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Horror From The Stars
by Ian Macmillan

(Part 2)

Editor’s note: Continued from the June 2005 issue.
Please see http://vcmagazine.net/Vol36/story.html for Part 1

VI. The Bloodbath

And we knew where to go, the miserable woods, where the green soul hath called my friend and me. We made splendid haste, for it was midnight when we reached the opening. The green light grew strong, hazy and all, with blazing hot fire that scorched my fleshy tissue. And when the path grew broad, and the clearing was here, we both saw the evil spirit, and my comrade in his clutches. The beast, as he saw us, tossed Eric's carcass, and it bounced off the earth, his body limp as the lifeless. The wretched thing growled another unearthly yowl that was extreme as it was putrid. It spat out dark green ooze, the viscous and toxic material that dripped from its abyssal maw. We both stood and gazed in fear and trepidation at this abomination of nature and mockery of life. It looked nothing like a man, or any earthly being, and if I were to see it again I would have to pluck out my eyes from madness. Just thinking of it brings me to the brink of utter lunacy. Without even thinking, I fire away, releasing two of my pistol slugs into the mockery. It again howls with misery, and it makes a swing for my torso. I bound backwards, and Dr. Morbian makes a lunge at the thing with his hypodermic. He misses, and the syringe shatters on the earth. I duck another one of the monster's blows, and scarcely at that. Then he makes a swipe for Morbian. He utters a cry, and blood did rupture forth from his veins, showering me in its crimson syrup. He grabs my hand and with his last breath he uttered the word, "fire". He leaves me a bullet, silver and pure, alive with the overwhelming aura of the needle. I dive under the fiend, and load my new round, and I use all my strength to let go of them all. I fire four times, and then stop, the beast hunching over me, growling, spitting, and covered in blood.

I mutter revenge for my best of friends, and let the bullet go, that flew through the night, through the gloomy and depraved ooze spewing cretin, that was summoned from the blackest stars, with malevolent and wicked objectives, that only aliens can create. The demon screaming the most unholiest shriek, that again dangled my reason on a thread. It blew apart into many pieces, more that a billion and one, that splashed me with black chunks of flesh and blood, and the evil green slime. After some time, that took me to reach back to my senses and sanity. I check on the body of my unlucky friend, he has no pulse and sadly he is dead, which forced me to shed many a tear. And so is the doctor, but that I did not doubt. I wish I had some way better to change the outcome. But the demon is gone, and I am alive, for if I was not I would not have be able to write this tale. But the oddest thing of them all, was when I went back to my home, and there on the kitchen table, sat the alien tablet, adorned by the idol. And for everyday that I live, I must look behind my shoulder, for when I am alone in the darkness, I hear that rustling of the grass, and that sometimes I glimpse the faintest of lights, that jade creepy light that brought much demise.

©2005 Ian James MacMillan

For Questions, please contact the VC Magazine Staff at VCMagazine_Staff@yahoogroups.com

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