Vortex

The night air was a cool chill that resinated with the pitch black curtain of twilight that loomed over the humble town of Sawyerville. The evening had settled long ago and with the alignment of the stars came a celestial beam which tore through the empty vacuum of space, and beat down into ancient runes which echoed in a mystical silence beneath the blacktop of the unsuspecting community. That beam of light, which tunneled through the modern crust that had collapsed over a forgotten civilization nearly a millennia ago, buried itself beneath the earth until making contact with the great head of a sunken temple.

One which held the archaic symbol of it’s people at it’s peak, awaiting awakening from the skies. The light stirred no one. Thunderous slashing gashes of yellow lightning split the clouds building around the beam. Yet, to the slumbering suburbans below, the night was a soundless tranquility of slumber. And when the light from the stars touched the rune atop the temple beneath the planet, there did come a vast silence as the pocket of time began twisting within the beam’s glow. Swirling, there appeared a vortex of black and purple mana which bent out of tune with the flow of darkness.

Above the blacktop loomed a portal to a place outside of known existence. The hamlet was none the wiser and kept still in a hush-filled sleep while evil began to grow. From the vortex beneath the light of the stars there came a breathing. Something distant and alien began creeping. Out from the swirling and tearing round mass stepped the leg of one monstrosity. It was the personification of evil in a black hat and coat, unseen. Out, did his hand did stretch, to grab the night air as evil bent forward, taking his first breath of Sawyerville.

Behind him the portal grew, relentless in shape as evil smiled a vile grin. His teeth were sharp as the devil’s wits and he stepped forward unto the unsuspecting town. His boots pressed into the street as the stars died upon evil’s arrival. With each step he burnt the bottoms of his shoes in melted ash in a trail from where he’d first made physical contact with the earth. Evil strode, knives and instruments of torture at it’s sides. Still, this half of the world slept as the approaching abomination rustled no one.

The world was cut off and quiet. Unaware of evil’s arrival. And it was to be the undoing of man which this reprised force was to unfold. Evil brough with him the aura of the old world and it’s secrets loomed frozen on his mute lips. This creature had come from a time of druids, alchemists and soothsayers. From that forgotten portion of history he was imprisoned within the runes that lied beneath the planet. Across the world there rested evil, beneath the sands of history and the forgotten ethos of existence they remained.

He was but one of a million horrors awaiting the celestial alignment. Awaiting the time in which the terrors of the past were given their resurrection and the newest age of darkness could begin.

Reviews

[Pinkmaga5]

This was quite a gripping story. Had my attention to the end! Very well written and contained elastic vocabulary. Very talented writer!!

[matrixmark]

This was quite the piece. Really polished and very well structured. You described the scene beautifully even though the scene itself was given a dark in nature setting. Images just kept flooding fat me and I was most impressed at the way in which you weaved this tale. It fel so real, almost like you could reach out and touch it, such was the power of your words.
I was most impressed by the little gem which I have stumbled upon.

Excellent work.

Mark.