D is for...

My D word is a bit of a stretch but does fit in with the Creepy Crawly theme. Bearded Dragon

 

Failed Invasion

 

"People call them dragons."

"What? Those tiny things?" Bending, I looked at the tiny creature that was standing on it's hind legs and leaning against the laundrey detergent. It was no longer than two inches. Nothing like the glorious creatures I remembered from my youth.
"You must be joking."

"I told you, they would be easy to take."

"Shhh, someone is coming." Shimmering, I morphed into a puddle and slid under the door. Once outside, I transformed again, blending into the tiger lily's that were blooming. I could hear a woman speaking.

"Franklin is coming for dinner tonight, I thought I would spruce the place up a bit."

Then I heard her shrieking. "Ewww, get it, get it...don't let it into the rest of the house!"

"Lois, it is just a lizard."

"It is a wretched, ugly beast," Lois said. The door opened and the creature was swept out of the house. The lizard sat there a moment, dazed, and then crept into the flowers to escape the crazed human.

"Not a very polite species," Glek said. "This planet will fare better, once we have removed them."

Before I could respond, the human took hold of me, wrapping her fingers around the stem my body was emulating.

"These tiger lilies will be perfect. Franklin loves them."

Realizing the mistake I had made in choosing this form, I attempted to transform before it was too late, perhaps into a fierce dragon, so this woman would know what a true fire beast was. My body shimmered for a moment, but her closeness prevented my being able to change. The scissors slipped in and cut.

"Glek, I can not change back!" My thoughts were frantic as I sent them to him. "You need to shift now, if you are to survive."

"I am afraid it is too late," Glek said, joining me in the woman's hand.

As we were carried back into the house, I saw the small 'dragon', leave his hiding place and crawl onto a rock, sunning himself.

Y is for...Yeti, (A Cursed Life)

A Cursed Life

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

Morgan Scott sat around the camp fire with her boyfriend, Trevor Richter and wondered how she had gotten herself into this mess. They were to be married in less than a week, but now she was beginning to wonder if they should call it off. It seemed everywhere they turned, some catastrophe or another would befall them. Years before, her grandmother had told her she was cursed and would never know happiness as long as she lived. Her mother had been horrified when she found out; sending the old woman to live with another family member, but the words had never left Morgan.  Now, sitting in the middle of a frozen wasteland, feeling a tad bit lucky to have survived the plane crash, she was beginning to wonder how much truth her grandmother had spoken.

“Don’t worry; I am sure someone will find us soon.” Trevor had been saying that for a better part of the day, repeating it like a mantra, “Don’t worry, I am sure someone will find us soon, don’t worry, I am sure someone will find s soon, don’t worry…” even though no one would realize they were missing for another day.

“My wedding dress was on the plane,” Morgan said, repeating her own personal mantra.

“I’m sorry,” Trevor said, his voice reflecting his misery. Every time Morgan reminded him of the loss, he could hear the blame that she tried to hide. She denied blaming him of course, but he knew…it had been his idea to take the two man plane a day early, instead of waiting for a commercial aircraft. He had thought it would be an adventure. Then of course, Morgan was the one that had insisted on keeping the dress with her, instead of sending it ahead with the rest of their luggage.

Morgan was in the process of repeating her mantra, despair setting in as the sun fell when a low bellow sounded down the mountainside.

“What was that?”

“A wolf…maybe?” Trevor looked in the direction of the sound, his voice shaking.

“A wolf? They’re scared of fire, right?”

“Yes. Yes, of course they are.”

Another roar, this one louder and closer, brought the two closer, their eyes searching the Himalayan peeks for the source of the cry.

“That doesn’t sound like a wolf,” Morgan said.

“Mountain lion?”

“Not even close.”

Trevor considered suggesting a bear, but another howl sounded, followed by the thud of heavy feet.

“What is that?” Morgan was covering her nose, trying not to throw up. A smell that reminded her of dirty and mold wafted towards them and she gagged, swallowing bile and chunks of the lunch they had thrown together. And then the creature stepped into site.

“Ye…ye…YETI!”  Those were the last words Trevor spoke. The yeti picked Trevor up, its large hands wrapping around his neck and shaking him like a ragdoll. Trevor’s spine snapped, making him look more like a ragdoll, and then the monster flung Trevor, cracking his head open against a nearby tree.

