A Chapter by Raven Starhawk


     The cabin, fixed in a cradle of parched earth and grass, would have been indistinguishable against the backdrop of darkness if it had not been for a pinpoint of light glinting from one of its small windows.  In the room a figure paced.  Occasionally she paused to glance at something in a shadow infested corner before sobbing and turning away.  Clumps of peppered white hair littered the floor.  United by traces of blood, pieces of broken glass and cracked dishes, they were nothing more than a memory. Her hands again raced through what was left on her head, but like many times before failed to resist pulling.

     She turned.  The mirror bore the face of haggard old woman with bloodshot eyes and a hooked nose.  The walls then bulged as though made of something flimsy and capable of taking on the images of hands and faces.  She looked down, sobbing harder than before, as she resigned herself to her fate.

     Smoky arms coiled about her.  She had taken her eyes off the corner where it resided though doubted it would have made any difference had she kept a close watch.  There was no stopping it.  She knew that and whimpered as its embrace tightened.  That was when she felt its putrid breath on the back of her neck.  No, not breath.  It didn’t breathe.  Then what was it fanning unkempt strands of hair sporadically spotted across her cratered scalp?

     Then the only light faltered and eventually expired.


I was starting to believe I had died inside. I couldn’t feel anymore.  Emotions seemed to be nothing more than a rotting memory.  Where have they gone? 

     Sitting with my back pressed up against a wall I stared.  Blackness hung in the room like an onyx curtain though never wavering even with night’s gentle breeze as it glided through the crack in the window.  My gaze then shifted as smoky talons lifted the woman off the floor.  She had been watching me for quite some time, but failed to realize I wasn’t the one she should be worried about.  I looked away as her screams were overshadowed by the sound of her bones shattering and sinew being ripped free.  Even then nothing stirred within me.

In the darkness the window of opportunity was far from closed. There was still time enough and reason enough to pursue blood. Blood was the only solution. Vermin must be eradicated. They reproduced at a mad rate. Half of them didn't want offspring, merely carnal delights. Flesh pressed against flesh, in and out, was a drug to the likes none other can measure. In some cases it was an addiction.  But how could humans lose their way if they were never on the right track to begin with. Fact was denied.  It brought out more and more of the need to eliminate them.

In the bowels of human existence stirred consequence. This was a reminder that their actions could not go without punishment. This was a conclusion that life must eventually end in order for death to settle in.  Shattered dreams echoed distant reflections. They rippled upon a mirror in orbit and propelling bits of earth and debris. And still as the moon rose high overhead the calls were heard, answered and entertained by vengeful might. Seeds of destiny plant a new harvest and as their stock grows so does need for decay. Elements strong and weak nurture every fabric left to spoil. And still as it surfaces so does the champion.

Time is a wish, I concluded as my view slanted. If the house falls so does the dwellers within but that was an obvious factor that registered even in the feeblest. But what was a mind without holes? What was a soul without hardship? Errors were plenty. They directed a peculiar traffic that might have never before flowed so steadily. Still it was all in the future and the future was gaining ground minute by minute.

Darkness was more than just a word. It was a place, a venture and a realm of enchanting promise. Within its murky depths adventure created such sorrowful and meager creatures. The dawn of time was the ending point to it all.

Death is the ultimate gift, I thought then. Without it there might never again be peace. For those decaying bags of flesh knew nothing of the true meaning of life and they never will. Their feeble minds could never grasp the truth. The will of death will allow no more nonsense to rule.

 Home was a word uttered by desperate fools. No mortal man lived without following the road to which lead to such a fairytale example. They were such arrogant creatures really. To think they believed every living creature was under their rule was absurd. Were they alone in the universe? Definitely not and to assume such a thing was an ever evolving arrogance that would surely destroy them.

Intelligent life existed beyond them. Their definition of it was lacking in sensibility, but knowledge was their weak point. They hungered for it though their little minds failed to grasp it. Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps there was no better way to silence them than to deny them facts. After all they wished to evolve into something greater. They longed to put a stop to death and disease while greed decides their every move.  And there it was. Greed was what truly held them back as a species.

 I stood before man not as a demon or any sort of deluded monarch. I understood statutes of limitation and still as I gazed at their faces I shrugged rotted shoulders and peeled away the flesh suit. As it touched the floor flames ignited and when nothing was left but a heap of ash I drifted around the oval shaped room.

 Born in my imagination were a curling set of horns and as I thought it, it came into being. Skin as black as coal stitched together, gave essence to a muscular figure before a split tongue rolled out between hook teeth and then I was born again. It wasn't the same born again nonsense holier than thou idiots preached. In fact there wasn't a single thing holy about it.

Destroy them all, mystery man. Destroy them with your executive orders. It is not enough to have them drop to their knees. You have to dismember such limbs so they cannot stand back up.

"Death by design," I continued. "Take the cross from every one of them." Hunching over the cluttered desk, I pressed a razor finger to the window and hissed, "Wear your true face."

© 2017 Raven Starhawk

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Added on January 24, 2017
Last Updated on January 24, 2017
Tags: fiction, Armageddon, death, chapter, horror