The Following are excerpts of a few Short Stories I have written. This is My primary love is to write stories... this is what I have been doing for most of My life and hope to make a career of. Coming soon will hopefully be a book of short stories and a book that I've been working on for years that has been completed. The Following is an Excerpt from A Darke Beginning... this is an introductory story surrounding the creation of Damien Darke... how he came into being, as he is a Vampire who may one day be caught up in the struggles between the Normal and Supernatural worlds as a detective... there may yet be stories written of his exploits.
My eyes flew open to the blinding lights as I once again remembered the pressure of being squeezed to death. The face was there before my eyes once again with its scarlet red lips pulled back revealing those impossible fangs now dripping with saliva that seemed to burn my skin where ever it dropped. There was an incredible smell of rot breathing hot on my face and burning the inside of my nose as the face drew closer to mine. I wanted to choke. I could feel it pressing in my throat, but all it would do was burn there. Fear etched in my soul as the smell of rot billowed over me from that open chasm of its mouth just before the purest pain I had ever experienced tore through my neck and invaded my brain. My tongue pushed and prodded at the bit trying to force it from my mouth. My body twitched, still trying to force its way free from the bindings to pry myself free of those powerful arms, but all to no avail. My head swam with the possibilities that this was more than one of my typical migraine episodes, and then the absolute fear of death choked in my throat and pushed me to fight harder. I could feel the cooling wetness of more tears flowing down the side of my cheek as my head was roughly pulled to the right against my shoulder by my hair. There was a snapping sound, a sick popping sound that filled my head as I felt those fangs pierce and slowly push into my neck. The agony of it was so incapacitating that my knees weakened and I was forced to press my body into that of my attacker. My breath caught in my chest and refused to travel up my throat as the lips of that mouth fastened down upon my flesh and began to painfully suction at the newly open wounds. A grimacing groan escaped my lips as I tried to force my hands to push away at the body holding me up, but all too quickly the strength was being drained from my limbs. I could feel my lungs pressing against my chest in an effort to maintain the flow of air throughout my body, but barely did my chest move. I could feel my tongue pressing at the roof of my mouth in an effort to dislodge the restraint pressed against my teeth, but with my jaws bound shut it was all wasted energy. I could hear the sound of my blood pounding between my ears like a drum as if letting me know I was still alive, but as it began to slow and lessen in sound my fear of dying increased to the point that I longed to scream once more. A voice from nowhere suddenly echoed in my brain as I struggled in vain with this fight to continue living; there was the sound of a man standing over me, but the words I could barely make out. I forced my eyes to open even with the fear of that ghastly face staring down at me, but there was the face of another, a doctor, I believe, blocking some of the blinding light just above his head. My eyes, being the only thing on my head able to move, looked about the room as much as I could and I could see others there scurrying about and I was almost relieved. Relieved right up to the point to where I tried to speak and found my tongue still pressing hard against the bit that was being forcibly secured between my teeth. "We're loosing pressure," I could hear the concern in his voice, "where's that blood I ordered?" "BP falling and vitals are not stabilizing . . . we are loosing him, Doctor!" And then the voices faded away into a miasma of murmurs as the steady thump of my heart began to slow in rhythm between my ears. No longer was it pounding so loudly that it drowned out all other sounds, and yet I could still feel that creature's mouth suctioning at my neck in an effort to drain out any blood left in my body. My lungs ached as they labored to continue to draw breath into my body, but this too was all in vain as my body slowly succumbed to the death that was inevitable. Silence fell upon my ears and even the lights that tried to brighten the darkness failed and began to fade. I could feel the muscles in my limbs slacken until at long last I could feel them no longer. The last of the oxygen in my lungs wheezed out and I sighed as I felt my entire body go limp and give in to the death that had at last seized it completely. | The following is an Excerpt from one of my series sets... this one is The Dark Chronicles: Soul Stealer... and it follows the story of a man searching through time for the Demon who destroyed his life by killing his family and implanting a part of its essence to his soul. Given the curse of Immortality, Lucious Darke is out for revenge against a being who is out to rule the world.
Lightning flashed. In that instant of brightness, he could see his crop nearly lying over pushed by the might of the wind. For just a brief moment, night became day and in that moment of daylight brightness all could be seen and all of the shadows were subdued. Just in that brief moment, he saw something out in the night that chilled him to the bone; a pair of eyes suddenly broke the dark. Those eyes pierced through him and he felt his blood turn to ice in his veins. A demonic red set of eyes that paralyzed him, holding him there in the window unable to say a word. A scream burned deeply within his chest, but his throat refused to open and release it. He could feel the muscles in his arms strain to push him away from the window, but his body refused to move at all. Then the eyes were gone. Panic raced through him as he tried again and failed again to move away from the window. He could hear his wife talking to him, but Sarah’s voice seemed to be so distant as if she weren’t even in the same room. His throat constricted as he tried again and again to call out her name. Panic burned his heart as a knock at the door sent a new chill racing up his spine. He could hear Sarah asking him to get the door because it was so late and they never had visitors call at such an hour. He could hear himself screaming for her not to answer the door, begging her to run, but the cries were only in his head. The muscles in his neck strained to turn his head to watch as his wife stood and walked to the door. The room began to swim around him in a nauseous miasma of colors as he continuously tried to force his body to move, to force the words out of his mouth to beg for his wife to stop. He could feel the tears streaming from his eyes as he watched her release the lock and the door slowly swung open. Lightning flashed and the thunder roared through the heavens, wind whipped through the crop and pushed the door inward forcing it from Sarah’s hand. The smell of the driving rain no longer smelled fresh, but it now carried the rancid smell of death. The storm now raged inside his home, fiercely blowing about anything loose enough to fly around, and yet his eyes remained riveted upon his now shocked wife. Lucious Darke had no particular religious belief, but this night his brain screamed out beggingly, pleadingly to any god that would head his cry. He watched as his wife just stood there in the open doorway with her face frozen in terror, her eyes stretched in fear and her mouth hanging open screaming out calling to him, pleading to him to come to her. She looked so helpless and so terrified, but his legs would not move towards her, his hands could not reach out to her, and his cries would not reach her ears. How would you react if you just watched as everything you knew and loved was destroyed before your eyes, if you witnessed the end of the world? For James Meserick it was devastating to find out he was the last man alive and over a bit of time he just couldn't.... well you'll have to read about it to know... this is an excerpt from the short story The Last FootSteps. He had just slipped on his pants when the words of the President hit his brain fully and he now understood what the man had said. Sweat ran down his face profusely as he ran through the house calling for and looking for his wife so that they could get down into the basement of their home, but she didn’t answer. He stopped in the living room looking around madly then remembering she had just run out to her car to leave for work. He ran for the door and snatched it open running out into the front lawn screaming her name, crying for her to come back, but he did not see her car. |