Screaming, Morgan hesitated only briefly as her fiancé’s brains leaked out onto the snow. Turning, she ran, but she wondered where she would go. There was nothing around her but open land surrounded by trees and an intimidating mountain range. Then she fell flat on her face, her nose buried in the snow. When huge hands lifted her from the ground, she was sure she would die.

Instead, she found her nose buried in the creatures armpits. Finding the smell overwhelming, Morgan wished for death while she struggled to free herself, so she could breathe. The yeti clutched her even tighter, burying her head further. When he finally dropped her on the ground, after what seemed an eternity, Morgan was on the brink of suffocation and coughing up fur balls.

“Not the most convenient way to travel. Please accept my apologies for Herman’s rudeness.”

“Who…what…I’m dreaming.”

“I’m sorry, no. This is very much real. I saw your plane crash and thought since you would probably be dead by morning, you might appreciate a warmer place to stay.”

Morgan stared at the pale man that was sitting on a lavish couch in the middle of what could only be a cave. The ground she had found herself deposited on was covered by a Persian rug and candles were scattered about the cavern, as well as more expensive looking furniture.

“I see you are at a loss for words. Are you hungry?” The man snapped his fingers and another man moved into sight, carrying a large tray of pies.

“Who are you,” Morgan asked, finally finding the words that eluded her. In the corner the yeti sat on the ground, picking up a large bone and biting it in half. Morgan was sure the bone looked human.

“Roan. You of course are the lovely Morgan Scott.”

“How did you know that?”

“Your mind is wide open. I could hear you all the way up here in my mountain retreat. At first I thought to let you die, your whining over your wedding dress was so pathetic, especially since the crash saved you from having to wear it. You didn’t really want to marry that pathetic creature.”

“I loved Trevor,” Morgan protested.

“You didn’t. You did what you always do; drift through life, grasping at whatever you think will bring you happiness, thus hoping to prove your grandmother wrong. It never works. But I find you interesting Morgan Scott and I think fate brought us together for a reason.”

“Who are you,” Morgan asked again.

“I already answered that, but I don’t think that’s what you really want to know. The more accurate question is, WHAT am I?” His eyes grew black as he spoke, drawing her into his gaze. Her heart threatened to burst as she fell into their depths, hammering against her chest with a frightening rhythm. Morgan wanted to stay there, caught in his gaze, and learn all that he had to offer. Behind her the yeti mulled, gnawing on another bone.

“The villagers call me Mogui. They leave offerings outside their homes, hoping I will leave them in peace, but hunger always drives me to feed and thus, kill one of theirs. They hunt me, but I am safe here in my retreat. Herman is good for company, as is Boris, my servant. He is the reason I don’t need to feed every night, but his blood only satisfies for so long.”

“You are a vampire.”

“I am and a lonely one at that. But if you would grace me with your company…”

“Your…your creature killed Trevor!”

“You are welcome.”

Morgan stared at Roan, horrified. “You don’t really expect me to stay with you?”

“You can choose to leave, but you will freeze by morning. Or you can stay and live in luxury.”

“As a vampire?”

“If you would like.”

His eyes were drawing her in again and as Morgan stared into their depths, she thought she very much would like to. Her grandmother’s words came back to her.  Her actual words had been, “You will never find happiness in this life. You are cursed Morgan Scott, your true destiny lying with the dead. Only then will you know your true calling.”

“It seems you must die, in order to know happiness,” Roan said, reading her thoughts. His eyes compelling her, Morgan stepped towards the vampire, falling into his arms and accepting her new life.

Xavier (The Seventh Son of a Seventh Son)

Had a hard time with todays A to Z Blog Challenge. Finally cheated and worked X in with my villains name. Live with it. Kirk cheated on the Kobayashi Maru and he became the Captain of the most famous Star Ship ever.

The Vamplit Friday Flash Theme is Old Wives Tales. I worked several into this.

Xavier

The Seventh Son of a Seventh Son

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

Groaning, Selma rose from her rocking chair, her knees protesting sharply. Careful to stop the chairs rocking motion, lest an evil spirit decides to sit in it, she headed to the front door to see who it was that had intruded on her evening.  Looking through the small peephole, she crossed herself. It was Xavier, Dominique’s son. Checking to make sure the salt lined the threshold and hadn’t been broken, she shuddered, and then opened the door, only a crack though, she didn’t want him to take it as an invitation to come in.

“What do you want with me, Xavier?”

“I heard that you had been ill and thought I would check on you.”

