Thursday, October 19, 2006

My occult story...

Everybody should try at least one attempt at writing something like this. Plus, it forces you to actually try and learn Latin, which is why I bought a Latin dictionary. Enjoy...

The Shift
Macon Dean’s punch connected with the rib cage of the demon. It howled in pain and frustration. The skin that Macon had assaulted burned and crackled. For several minutes it had tried to reach out and touch Macon but its hands kept getting burned from Macon’s body. Macon moved in within inches of the demon and placed his open palm on the creature’s ear. The rock-like texture began to sizzle, then melt.
“What’s the matter, don’t like my body art?” said Macon. He put his hand out in front of the demon. His entire hand was covered in Latin verses, Christian prayers and archaic symbols.
The demon roared and opened its maw wider, revealing a second set of jaws smaller than the first, but still as powerful and serrated. Spittle with bubbles of foam spewed onto the floor inches from Macon’s boots. It lunged at Macon and the beast’s mouth clamped down on his outstretched hand. Blood spurted from the creature’s mouth and Macon stood still. The demon released its hold on the man’s arm. Steam and blood spewed from the demon’s mouth as Macon opened the palm of his clenched and now wet hand. Not a scratch or puncture wound was visible.
“Tergum ut abyssus,” Macon said. A wall of flame enveloped the demon and burnt it to ashes.
There was a deep droning sound, like that of a giant magnet clunking to life and the room was covered in darkness. Macon reached into his jacket pocket and lifted a small phial filled with holy water.
“Fiat lux,” Macon said. His words echoed throughout the room and the phial shone as bright as the sun outside the room.
“Oh shit,” Macon said. He turned slowly around the room, keeping the phial raised as high as he could lift it.
Roughly twenty demons surrounded him and were shielding their eyes from the light.
Macon reached for the holster inside his jacket and realized the gun was on the floor near the doorway. He moved slowly towards it, the demons backing away from the light. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before one of them was brave enough to endure the light and attack him. He had hoped it would be after he reached his gun, but that was not a reality he knew would ever appear. He was within two feet of the gun when the largest of the demons charged like a bull ready to gore someone. He dove and rolled for the gun.
Two spent shells hit the ground the exact moment the demon did. There was a hole the size of a man’s clenched fist where the demon’s face used to be. The brain matter lay splattered on the wooden floorboards and on the demons now facing Macon.
“Hellfire rounds for everybody boys,” Macon said. He fired round after round until the gun was empty. He holstered his gun and reloaded while waving the phial in front of him like some unearthly torch.
One of the demons swiped at Macon’s jacket and sliced the arm holding the phial. He did not drop it but laughed when the demon’s claws burned off his body. It started a chain reaction that began to burn the creature from the arm up. In a matter of seconds the entire beast was enveloped in flames. The room quickly filled with the noxious smell of charred skin of the hell spawn. Macon backed out of the room and tossed the phial of holy water onto the burning demon.
“Drinks on me my lad,” said Macon. He laughed and shut the door just as the other demons charged it.
He turned and bumped backs with Jack Cray. Jack jumped back and aimed his guns in Macon’s face.
“Jesus Macon, don’t do that,” Jack said. He dropped his arms to his sides.
“What about you, you weren’t even watching where you were going Jack,” Macon said. He dusted off his jacket and sniffed the air.
“What is that smell?” Jack said. He looked at Macon.
“That one’s full,” Macon said. He motioned at the room with his thumb and smiled.
“Christ. Did you just leave them to burn? And what were they?” said Jack. He put a wrist up to his nose to cover the smell.
“Neekresh Clan, the ones that have the pink skin with the black dirt on them. They live near the border of the Styx,” said Macon.
“I don’t even want to know how you know that Macon, I’ll take your word. Where’s Amir?” said Jack.
“I thought he was with you?” Macon said.
Both men ran down the hallway of the abandoned hotel and made their way downstairs.
Amir Haytham walked into the circle he had created. Both his gun holsters were unbuttoned and ready for him to pull the weapons free. He whispered an incantation under his breath and waited. The sigils he had drawn in black chalk glowed golden. Several feet away from him the doors rattled and rocked in their hinges. Light could be seen flickering through the view port.
“Penetro Cella,” said Amir. He pulled his guns free and pulled the hammers back.
