On Ebony Wings

A painted ebony sky laid splattered with storm clouds. The wind blew gently, just enough to whisper to the trees and gain their rustling reply. Jensen McCalihan gazed up at the copper colored moon peeking at him from behind its shadowy curtain. The light from it reflected silver off of his sandy hair, as his hazel eyes scanned the woods. He knew it was here, he felt it within every inch of his body. He sensed its presence, but it knew he was here long before he acknowledge its existence.
A rustling behind him gave Jensen uneasiness, his jaw muscles tightened instinctively, and his hands clinched within the pockets of his black leather jacket. He was waiting. He kept his mind on the weapon that lay settled next to his clinched fist in his coat. "Breathe," He reminded himself silently. Again a rustling noise caught his attention, but this time it was closer and to his left. His fingers gripped the stock of his pistol ready for what was to come next, that is if everything hadn't went black.
Jensen moaned as the static film surrounding his consciousness slowly faded away. Ever so slowly everything was coming into focus. Breathing now seemed more labored, and the smell of dust and dampened mold flooded his lungs. He felt his hands bound and suspended above him, still adjusting his vision and being able to focus clearly eluded him. Finally his vision awoke from its slumber, and he tried to see where he was.
The smell of fresh blood invaded his senses and kicked his heart into high gear. He knew what had him here, and he knew the consequences of what was to come. His impending fate seemed to be written, and was postmarked for delivery. Too bad fate didn't see what he had waiting for it. Though it may seem that doom now awaited him, he wasn't going to let it seep in and win without a fight.
"SCREEEEEE" Went the sound of a sharp nail running down the side of a cobble stone wall. As if on cue Jensen's head turned and tried to see what was lurking behind him. A black figure appeared, shaped like a man yet so mangled that it couldn't possibly be human. It had no eyes only socked where eyes had once resided. Nose slits served as nostrils, and as for a mouth it looked like skin had been stitched from upper lip to chin, creating a stitched appearance. Covered in a murky brown clingy skin. Sharp claws served as hands, and the stench that followed the beast was enough to make the dead cringe.
He felt the creature’s nails rake slowly around the right side of his neck. At first it was softly then he felt it cut into his skin leaving and inch long gash near his throat. Fire went through his skin, as he groaned and grinded his teeth. The creature stepped in front of him, as if mocking him he stepped slowly closer and put itself in his face. The cavern where Jensen was held had just enough light from the outside world that he could see the Hellion in front of him.
The scent of death and decay over came him. Rotting flesh, and then he looked into its eye sockets. No longer where they empty but they held a vision. In the eyes of this demon was his assumed fate. There he lay hanging while this thing consumed his immortal soul, then his physical being. All while he screamed in treacherous pain. He knew at that moment that if he didn't break free the vision was going to become reality. That his immortal soul would be sacrificed to the creatures, demons, and savages of hells deepest pits. That wasn't going to happen.
Slightly twisting his wrist, Jensen hoped the ropes that bound him would get loose enough that he could effortlessly fall to the floor. Rope burn, at least, he knew would be in his near future. The Creature roared sending particles of rotten decay into his face as well as a stench that was bound to make him sick. It reached out a twisted claw to smack its prey, hitting only the air as the ropes binding Jensen’s hands finally broke. Instinctively his hands reached into his coat pocket coming up empty. “It must have fell to the floor during the fall…” He thought silently cursing. An excruciating pain racked his jaw and sent his head reeling, as he went flying into the stone wall behind him. His back wept with pain, and his eyes watered unmercifully. Scrambling with frantic hands Jensen felt a sharpened rock that cut into his hands, and quickly jerked it forward.
An agonizing roar filled the cavern, ringing his ears. The rock had caught the hellion creature direct center of its life-force. The crumbling dark figure in front of him reached forward one last time, scrambling to regain the life that would never return. The claw that had once been carving at Jensen’s face dropped slowly onto the dark damp earth.
Slouching back onto the wall he sighed a labored sigh of relief. Dried blood covered his face, and fresh blood lay oozing out of dirty wounds. He laid battered from his clothes to his skin, but he was not broken. This was not the first battle he had with these beings from Hell. No, and he anticipated several more. This battle he was fighting, was too precious to allow creatures like this to destroy him, especially when his immortal soul laid in the balance. Gods Angels were looking after him for the time being, or so it seemed.