Selma pulled her shawl around her shoulders and fixed him with a stern glare. “I am fine Xavier. I may be an old woman, but I’m strong as an ox.”

“Never the less, I know you are alone. It would be a shame if something were to happen to you.”

“Thank you for your kindness. Now if you don’t mind…” Selma moved to shut the door but Xavier stuck his foot out, blocking her escape. Behind her, the old grandfather clock chimed. It hadn’t worked for years. Another chill crossed her old bones and she felt real fear.

“Xavier, I am an old woman and tired, but don’t test my patience.”

“I will be back to check on you tomorrow,” Xavier said. Then without a word, he turned and left.

***

Selma dreamed of her sister. She hadn’t thought of her in some time. She’d died during child birth when she was only twenty-three and Selma had thought she’d long since put her twins ghost to rest. Thelma was talking to her, trying to warn her of something, but Selma couldn’t understand a word of it. Her words were jumbled at times and at other times, her sister’s mouth would move, but nothing came out. Then Thelma turned away from her, bending to pick something up. Selma strained to see what it was, but Thelma blocked her view. Finally she turned back, a smile on her face. She was holding a baby. The baby, still covered with the blood from birth began to scream, but the sound that came out sounded more like a crow than a child.

***

Selma woke up with a start.  Something was rattling at her window. Horrified she saw a bird flapping against the glass, trying to get in. It thrashed outside for a few more seconds and then took off, screaming its outrage at being denied entrance.

Something bad was going to happen, Selma could feel it. It had to do with Xavier’s visit; there was no doubt of that. He was the seventh son of a seventh son. She knew many people believed that made him a vampire…or a werewolf, according to some. She didn’t hold to that belief, although she suspected he had some strong magic. She also suspected he danced with Satan’s mistress beneath the light of the full moon, although she had no proof of that.  Getting up to go to the bathroom, she pulled her rosary beads off the bedside table and took them with her. When she was finished, she opened the door to the hall and felt a cold chill hit her face. The window at the end of the hall was open and the crow sat on the ledge, pecking at something bloody. Then the old grandfather clock chimed again and she heard footsteps crossing the floor of her bedroom.

“Xavier,” she said, peering into her room, “how did you get into my home?” Her voice was strong and steady, she sounded outraged. Truth was she shook with fright. She would be dead soon and she knew it.

“I came for you, mother.”

“I am not your mother. Now leave. She held out her rosary, the silver cross flashing in the light.”

“Your superstitions can’t save you woman.”

His eyes were dark and pierced her heart with their coldness. He moved towards her and she wanted to run, but her legs had turned to stone.

"I am so hungry old lady and you haven't long left anyway."

Then he was upon her, his arms around her, caressing her hair.  Selma’s heart stopped moments before he bit into her neck. Xavier drank greedily, trying to get it all before it cooled. Spotting a glob of the red nectar splat to the ground, he swiped it up with his finger and licked it clean.  Five second rule.

Old Wives Tales Used:

Seventh Son of a Seventh Son: Believed to have magical ability. In some cultures he is a vampire. When writing this my daughter told me she’d heard werewolf.

Clock that doesn’t work chiming means a death in the family.

Salt on the threshold of a door will keep evil spirits from entering your home.

Don’t leave an empty rocking chair rocking, or an evil spirit may come and sit in it.

Dreaming of someone who has died is a warning.

Dreaming of a birth means there will be a death.

A bird in the house is a sign of death.

5 second rule…couldn’t resist.

R is for Reaper...(Joining Brodie)

Today is the letter R in the A to Z Blog Challenge. It is also Vamplit Friday Flash and Black Cat’s is the theme. So, combining the two, R is for Reaper…

Joining Brodie

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

Eleanor stood over the open grave that contained the remains of her husband. She still didn’t understand what had happened. Brodie had been relatively young, only 48. He ran, ate the right food, his last physical had been damn near perfect.  If anything, Eleanor thought she would go first, drinking cola, snacking on salty chips and sneaking cigarettes behind her health conscious partners back.

Brushing away a tear, Eleanor cast an angry look at the sky. She wanted to rail at God, give him a good piece of her mind for taking Brodie.  A movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention though and she turned towards the plot of land a few rows from her husband’s. A black cat sat beside the gravestone, watching her.

“Don’t be silly,” she scolded herself. “It’s not staring at you.”

