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The Eclectic Pen - Hunted (Part 3, very worth reading and better than my other ones)

By: Blake B. (Blakeish)   + 6 more  
Date Submitted: 2/15/2009
Genre: Horror » Vampires
Words: 1,236


Every single resident on Milford was dead. The demon had killed them all. The police needed to be involved now.
The scary part was that the demon killed so swiftly and efficiently. None of the neighbors even got to call the cops.
Now we would have to.
Well, John and the others would.
I was going after the spawn from hell. Alone.
I slipped away as the five other Hunters were conversing in the first house.
My Mazda tore up the road as I roared to the old church that the demon now resided.
“I'm coming for you, you sonuvabitch,” I whispered under my breath. There were children on that street, and I was going to get revenge for every one of them.
I parked a block away from the church and gathered all my weapons.
The two knives John had given my came with sheaths that could strap to a forearm each. The sword I would just have to carry.
I kept both of my guns with me.
I walked up the weather-worn steps of the monastery and opened the door, my 50 cal drawn. Nothing moved. Walking down over turned pews, I checked the rest of the sanctuary and the small rooms that jutted out in different places. The demon was nowhere to be found.
Wonderful. I would just sit here and wait for it to come back, then I'd ambush it.
I pulled my Bible out and laid it gently on the ground before me, and pulled out a vial of holy water. I gripped my cross around my neck so hard that my knuckles turned white.
This was by far the scariest job I'd ever had, so far. So far. I was still young, and there were plenty of scarier things out there than demons. Like the Grim Reaper. Yeah, he's real and at large. Some of the senior Hunters were hunting the bastard, but I didn't think they'd find him soon. Did you know the Zodiac killer and Jack the Ripper were both really the Grim Reaper? Ponder that for a while.
I settled against the wall in the darkest corner that I could find, and waited for death to show its face.


It showed up about thirty minutes later.
It came zooming through a shattered window with blurring speed. It slammed into a barely standing podium and stood erect.
Then it caught my scent.
It lifted its nose to the air like a dog and began walking forward, down the stage, following its nose. By now my sword was out of its sheath, and I gripped it tightly.
It was coming down the isle a little in front of me to my right.
When it was about to turn the corner, I launched myself into the air with everything I had.
It screeched in surprise.
I brought my sword down, letting my weight carry it down into the demon's shoulder.
It was already whirling, and I crashed into a wall.
I landed on my butt and got the wind knocked out of me. Its claws were about twice as long as my sword and double the width. It came at me with those claws now.
I dodged one of its blows by moving to the left, then rolled under its legs, coming into a crouch.
I kept going, pushing off the ground and into the air. The pews under me was sliced to smithereens. I spun around in the air and barely caught a blow to my flank with my sword. I hit the ground, then. Hard.
My vision darkened and my ears rang with the impact of my head hitting the carpeted, but still hard, floor.
I could here the thing coming at me.
I screamed and moved my outstretched legs upward, making a human L with my body.
Something thudded right below my butt. I rolled to my stomach and got to my feet, only to be hurled into the wall at my back. Luckily, it was only about a foot away, so it didn't hurt as badly. I opened my eyes and saw the thing standing there, holding me up against the wall with the back of its ugly hand. I couldn't move. I tried to flick the hand that was holding the sword up, but the thing used its other hand to slice through my gloves. I dropped the sword.
It seemed to realize something. It looked into my eyes and grinned. Something like terror only worse went through my entire body and I screamed.
It carefully lifted my hand and slipped its index claw inside, the back, smooth part sliding against the back of my hand, and the dangerous part clawing through the leather of my gloves.
I knew what is was doing. “Oh my...please, oh God, please. Please don't.” Tears were gushing down my cheeks. I whimpered, “I don't want to touch you.” I sounded like a five year old.
I flipped it hand around and began to slowly make our palms meet.
“No!” I cried and jerked my hand away. The hand that was holding my body above the ground went back and I crashed to the floor on legs that would no longer hold my wait. I went down. It sat me on my butt and retracted its claws on each hand.
Then, with one hand holding my right hand still, it made our hands touch.
My head reeled back against the wall with such force that it made a big dent. Then the visions came.
A guttural noise was coming from my throat, and I thought my vocal cords would break.
I saw—felt hell. I felt fire. I saw its victims last looks. I felt the pleasure it took in killing. I felt the pleasure it took when it raped them as it killed them. I felt its amusement as the families tried to run from it as it hunted them. I felt the pleasure it took in watching horrified mother's faces as it killed their children.
This all came to me in about three seconds, and I felt and saw them all at one time.
I became aware that I was repeatedly slamming my head into the wall behind me, sobbing for it all to stop.
“Stop! Oh, make it stop...aaahhhheee!!!” It ended in an animal like screech that filled the church.
Then it touched me again and I felt it all again.
With my free hand, I tried to claw my eyes out. But somehow the thing stopped me.
My back arched and I looked up to the ceiling of the church, not quite looking though. My tongue was sliced by my teeth. Blood poured from different places on my body. Probably old wounds that had healed long ago, being opened up again.
It released me completely and stepped back.
I fell to the ground in a pool of my own blood, sobbing, relieved that it was all over. I looked up and everything seemed so foggy. My neck cracked as I cringed. I cringed again. Then I began to shake uncontrollably. A seizure? Then it stopped.
I realized I was going totally and completely insane.
I shook on the ground, tears pouring from my face and my body. Blood mixed with sweat and my vomit as I hurled all contents of my stomach.
My eyes rolled up into my head and I fell unconscious. Perhaps forever. I hoped.

The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by Blake B. (Blakeish)

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Veronica S. (snowkitty) - , - 2/19/2009 1:40 PM ET
This is the only part I've read so far, I don't make it to this forum very often, but putting aside grammar and spelling problems, you do seem to have a knack for fiction writing. I liked it, and will go back to read the first two parts.
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