The Heath
Tonight it is raining. The sky filters through the burnt sky, the moon makes it glow. It never changes now. The rain is so purple it is almost black. It stains the skin.
He is standing in the rubble of what was once his home. His hairs is so black you can�t tell where it ends and the trench coat begins. You almost can�t see him, can�t tell he is there. The rain doesn�t help. But THEY know - the bloated, decaying corpse�s that once fought against him.
It has been three days. The smell would get to most, but over the centuries he has become accustomed. He has grown to love it, having been surrounded by it for so long.
Such fragile creatures these mortals. Always so easy to kill, but for him easier to bring them back. He has a power over them now. Soon, they begin to rise. He was careless this time. Many are disfigured. Arms, legs, even heads are strewn across the clearing. But it is no matter, they will rise. They must heed his call. He gets a sick pleasure from watching the most butchered drag themselves along. Heads trying to reattach, not always succeeding to merge back from whence they came.
He must only wait a day before he can bring them back. After that everything that made them who and what they were is gone. They are too hard to control if they have a past, any remembrance of soul.
But it is different here. This ground has a soul of its own. Centuries of pain and death will do that. He had hoped that three days would be enough. The heath did, after all, get to claim these hundreds of souls. It had been fed. It shouldn�t interfere.
Slowly he began building his mental shield. The eyes always gave him away. He had never had human eyes. The whites glowed around an emerald core surrounded by lilacs.
They began to rise. They were coming. Coming to take their place at his side. Unsurpassable numbers, all searching for the rest of themselves. Many not even competent enough to do that much without being told. He didn�t care. The worse they looked, the better he licked them. The more he loved them.
The lightening became more harsh. Soon, it was blinding light. It was time to take them. Time to return with his children.
Just as he had come they were gone. And throughout the empty clearing, a laugh rang out of nowhere.
By: Sheena Allen