The Creature

The slow poison fills his mouth, and he lets it sit before inhaling it into his lungs. He exhales a pale green smoke from his nostrils before gripping his hammer. One, two, and three strikes are all it takes to break a hole into the wooden wall. He stares at it for a second, inhaling before gripping it. His face contorts as he pulls back. Seconds pass before the piece begins to pull from its brothers. He steps aside as the plank falls to the ground. As the minutes pass, his mind enters a self-imposed stupor, and minutes turn to hours. Finally, as the sun reaches the horizon, the horrible horn blows in the distance. He cracks his neck and reaches for his hammer, walking toward a man dressed in faded, obnoxiously bright cottons. He avoids the man's eyes, holding out his hand. The weight of the coins that hit his palm feel lighter than yesterday. He tries to force himself to glare at the man, but all he can do is tighten the grip on his hammer as he passes him by.

He stops by a cart, handing the worn man a single copper. The man takes it in his leather hand, and hands the boy a wooden box of twisted, dark green sticks. Half of his day's earnings are gone. He continues down the ash-coated road. The sharp, metallic sound of iron striking iron makes him look up. He watches as a man sits in leisure on a stone bench, staring intently at a silver, floating hammer as it strikes wood. Again, the boy can only clench his own worn, wooden mallet.

Finally, he reaches his home. The beaten, cracked stone foundation holds up a neglected home that far overextends its capacity, the thin pallets visibly straining under the weight of the floors above. He's now sitting on his bed, staring at a considerably interesting knot in the wall. The hammer remains clenched in his fist, and it takes hours before, finally, he releases it. As it strikes the floor, it easily embeds itself in the giving floorboards. He falls back onto the bare frame of his uncovered bed, ignoring the sharp sting that runs up his spine. He closes his eyes, and the day ends.

He does not dream, and opens his eye to the ceiling. He pushes himself up, reaching down and forcing the hammer free from its resting place. The soft hum slips in from the cracked window. He walks toward it, and the soft hum becomes a crackling roar. His fingers clench the underside of the panel bordering the clouded glass, and jerks it open. A breath away from his face, a swollen, pus-filled maw hisses a whispered scream. He stares into the void, and he smiles.

His wrist curls, shoulder twisting as the hammer cracks the sharp, exposed bone of the monster's jaw. The sharp, guttural sound of ligaments torn from bone fills his ears as the beast leans back. Its claws slacken, but continue to hold their grip. Again, his fist swings back and the sharp, splintered corner of his mallet strikes the right eye socket of the beast. Pale, white fluid gushes from the deflated eye, splashing his face. The creature lets out one last, human-like gasp before its limp body falls several stories. As its corpse strikes the ground, a final, muted crack sounds from the now lifeless figure.

The boy runs toward the door, throwing it open to the burning skeleton of his home. Without a thought, he sprints down the hallway. Flames lick his clothes, burning pieces to his body. Not a yelp, not even a grunt comes from him as he reaches the stairs. Only heavy breathing escapes him as he makes his way to the bottom floor. Within the lobby, contorting bodies cry out at the charred figure standing at the doorway as the fires consume them. He leaves them, his only thoughts on escape. The front door had long since burned away, and now only the muted, smothered sunlight remains. He escapes, at his boot the corpse of the creature he killed mere minutes ago. His eyes go wide, and ignoring the chaos surrounding him, he falls to his knees and begins tearing his hammer into the corpse. Minutes pass, and the shell of the building behind him begins to collapse as he rises to his feet. The remains of his charred clothing, now coated in the pale viscera that once belonged to the stain on the ground that was once the monster that had rudely awoken him. The smile finally leaves his lips. He strips what he could of his shirt, throwing it beside the smear before starting down the road.

"Carson! Carson R... Starl's heart, what happened to you?" shouts a familiar voice. The boy, Carson, stops. He rocks back on his heel, deciding if he was going to turn or keep walking. After a couple moments, however, he turns. An older man with a youthful face and curled, red hair waves down Jeffrey as he runs to meet him.

"Something... woke me," replies Carson. "I dealt with it, but the house was on fire, so I left." The boy looks down at his hammer, letting it hang between his thumb and index finger.

"Oh no, are you... are you doing okay?" asks the older man. He puts both hands on Carson's shoulders, and looks him over.

"I'm not bleeding," says Carson.