She tried concentrating on what the pastor was saying; something about Brodie going home to be with the Lord and she felt her anger surge. Again, she wanted to condemn God, disavow Him for taking her soul, because truly that’s what Brodie was. They were complete opposites; his yin to her yang, they completed each other.

Before she could send her contempt God’s way, the cat once again caught her attention. It had moved closer and was sitting nearly on top of her, separating their distance by only a few feet. And it was staring at her, its green eyes nearly glowing. Something about this cat seemed familiar and she gave a little start, realizing she had seen it with Brodie the day he died.

“Eleanor, are you okay?”  Her best friend, Caitlyn put her arm around her shoulder, offering support. Irritated, Eleanor fought the urge to pull from her friend’s touch, biting back a harsh reply.

“Of course I’m not alright, my fuckin’ husband just died,” is what she wanted to say, but instead she said, “I was just looking at that cat.”

“What cat?”

“The cat sitting right in front of us.” Eleanor nodded her head towards the cat, but it was gone. Looking around, even turning, so she could see behind her, Eleanor looked confused. “Well it was there just a minute ago.”

“It’s been a stressful day.  I’m amazed at how well you’ve been holding together.”

“I’m not seeing things! A black cat was just sitting there, no more than two feet in front of us. I don’t know where it’s gone, but you aren’t going to act like I’m a blooming moron!”

The other mourners turned to stare, while the pastor fell silent. They all had that look of understanding that Eleanor was getting tired of seeing. “To hell with it, now they all think I’m bloomers.” Motioning for the pastor to continue, she tried to forget the damn cat.

***

“Caitlyn, I promise I will be just fine. Go on home.”

“You don’t need to be alone right now. What did I promise you when we became blood sisters? That I would always be there for you. That’s binding you know, I have to stay.”

“We were six years old and all we did was prick our fingers.  I need to be alone. I want to think about him and if you’re here you’ll keep talking, trying to make me forget.”

“Not forget…but you need time to heal.”

“I’ll heal in my own way. We only just buried him. Now put down that plate and go.”

Sighing, Caitlyn put down the serving dish she’d been about to wash. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

Eleanor saw her friend to her car and then locked the door.  When she turned around the black cat was sitting on the back of her couch.

“Git!” Eleanor swatted at the animal, chasing it off the couch. The thing jumped out of her reach, landing on the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room. “GIT!”  Eleanor picked up a blanket and tossed it towards the cat. The creature arched its back and hissed at her, showing sharpened teeth.

“I don’t know how you got in here, but I want you gone! I bet you had something to do with Brodie’s death.”

Eleanor’s voice caught in her throat as soon as she said it. Suddenly she knew it had to be true

 “Oh my God, what the hell are you?”

Eleanor backed away from the creature…a black cat; they were supposed to be bad luck. She’d never bought into superstitions before, but now she was a believer.

The cat just sat on the counter staring. His eyes shone bright and he lifted his head, tilting it and looking behind her.

“What…what’s there?” Eleanor turned, expecting to find something dangerous. When she did, she moved her foot, not realizing she was at the edge of the living room It was only a step down into Brodie’s den, but not expecting it, Eleanor’s foot came down hard and she fell forward, wrenching her knee.

“Now look what you’ve done. Go away!”

The cat didn’t leave, but sat just out of her reach, staring at her. His eyes were unnatural. Eleanor tried not to look into them, but they were hypnotizing. Before long she grew drowsy. Closing her eyes, she leaned back, lying down on the carpet.

She felt the cat sniffing her leg and then climb up on top of her, its heavy frame moved up her body, until she felt his nose sniffing at her eyes. A tongue reached out, licking her tears. Then the cat pressed his nose up against her mouth.

“What the hell…” Eleanor tried to push the cat off, but she was too weak. When she opened her mouth, she felt the creature suck the air out. Her life draining from her, she opened her eyes. The cat was staring at her, its eyes glowing green. She knew what he was now. He was the Reaper, come to take her soul. Sighing, finding peace with her death, she closed her eyes and waited to join Brodie.

Word Count: 1,000

Ogress

Ogress

by Lisa McCourt Hollar

Lorn woke up with a headache. Opening his eyes, he  stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling. It looked like it was made of mud and rocks, but without his glasses, Lorn couldn’t make out much more than that. Closing his eyes, he decided he must be hallucinating. He reached for his head to try and ease the thumping behind his skull, but couldn’t move his arms.

“What the hell?” Lifting his head, he squinted his eyes, looking at his surroundings. How much did he drink last night anyway?

