The Chapel Pt - 6
Ancient Fiction. Deathless Judge.
The onagers flesh sustained me and I walked across the desert, keeping the sun on my right in the morning and on my left in afternoon. I would look back on my dragging track and keep my path going ever Northward.
The viper and the scorpion sustained me, and while I hoped for death from their venom, it never came.
The bones of millions who had tried to cross the desert littered the sand. I wondered how many of them were from my tribe, my people.
My clothes were shredded by the blowing sand and my skin was baked to leather.
Sometimes I saw desert dwellers riding the crests of the dunes on their camels and once I found a camp.
A woman saw me first and she set up a sharp trill that alerted the rest of the tribe. I could smell their moist flesh and I openly salivated.
The men of the tribe ran around the camp and formed a line of spears but when they saw me clearer their strong shouts turned to cries of fright and alarm.
They all grabbed what they could and ran to their camels. The saddles were left on the ground in their haste. Women ran carrying their children and the men threw them onto their mounts. In a moment they were gone over the dunes leaving their tents and livestock to my less than tender mercies.
I feasted on the warm flesh of the sheep and goats. When I was sated and the blood lust had left me I slept in the shade of one of their woolen tents.
While I slept the men crept back and surrounded me. As quiet as shadows they moved. I never heard the command but as one they stabbed me with their stone tipped wooden spears.
I roared and flailed about but there were too many, while some held me impaled to the sand others stabbed at me over and over again.
It was a horrid thing to loose my strength but still to see as they hewed my limbs from me. They threw me into a pit with the offal and waste of the camp, pinning the parts of my body to the ground with wooden stakes and then shoveled sand over me.
I watched it all, and I screamed in horror and torment, morning that I could not die.
If I ever met that smiling ghoul again I would kill him a thousand times and still not feel avenged for the awful thing he had done to me.
The viper and the scorpion sustained me, and while I hoped for death from their venom, it never came.
The bones of millions who had tried to cross the desert littered the sand. I wondered how many of them were from my tribe, my people.
My clothes were shredded by the blowing sand and my skin was baked to leather.
Sometimes I saw desert dwellers riding the crests of the dunes on their camels and once I found a camp.
A woman saw me first and she set up a sharp trill that alerted the rest of the tribe. I could smell their moist flesh and I openly salivated.
The men of the tribe ran around the camp and formed a line of spears but when they saw me clearer their strong shouts turned to cries of fright and alarm.
They all grabbed what they could and ran to their camels. The saddles were left on the ground in their haste. Women ran carrying their children and the men threw them onto their mounts. In a moment they were gone over the dunes leaving their tents and livestock to my less than tender mercies.
I feasted on the warm flesh of the sheep and goats. When I was sated and the blood lust had left me I slept in the shade of one of their woolen tents.
While I slept the men crept back and surrounded me. As quiet as shadows they moved. I never heard the command but as one they stabbed me with their stone tipped wooden spears.
I roared and flailed about but there were too many, while some held me impaled to the sand others stabbed at me over and over again.
It was a horrid thing to loose my strength but still to see as they hewed my limbs from me. They threw me into a pit with the offal and waste of the camp, pinning the parts of my body to the ground with wooden stakes and then shoveled sand over me.
I watched it all, and I screamed in horror and torment, morning that I could not die.
If I ever met that smiling ghoul again I would kill him a thousand times and still not feel avenged for the awful thing he had done to me.
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