Interlopers From Hell

RE-AWAKENING… A darkness spread across the open ground like an oil spill – thick, putrid, and dangerous – soaking into the earth to poison and contaminate. At its heart, as black as the night, a twisted shape writhed. Inhuman, yet possessing identifiable human aspects, legs, torso, arms as thick as any python’s body. Within the congealed ooze, the body gyrated as if to some unheard music, a macabre dance, at once spasmodic yet strangely hypnotic. Nearby, white-clad spectators stared in wide-eyed disbelief as the thing moved and grew before them. Its massive head, featuring a mass of white, bloated, writhing worms, expanded fastest. From its wide, slack mouth, a lolling blue-black tongue wriggled and slurped, an overwhelming stench of decay drizzling from its cavernous centre. Between its teeth hung the source of this reek – shreds of torn flesh, still dripping with blood. Its feast the feast of death. “Come to us,” cried out a tall figure appearing from amongst the crowd. “Let us bow down before you and offer you tribute!” Falling to his knees, he pressed his forehead to the ground, arms spread out before him. Others followed, dropping like stone, some in awe, most in shock. A tremor rippled through the onlookers as the enormity of what they witnessed took hold. Had this truly happened? How? What curious mechanisms conspired to conjure up this demon? From where had it come? Those who asked such questions, daring only to form them in their minds, knew any such utterances would result in their certain death, a terrible death at that. So they watched and they stared, but none spoke. None dared. A scream pierced the night air, shrill enough to shatter glass. A girl, a flimsy nightdress unable to disguise her nakedness, was borne through the press of onlookers, held aloft by six men, two beneath her, the others gripping each of her four limbs. She struggled but could not free herself, begging for mercy, calling out to her mother, her lover, anyone who could hear. But no one did. They brought her into the swirling darkness where, in the middle, a curious manikin stood, made from straw, rags and paper. It was large, perhaps eight feet in height. Arms aloft, legs splayed, its shape formed a crude cross. The head, if it could be called such, was plain with no features, a mask of woven straw. The men bore the girl towards this curious statue and paraded her before the crowd, all holding blazing torches aloft, baying for blood, or perhaps something else. Twisting her body from side to side, the girl kicked out, struggling in a vain attempt to escape. Nothing worked. Those who held her were too strong, and they bundled her into the manikin through an opening in its back. When she was inside, they secured the entrance with wooden poles and stepped back to admire what they had achieved. “Raise her up and place her above the pit!” The pit, some half-dozen steps away, was a large gash in the earth. In its centre, a thick post, sharpened at the tip. Perhaps twelve or more feet high, due to the depth of the pit, its point barely protruded above ground. “Impale her!” The girl inside lashed out, her initial shock at being incarcerated in this macabre mimicry of a man subsiding as she kicked and pushed against the fastened hatch. There was little space for her to move and, unable to apply enough leverage to make her blows effective, she crumpled and sat, weeping. The hatch held firm. And now, the bearers, joined by many more, lifted the manikin and took it to the dugout. Around them, the spectators gasped as the men slowly lowered the structure onto the sharpened post. The weight of the structure meant it slipped onto the sharpened pole with little difficulty. A great howl came from within as the point pierced the rough floor of the mannikin and sliced through her flesh. The men lifted her and lowered her again. And again, repeating their exertions until the blood seeped through the straw and paper and dripped thick and slow into the depths of the pit. Her screams continued. She was not yet dead, despite the shaft perforating her body, haemorrhaging muscle and sinew. Without a word, the tall, thin man strode forward, gesturing for the bearers to step away. An unspoken command and a woman stepped forward to place a lighted torch into his hand. He held it high. “For you, oh great one!” He then tossed it, with almost dismissive ease, into the pit. Instantly it erupted into flame, igniting a mass of previously prepared bundles of straw, soaked in oil. Within a blink, the flames lapped upwards to engulf the blood-soaked manikin. The girl within cried out in a last, pathetic attempt to ward off any more harm to her already corrupted body, whilst behind, silhouetted against the glow, the form of the demon reared, and it screeched in exultation as it fed. Sated, it drew away, the girl’s screams now silenced. The flames took hold, circling the manikin, its entire hideous form swallowed up in the heat and intensity of the blaze. Hours later, with many of them returning to their homes, a few of the elders remained behind, warming their hands over the dying embers sizzling amongst the debris of the pit. The crackling and spitting of the smouldering remnants sounded impossibly loud in the stillness of the night. “You’ll be moving on soon,” said one of the men, fixing the one who had lit the fire with unblinking, searching eyes. “Now that it is done.” “Aye. As far away from here as is possible. We all should lie low until we are summoned.” “Summoned to do what this time, do you think?” “Whatever we are asked.” “When will that be?” asked another, unable to disguise the trembling in his voice. “Soon enough.” “You talk in riddles. Do we have to wait an entire lifetime?” “Maybe more than one. We will know when we are summoned.” “You’re elevated now, into the very highest of states. I envy you.” “I’ve lost much.” “But gained far more. Unending life.” “Aye.” They fell into silence, thoughts lost amongst the swirling worms of smoke. Nothing of the girl remained, only the memory of her screams. “And where will you go?” “Our gracious master has given me the tools to avenge the wrongs done to my family.” “To all of our families.” The thin man narrowed his eyes. “Soon, we will see them suffer, and I shall extinguish their line. Forever. Then our master shall feast on their souls.” “So,” asked another, voice uncertain, afraid, “where shall this begin?” “Where we once were. England. The middle parts of that land.” “And when will you leave?” A small snigger. “I am already there.”