There were no windows. The room looked like his Aunt Edith’s storm cellar, with shelves lining the wall and junk scattered all over the place. “Where am I?”

Hearing a groan behind him, Lorn tried to turn, lifting his butt from the bed and twisting his back, but his arms still refused to work. “What…” Lorn turned his head and found himself staring at the rope that bound his arms to a rail on each side of the bed. Not comprehending what he was seeing, his first thought was that Ann Marie and her friends were playing a trick on him, but that didn’t make sense. Anne was mad at him last night, storming out of the bar when she saw Angela kiss him, but he had gone after her to explain that it wasn’t what she thought.

‘What happened after that?’ Lorn searched his foggy memories, knowing that something had to have happened to explain his being tied up. Another moan behind him, this time followed by a soft sob. Trying to turn again, this time Lorn managed to angle his arm slightly behind him. He felt a pull on the shoulder and knew he was dangerously close to dislocating it. He could know see behind him, if he tilted his head and strained his eyes to the side.

“Ann Marie?”

“We’re gonna die.” Ann’s voice was filled with fear. Something inside told him she was right, but he wasn’t about to admit that. They were still alive, so there was hope. He just needed to remember what had happened.

“Ann, do you know where we are?”

“In the Devil’s house.”

Lorn rolled his eyes, trying to be patient. Anne Marie came from a deeply religious family, anything bad that happened was attributed to Satan.

“Ann, I don’t see flames surrounding us and the air is rather cool. This isn’t Hell.”

“I didn’t say we were in Hell, I said the Devil’s house.”

“Ann Marie, that doesn’t make any sense…what happened, how did we end up here.”

“Demons brought us here.”

Lorn didn’t argue with her, instead he turned back around, easing the strain on his shoulder and studied the ropes around his wrist. Behind him Ann Marie was sobbing, words quietly spilling from her mouth as she prayed for mercy. Lorn shook his head, recalling that last night she’d been screaming obscenities at him, while she cursed him for his unfaithfulness.

“She kissed me, I didn’t kiss her,” he had protested, shaken by the wrath coming from her small frame.

“I didn’t see you stopping her!”

“I didn’t have a chance, she moved in too fast and then you were there, dumping a pitcher of beer over my head.”

“Liar!” Then she had let loose a long stream of profanity that would have shocked even the most hardened sailor. And something else happened. Lorn closed his eyes, trying to picture the scene. They were behind the bar and something had rattled the dumpster.

“What was that?” Forgetting that she had just damned Lorn to Hell, Ann Marie clutched Lorn’s arm, stepping behind him for protection.

“Probably just a cat.” Despite his assurance, Lorn stepped cautiously towards the dumpster. It probably was just a cat, but there were other, less safer things it could be. He had barely taken two steps, when the trash container rose in the air, sailing across the alley and crashing against the building that sat behind him. Lorn wasn’t sure at first what had caused the dumpster to erupt into the air, but a gaping hole in the ground made him think that perhaps there had been a gas explosion. Movement from the opening caught his eye and he stepped closer, forgetting for a moment the need for caution. Dark, angry eyes rose from the ground, followed by a mouthful of sharp teeth.

“What the hell, Ann run!” Lorn turned, ready to flee the monster, but something caught him from behind, grabbing his feet and knocking him on the ground. His head smashed into the pavement. Then he heard Ann screaming. He felt himself being pulled across the ground and then everything went black.

“What were those things,” Lorn whispered, his memory flooding back. He’d come too briefly. Eyes, vaguely female, but horrifying had been staring at him. Drooling on him.

“Put food thing in storage,” a gravely voice had said.

“He look niiiiice.”

“You can’t have a pet Petunia.”

Were they talking about him? Then everything had gone black again.

A door across the room opened up and a creature stepped in. Severely disfigured, the thing looked feminine, standing over seven feet tall. Her girth spanned three of him and when she saw he was awake, she smiled, showing jagged teeth.

“Good. You awake.”

Lorn stared in horror as she moved towards him, saliva dripping from her mouth. He wasn’t sure what she was, but the word Ogress came to mind.

Behind her a male version entered. He was even bigger than the female. The Ogre reached over Lorn and pulled Ann Marie from the bed, splattering blood in the process. Gagging from the gore that hit him, Lorn realized that Ann had been tied to the bed, similar to his confinement. When the thing had pulled her up, he’d severed her hands from her body. The female laughed, clapping , while the male walked past her, Ann slung over his shoulders, no more than a sack of potatoes. Her mouth hung open, a scream trying to form, but shock had set in. She stared at her arms and the bloody stumps, then at Lorn, her eyes beginning to glaze over. She was dying and Lorn prayed for the first time ever, asking that her death be swift.