At first there was only sound, like static from a phone, then came the black smokes that swirled round and round but did not billow out towards Amir. From the obsidian plume came a shape that was all muscle and tendons. As the demon became unraveled on Amir’s plane of existence it shook and howled. He could see and hear the snapping of bones as they knitted themselves into a shape that Amir could see.
Macon and Jack arrived in time to see the mass of muscle and bone swipe at Amir. He turned towards them and yelled.
“I know what I’m doing Macon, stay back,” said Amir.
Macon and Jack watched as the demon swiped at the man with two guns inside the secured circle of magic. As if a force field had been erected around him Amir stood firm and did not even flinch as the demon’s scythe-like arm came crashing onto the circle. There was a sound like thunder and a crackle of blue light as the demon’s arm connected with the borders of the magical circle. Amir smiled at the demon which caused it to open its maw and reveal yet another mouth filled with razor sharp teeth. Amir pulled the triggers and watched the Hellfire rounds plunge into the creature’s body. For several seconds nothing happened. Macon tried calling to Amir but he couldn’t hear him.
The shells inside the creature’s body ignited and blew apart its chest. There was splattered muscle and bone everywhere in the room. The creature stood fully seven feet tall and towered over Amir. He could see the beating heart beneath its ribcage, black and pulsing. The demon drew its arms back and slapped them back together around Amir. The circle crackled and sparked and then to Amir’s dismay, dissipated. Before he could move the demon slapped its hands together again and Amir was nothing more than red mist.
“NO!” yelled Macon. He ran towards the demon with his gun and fired at it.
The round caught it in the left shoulder and sheered it off. Blood sprayed on the wooden floor and then began reconstituting the demon’s severed limb. The same process had begun with the monster’s chest. But before it could Jack had slammed a silver lance through its heart and pinned it against the far wall of the room. Macon ran up to it and began punching it in the face and body. Parts of the demon burned off as Macon’s tattooed fists sheered off bits of it with each fierce punch. Soon there was very little of the creature left and Macon pressed the palm of his left hand on the dying creature’s chest. As if placed on a hot skillet, the flesh and bone began to peel off and melt. The entire demon was covered in flame shortly after and turned to thick black ash.
Jack walked over to the only things that remained of Amir Haytham, his guns. They were covered in blood. Jack bent down and picked them up as if they were Amir and gently placed them in his backpack. Macon slammed his fist into the pile of ashes and watched as they floated all along the room. He looked at Jack putting Amir’s guns away and nodded.
“Time to go Jack,” Macon said. He was covered in ash and blood.
“Yeah, time to go home and tell everyone Amir is gone,” Jack said. He looked around the lobby of the abandoned apartment and stopped at the door.
“Hold on a second Macon,” said Jack. He reached into his bag and pulled out several metal discs with strange sigils on them. The sigils themselves were gold and the disks were stainless steel.
He placed one disk on the wall where Macon had killed the demon, another on the circle drawn by Amir and several more at the entrance to the tenement. He pulled out what looked like a small cell phone and pressed the only key on it.
“Run,” Jack said.
Both men ran back to the car they had come in and Jack started it up. Ten second later the apartment was rubble. It didn’t collapse outward, but fell in on itself and nothing touched the buildings beside it, not even the dust it kicked up as it crashed down to ground level.
“What the hell was that Jack?” said Macon. He looked out the rear window of the car at the pillar of thick black smoke rising to the sky.
“Something I’d been toying with. They’re bombs, obviously, but the have containment spells on the casing, so that even though the casings eventually melt away, the…”
“The spell remains working. Jack that’s brilliant. How did you learn to do that?” Macon said.
“Ozzymandius taught me how to draw the symbols for protection then it was just a matter of saying the symbols while creating the bombs. It became a litany of sorts,” Jack said.
“So Jack Cray, feared Vampire hunter learned magic like the rest of us? I’m impressed Jack. Those same protection spells could be put in bullets as well couldn’t they?” Macon said.
Jack smiled and turned on the radio. Bob Dylan belted out Like A Rolling Stone. Macon laughed and then stopped.
“What are we going to tell Ozzymandius about Amir? The circle didn’t hold. You saw what the demon did,” Macon said.
Jack stopped smiling. He screwed his eyebrows up and frowned. “I don’t know Macon. It was just too powerful for him. What did he summon? And why did he summon it?”
“That’s what I want to know Jack. And only Ozzymandius Blake will know that,” Macon said.


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