black shirt he was wearing was tight, showing tensed muscles all the way
to his shoulder. His shoulders were thick and muscular, leading to a thicker
and pulsating neck. The hand squeezed Enson’s shoulder again, the pain
flaring inside the bone, into the nerves. The man’s
neck was long and led to his face.
The man’s face was unlike any
Enson had ever seen. From a distance, he
may have appeared normal, but up close, he
was anything but. His face was elongated, especially at the jaw line, which
seemed to have the width of two jaws. The man was smiling, but Enson felt
the smile lacked any sincerity, and was more a smile of the man sensing
Enson’s terror. His face, pale and sickly, was almost too fearful to
detract from the mans eyes, which were blood red, but that seemed to be all
that Enson could stare into when he glanced upon the demon’s face.
The hand of the demon squeezed again, the pain was
unbearable for Enson by this point. The demon eyes looked directly at Enson,
controlling his movement with its cold stare. Enson felt his body being
lifted off the ground, and then he was flying through the air. He landed
hard on the soft grass underneath a tree. He sat up immediately, unaware of
the extent of his injuries. He looked to the sky for a moment, noticing that
the moon was full and bright. He then quickly looked towards to where the
demon was, before he through Enson through the sky. The demon was standing
there, his eyes shining brightly with their bloody look of evil.
The demon crouched slightly and then was flying
through the air with a mighty leap. It was then that Enson was first able to
guess at how far he had been thrown. He estimated it at thirty or forty
feet. The demon had thrown him easily, as if he was a small ball or
child’s toy. When the demon jumped, it appeared an easy and careless leap,
but he flew through the air with such quickness, landing almost on top of
Enson, that it was apparent that it could have leaped much further, if it
had desired to do so.
Enson stood face to face with the demon, smelling
it’s warm and pungent breath. The demon was breathing heavy, not from
exhaustion, but more form excitement. It was exciting for the demon to
torture Enson before he killed him. The demon reached out and seized Enson
by the throat, squeezing it intensely and lifting Enson off the ground.
Enson was 6’2, by no means a small man, but now that he was hoisted off
the ground, he was finally eye to eye with the demon.
Their noses were close enough to touch, and Enson
tried to pull back his face, thinking a demon as frightening as this may
take a bite out of his face, for fun. Enson looked deep into the demon’s
eyes and said, “ What are you?”
The demon laughed and opened its mouth, exposing a
sea of razor sharp, oversized, white teeth. All the teeth appeared to be
sharp and long, but the teeth to the right and left of the top center pair
were the longest by far.
“I’m am your nightmare come alive. I am a real
Devil.”
Enson began to shake, the blade, still clutched in
his right hand, almost fell to the ground, but Enson gripped it tighter. The
demon was waiting, for apparently no reason besides the sheer fun of seeing
Ensons terror, before he attacked.
The demon said, “If I drink of your blood, you
die. If you drink of my blood, you will live, forever. Which would you
rather?”
Enson repeated the statement to himself in his
head, trying to figure out what the demon meant by his question. The idea to
live was always the preferable one, the chance to see Amber again, hold her
in his arms, tell her he loved her, but he wondered what he would become if
he drank this demon’s blood.
As Enson thought of his choices, live or die, live
as a demon, or die as a man, he glanced up to the moon, admiring its beauty.
It was so full and so bright, that he actually smiled.
A gunshot ripped through the night air, striking
the demon in the neck, causing him to drop Enson to the ground. The demon,
stunned and slightly injured from the shot, fell on top of Enson. Its blood,
flowing in great clouts from the neck wound that was closing before
Enson’s eyes, flowed down the demon neck and into Ensons mouth. Before he
could move or close his mouth, Enson felt the blood on his tongue, flowing
down his mouth. He had drunk from the demon blood!
The demon quickly rose, smiled at Enson, and
jumped to attack the person or persons that fired the shot. Enson didn’t
think to look in the direction of the gunshot, instead opting to stand and
run as fast as he could. As he ran, he heard more gunshots and the sickening
sound of tearing flesh and total chaos. The commotion from the shot had
awoken the camp, and sent soldiers scrambling towards the commotion.
Enson ran as fast as he could, almost falling and
stumbling profusely as he galloped in large strides, away from the demon,
the soldiers and the threats. He had no idea how long he had been running
for when he finally stopped, but when he did stop, he was nowhere near
either camp, instead finding himself by a lake, where he collapsed from
exhaustion.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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