The female smiled wider, leaning over Lorn . He pulled back, but tied down, there was no place to go.

“Father says can keep you for pet. I be gentle with you. Not rip head off, like last pet.” Then she left the room. A few minutes later he heard Ann screaming, then her voice cut off. Heavy footsteps headed back his way and the Ogress returned, carrying a bowl.

“I feed pet.” She set it down and lifted Ann Marie’s head out of the bowl. Ripping a chunk of meat from her cheek, she shoved it towards Lorn, expecting him to eat.

N is for Necromancy, (Tyr's Army)

It is time for the A to Z Blog Challenge and we have come to N.

N is for Necromancer

A Necromancer calls upon dark magic with the purpose of divining the future. He can also create an army of Un-Dead followers with his power, but is he really in control?

Tyr’s Army

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

They sat in a circle around the pentagram, a candle on every point. Josiah lay in the middle, his body already rotting, even though he’d been dead for less than a week, killed by Tyr, Kara’s husband. Now Tyr was attempting the unspeakable, he wanted to raise Josiah up.

Kara took the bowl that was passed to her and lifted the meat inside to her lips. It was putrid, having been flayed from the body of the sacrifice hanging above Josiah’s head. The woman’s blood dripped on his body, splattering in the corpse’s mouth, which had been wedged open to receive the sustenance. Kara gagged on the flesh and would have spit it out, except that Tyr was watching her. If she didn’t do as he expected, she may end up hanging above the next body he chose to raise.

The others in the circle consumed the flesh without hesitation. Tyr had promised each of them wealth and power, once they conquered the world. He was insane and so were his council.

“Josiah is the first,” Tyr said, his voice filling the room. “He will lead my great army into battle.”

The Council all raised their cups, filled with blood and praised Tyr’s name. Kara raised her goblet and smiled at her husband, before swallowing the thick liquid. When all the glasses were empty, Tyr began his chant, summoning Josiah. Kara repeated the chant with the others, her eyes never leaving Josiah. Her heart pounded in her chest, fearing what would happen when the spell worked. It would work; she had no doubt about that. Her husband was insane, but it was the dark magic he’d discovered that had driven him mad. It was the same madness that had driven her into Josiah’s arms. Tyr hadn’t said that he knew of their affair, but his choice in choosing his son as the first of his army left no doubt in her mind that he was well aware of their deception.

The chant finished and Tyr pulled a small bag from the folds of his cloak. There was a powder inside, ground from the bones of a dead child. He uttered a prayer to his dark lord and sprinkled the powder onto Josiah’s forehead. Slowly Josiah’s eyes opened. They were no longer the beautiful green that Kara remembered of her step-son, but were now a very pale gray, almost white. He stood and Tyr hugged him, welcoming his son back from the Underworld.

“Josiah, did you find out…will we succeed?”

Tyr, having visited the depths of hell, was believed to be able to divine the future. Tyr was asking him if they would be successful with their conquests.

“We will…but there is one that will try and interfere.”

“Who?”

Josiah turned towards Kara. His eyes bore into her and she shook her head, trying to find something of the man she had loved. His eyes were empty, soulless and he was now nothing more than a husk, a shell for whatever evil had taken his form. Tyr also looked towards his wife, his eyes hard as steel. “Take her.”

***

Kara stood in the front lines. Her heart no longer beat. She stared at Josiah, the commander of Tyr’s Legion of Un-Dead. She knew she once loved him and reached deep inside, to find the connection she had once felt to him and this world. It wasn’t there. Instead something dark slithered inside her mind.

They were getting ready to go into battle. They would be successful, the future was clear to her. The town at the foot of the hill would be overrun and they would kill everyone. Some, they would feed on, but the others would become a part of the army.

The thing inside her wrapped itself around the base of her spine. She smiled, a small remembrance of hatred surging in her brain. Tyr thought he was in control, but it was the demons that came back with them, entering their empty bodies that had the true control. Tyr would serve his purpose, for the moment, but when the time came, he would join the ranks of the dead and serve the Dark Lord as well.

K is for Κέρβερος...WTF?

