Thursday, January 17, 2013

Bite of Story Thursday

Night Children: Dark Threats

Chapter Eight: Present Day, Hyde and Seek

Annabelle’s cold fist smashed through the zombie’s ribcage.  With her other arm she wacked off the creature’s head, sending it spiraling into a tombstone.  If she were human, these things would scare her, but she hasn’t been human for a long time.

Her brother Roland, laughed as he ripped a zombie apart and began to move at top speed around the graveyard, smacking the undead with a firmly held corpse.  His weapon of choice crumbled in his pale hands.  “Darn.  These things just don’t hold up like they used to.”

She smiled as she slashed a zombie in two with her nails.  “Whoever reanimated this horde didn’t take their time with the spell.”

Annabelle looked across the misty graveyard.  Gross bodies continued to shuffle from their graves.  Grey fingers clawed to the surface, revealing more decrepit enemies to fight.  So far none had escaped the sacred grounds of the cemetery, but with the sheer amount of undead, she knew it wouldn’t be long.

“And why zombies?” Roland asked as he unsheathed his silver cutlass.  “It’s so last week.  Why couldn’t it be living skeletons or mummies?”  He began to slash away at the horde, the moonlight reflecting off his sword.

Annabelle took to the air, hovering just out of the grasp of an undead man in a tux.  Half his rotten flesh seemed to fall off on its own.  “Could be worse.  They could be gremlins.”  She brushed off pieces of shredded corpse from her clothes.

“Ugh!  Please not those again.”  Roland flew into a mass of petrified bodies and began to slice them to shreds.  His blood-red eyes flickered and a wicked grin stole across his pale face. 

Annabelle continued to hover ten feet above the graves.  She focused on anything unusual. 

“You’re enjoying yourself.  Not a bad way to do our ‘sibling night’ patrol.”  He smiled as he continued to destroy more zombies.

“Still,” she continued from eight feet above, her red jacket flapped in the cool night breeze, “Something’s not right.  Zombies are normally weak, but these are pathetic.”

“Are you going to hang up there all night while I do all the work?”  His black jeans and sweatshirt began to turn grey with zombie remains.  “I’m working up a thirst.  We haven’t even gone hunting for breakfast yet.”

“You and your stomach.  I’m sure we’ll find a plump cat or dog to feed on soon enough.  Do you smell that?  There’s a hint of magic in the air.  I think one of our enemies left some kind of voodoo trinket somewhere in the graveyard.  If I could just spot it...” 


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