Jensen carefully raised himself up off the cold dead ground and began running along the darkened wall searching for a hole to crawl out of. A dim light revealed his escape slowly he made his way through a miniscule crevasse. After what seemed like hours Jensen reached the opening to the cavern. Squinting he could make out a wall of tree guardians standing at strict attention in front of him. Moon light flooded between them allowing a small sense of visibility. Slowly Jensen crept out from between the rocks hugging him tightly within the cavern walls. “How the hell did that creepy bastard get me into here?” He mumbled and he felt a rock cut into his back.
The night was still cold, a dew had settled in upon the earth. The wet blanket sprayed the bottom of Jensen’s pant legs as he slowly walked through the woods. He ached from head to toe, a warm bed was sounding really good right about now. The night was silent, but the air still reeked of the eerie chill of decaying flesh. Jensen sniffed his sleeve nope, that was definitely him. His nose crinkled and he abandoned the jacket that was bashed and tattered. He walked onward, not knowing his destination or where he even was.
He walked knowing that soon the sight of civilization would come back, or at least he hoped. His gun was gone, he stunk, his favorite jacket destroyed, and now he walked in the darkened woods. “Why,” was all Jensen could think as he pushed onward, “Out of everyone on this earth am I so lucky that these creeps and freaks find me?”
Jensen never could make sense of it, ever since he was a young boy strange and unusual things would occur around them. Once when he was six, he was playing in his back yard he remembers a rustling from behind him. Looking back at his mother’s shrubbery littering their yard he saw nothing. “Swish!” a sound erupted from his right and he turned. A cool breeze blew suddenly giving Jensen a chill. But the breeze stopped almost as soon as it began, but the chilling cold stayed. It chilled him down to his tiny bones, it crept up and snatched his breath. A small whispering filled his ear, a whispering that would haunt him always.
“You are unique, you are the chosen, remember this that in all you do there is great power which you alone have obtained, do not question it, and one day soon I shall return to you.”
That day has since been embedded in his mind.
After several hours of walking, which seemed more like an eternity, a small rustic town popped into view. It was your typical little mom and pop town. A small dinner, several small shops, with several small dilapidating houses littering one small block. A single red light stood square in the center of town. The town center was of course the large white church with the large mahogany wooden cross planted on top. It wasn’t much, but as long as it had a warm bed and a shower then Jensen was game to stay anywhere.
The hotel was a rickety old building, a little dilapidated, but it was still functional. The all wooden planked building seemed to speak of trouble as it stood moaning with each step Jensen took upon its floors. “Creak…,” the wooden door moaned in anguish as he made his way slowly, sorely, to the front desk. Behind it stood an older gentleman. A small hunch to his back, grey hair lay implanted oh his head, combed over to the left to cover his bald spot in the center. His silvery eyes spoke of the many stories he had to tell, and the world in which he experienced. His body seemed to be dwindling away slowly under his baggy checkered blue shirt, and khaki pants.
“Excuse me.,” Jensen mumbled as he lumbered ever so slowly towards the check in.
There was no response. “Excuse me,” He repeated a tad louder.
The man turned around, Jensen jumped and furrowed his brow in pure discuss. His face had been severely mutilated. A scar ran from the top of his head all the way to the collar bone on his left side. Under his eye laid a deep gash that seemed to have never fully healed. His eye was a deep orchid white, which obviously meant that it’s sight was stolen from it years and years ago.
“Yes, can I help you,” he rasped out, his voice was barely audible, it seemed like he had smoked for many years, and his lungs were about to give out at any given moment.
“Uh, yes sir I’d like a room” Jensen stated as he tried to wipe the smirk of disgust off of his face. The mad leaned forwards to look at his book, his greasy comb over flopped over his bad eye, and his bones seemed to creak as he moved.
“Yes, here you go room 3, that be um…thirty dollars for the evening” the rasping voice returned.
Ready for a good night’s sleep the man was quickly paid, and Jensen limped to the room to the right of the check in counter.