K is for Κέρβερος

I am so sorry to be posting this so late. It has been a heck of a day and so much has been going on. But here it is, finally, letter K in the A to Z Blog Challenge.

Ok, I am stretching it a bit here, but I promised a monster for every letter of the alphabet and K was a killer to find. Ok, yes, I could have done the Kraken, but seriously, next to the creature I’ve selected, the Kraken is just fish food.  Okay, are you ready?  So here goes. K is for Κέρβερος.

And everyone says, “Whaaat?” Κέρβερος (Greek for Cerberus) is a three headed dog that guards the gates of hell. “Hey…wasn’t he in HarryPotter,” you ask? Why yes, yes he was. But Fluffy was a kitten compared to the actual mythological version of this beast. Even Hercules had a difficult time with him and Hercules was a demi-god.

Like most beasts, Fluffy, (hee hee) likes music. Orpheus, who was known for his musical abilities, lured the beast to sleep by playing his lyre. He was then able to enter into the Underworld and Hades  allowed him to retrieve his wife. Unfortunately he didn’t succeed, but not because Fluffy took a bite out of him, but because he was unable to follow instructions.  He was told not to look behind him until he had her safely out of Hades. He did.  So long Eurydice.

 Cerberus was the love child of Echidna, a half-woman and half-serpent, and Typhon, a fire-breathing giant.  His brother, Orthrus, had two heads, but at one time, Cerberus was depicted as having one-hundred heads. No explanation exists, (that I could find,) to how he came to only have three.

So how did Hercules take this dog down? He wrestled him. I don’t imagine the dog put up a huge fight though. Hercules killed his brother, Orthrus and his nephew, the Nemean Lion. Considering the track record of mythical creatures Vs. the demi-god, I don’t think Κέρβερος was ready to become a permanent resident of Hades.

Despite being bested by Hercules and lulled to sleep by Orpheus…and outwitted by Harry, Hermione and Ron, Fluffy is a vicious beast and one you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley on your way home from slaying a beautiful young woman.

 The Goddess and the Demon Dog

by Lisa McCourt Hollar

His shirt was covered in blood, but no one took notice as Tom slithered by, heading to his dingy apartment on the south side of town.  Anyone who chanced to look at the young man looked away quickly, their mind immediately erasing his memory. There was no magic involved, only fear and self-preservation. Tom had the look of the devil about him and no one wanted his image imbedded in their mind.

Tom had just finished what he considered to be a very profitable acquisition. He had liberated a rich heiress of her jewelry. The dumb bitch had tried to fight him for the jewels, but he’d dispatched of her proper, gutting her and spilling her lovely innards on the ground. She’d cursed him then to be drug to hell by Hades own demon dog. Tom thought that was funny, considering she’d be there first.

He would go home and wash first and then look for Scaggins. The filthy jeweler owed him and if he didn’t want to end up in the ground, he’d find a buyer for him. He was passing by an alley, when a movement from the shadows caught his eye. To his astonishment, the woman he had just murdered was standing there.

“I’m seeing things,” Tom thought and turned to leave, but she was now blocking his path.

“Going somewhere Tom?”

“How do you know my name?”

“I know everything about you. I know that just last week you killed a man over a few dollars in his wallet. Did you know that his wife was in the hospital giving birth? He was on his way from work to be with her.”

“Man should have just given me his money then.”

“He tried, but you didn’t give him the chance. You slit his throat.”

“Well what business is it of yours?”

Smiling, the woman gestured to her abdomen. The wound was bloody, gaping open with gore and entrails oozing out. “You made it my business.”

“Who are you?”

“Persephone.”

Tom’s bowels almost discharged when he heard the name of the dread goddess of the underworld. A fortune teller had once told him she would be the death of him.

“That and your lust for blood,” the fortune teller had said, as she lay dying on the floor. Tom hadn’t taken much stock in what she said though, since she hadn’t been able to predict her own death.

Behind the young goddess, Tom heard a growl. Peering into the darkness, he saw a dog slinking towards him. Then, as it came out of the shadows, Tom saw that the creature had three heads.

“”What the fuck!” Tom fell over backwards as the thing came at him, eyes glowing like they were on fire.  Snakes that were writhing on the hounds back, hissed and struck at him, their fangs digging in to his skin. A tail scaled and shaped like a dragons, swung around and flipped Tom over as he tried to climb back onto his feet. Then one of the dog’s heads dodged forward and latched onto Tom, dragging him to hell as he screamed.