"That's not what I meant," replies the man. "We'll talk about this after we get out of the town. The entire place is a lost cause, the best we can do is try and find my horses. I hope they didn't get spooked." He lightly squeezes Carson's shoulders. Finally, he sighs and drops his hands, walking past the boy. "Let's go."

After only two steps, the man stops dead. His hand goes to the hilt of the sword scabbard attached to the belt on his right hip. Standing on top of a toppled cart is one of the beasts. Tan, gnarled flesh wraps around an elongated skeleton. Its flesh tears near the joints, exposing tendons and bone. Sharp, blood-colored crystals jut from its body like a plague. Its jaw draws outward, the crystals spread across the exposed bone like scales. Its eyes, however, were distinctly human. Bloodshot and feverish, it stares at the two curiously. Its head tilts as the man stops, and as he grabs his sword, it throws its maw wide and screams that same whispered scream. From its mouth, a pale yellow, viscous fluid drips from its teeth. It drops down, body spreading across the ground in a distinctly reptilian way, and it charges.

The man draws his blade: a thin, pointed rapier. His stance goes wide, and he holds the sword out, the tip pointed toward the beast. It dashes toward him, but he does not move. Feet turn to inches, and just as the tip of its broken, bat-like nose makes contact with his torso, he pivots on his right foot, side-steps the monster, and pierces the blade through its ear. The creature screams, snapping its head around to shake the blade loose. The man steps back, striking the same pose and waiting. The creature twists its spine, bone audibly cracking as it contorts itself to strike him again. He lunges to the left of it, and drags the tip of his rapier through its throat.

The monster crashes into the gravel, twisting and thrashing as it desperately attempts to cover its torn throat. It tries to scream, but the blood flooding its esophagus allows it only a muted gurgle. Its claws then fall from its neck, and the body goes limp. The man draws a dagger from his left hip, and carefully approaches it. With cautious agility, he walks up to it from behind, steps over it, and with a single stab he pierces through the top of the creature's skull. He gives the blade one good twist before jerking it free. He wipes the blood and brain off on the creature's flesh before returning the dagger to its scabbard.

Carson stands there, without a sound and without moving save for a tiny smile that creeps across his lips. Once the man finishes, the smile fades and he approaches, but still remains silent. The man too says nothing, the energy drained from his face. Without a word, they continue down the path.

The town is nearly silent as they travel through it, only the steady roaring of fire and the sudden cracking of wood and stone fills the air. The corpses of twisted monstrosities and half-eaten bodies quite literally litter the streets. The man eventually keeps his dagger drawn as they step over and through the many bodies. Occasionally, they hear the muted sound of something feeding nearby, or the scraping of claws across stone, but they remain unmolested. Finally, they reach the stables.

The man takes a copper key from his belt, unlocks the gate, and slowly opens it. As he peers inside, his right hand suddenly covers his mouth. Carson stops, clenching his hammer, but he begins to hear the man laughing. Carson loosens his grip, and looks inside. Within the stable, there are two horses, looking relatively placid, though annoyed. At the back hoof of one, lay one of the beasts. The side of its head carries a distinctly horse-shoe shape indent crushed into its skull. Carson walks in, giving the horse a wide berth before approaching it from the front. As his hand reaches out and touches its mane, its head lowers and it nuzzles against the man's arm.

"That's a good Rose..." says the man.

He unties the ropes holding them to the post, and waves Carson over. The boy doesn't move, staring at the creature, at the horses, and then at the man. Finally, he sighs, clenching his hammer as he gives the other horse an even wider berth. He stands there, a good arm's length away from it. The man leaves, returning from a small shack with two saddles with bags, two blankets, and a pair of reins. He throws the blanket over their backs, and then gingerly places the saddles over it. He winches both down and then fastens the reins. He throws a pair of reins belonging to the other horse, Crimson, to Carson. The boy lets the reins drop across the horse's side before slowly picking them up. Both leads their horses out of the stable. The man effortlessly throws his leg over Rose, mounting her. The boy brings Crimson near the stable, climbs onto one of the fence posts, and jumps onto the saddle. He winces and sighs, dropping his hammer into one of the saddle bags and grabbing the reins. The man gives the reins a gentle snap, and Rose breaks off into a steady gallop. Crimson begins following behind her before Carson has a chance to react. Carson exhales, his body visibly slumping. They reach the one road out of town, and without a word the man lets out a whistle. As the horses break out into a run, Carson takes one last look over his shoulder. Behind them, a dying town lets out its last, gasping breathes as even the fire begins to die. The boy watches this, and he smiles.