The Marionette
folder
Horror/Thriller › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
19
Views:
2,863
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Horror/Thriller › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
19
Views:
2,863
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
this is a work of fiction or poetry; that any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental; and that if you've borrowed from anyone, it is properly noted.
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
November 17, 1986, in an abandoned warehouse near highway 10 in Benton, Arkansas there are several people entering the area. The people were wearing red hooded garments. The warehouse boarded up with wood planks and filled with cobwebs was isolated from the city. The tin walls rusted and filled with holes, made its eerie creaks and moans, as the warehouse fills with the voices of strangers as they walk on the wooden planks.
The wood giving out as it creaks while they walk in one bye one. After the group enters the lifeless building, they approached a man in ceremonial attire.
The man wore a headdress of a cow skull with rubies located on each eyes. The headpiece had several markings in forms of tribal tattooing. The garment he was wearing was dark burgundy and with red trim. There are also the same incantations on the robe as on the headdress. You can barely make a face through the hood attire.
The man has a scar extending from his brow down to his cheek. His eye injured that made him blind, while having a long cone shaped beard that appeared from on cheek to the other.
As he stands in front of a table that is covered with a matte white cloth with something inside waiting to be revealed. Around the room was lightening candles paraded all around the room. There are seats some filled with people while the rest laid Barron.
Along the walls of the warehouse were symbols and pictures parading all around, covering every inch on the room. In addition, behind the table was an enormous statue of a well-built man with a head of a swine. As more contributors enter the dwelling, the Shaman begins to speak.
“All of you who have entered the domain of the blood god blessed in the showers of the sacrificed. Come all to seek guidance and you will follow along the path of his fury. May Erlik bring misery and torment on the non-believers.” Rise and fill his might as I reveal this vessel’s destiny.
As the words spoken, the people stand. They began to hum, a horrible and rancid hum. They place their hand upon hand in a form of prayer. Their eyes closed while they speak in chants. Each eye closed tight and hands coming closer to their faces.
The shaman walks behind the table. The table now moving in odd patterns as the sheet is pulling away from the table by his hands. Reveal that of a young man.
The shear terror in the feeble boy’s eyes clouds the blue tint of the iris. As the boy lies there in only red cloth pants, you see the malnourishment of the poor soul. His chest exposing each rib shows the lungs barely pushing the diaphragm up. Tears dried and collected dust on his face. His blonde hair turned dark brown from the living condition he was condemned to be. Never saying a word for they only drain him more to dust as he is barely even here.
The Shaman grabs the ceremonial sacrificial sword. The sword curved and the edge was sharp. The blade was no stranger for the stains of history run deep within the cracks and crevasses. He shows the sword and the chanting stop.
The people now raise their hands in the heavens as the Shaman recites appalling and indescribable prayer.
“My lord Erlik, god of death and evil I invoke you.
He raises the sword above the boy’s chest. He looks towards the roof of the storehouse and recites the words
“I give you this sacrifice to honor you, my lord and to bring for the pain of our enemies. Bring me pain and bring my death lord Erlik we beg of you”
While the chants were, being made, a man creeps to the back of the warehouse. He is an older man in his late 40s. Full gray hair that hides in his beige cowboy hat lies dreary as his scruffy beard that never grows an inch in length. He wore a white t-shirt under a blue jean jacket with a pair of Levi 501 as pants. In his left hand was a colt 43 revolver. The gun practically shines in the dark from the chrome plating. His eyes squint as his stares through a crack in the rear windowpane.
He sees the youngster captive, the same young man that was kidnapped two weeks ago. He was put on the case from the parents of the young child in danger of a wicked cult sacrificial puppet. He places the revolver through the wooded obstruction, aiming at the crazed sociopath. The other hand reaches for the radio.
He picks up the radio and quietly tells the others to storm in as soon as he fires the shot. He thinks during the confusion one of his men could grab the boy and escape unharmed. He takes a breath, calming the shaking hand as he counts to three. He fires the bullet enters through the back and exits out of the chest plate.
The others storm in, while the partisans, in confusion, run a muck gathering their weapons. Stray bullets fly through the air causing chaos in the room. The fire fight forced the man to to take cover underneath the window ledge. Two others run in through the back and was quickly gunned down by the deranged occultist. One other shoots from behind the corpses of his fellow fighters. His bullet made contact with one of them, hitting them in the head above the eyes.
One down eight more to go, the man thought as he enters the front door. He squeezes the trigger hitting three more. He runs to one other and kicks him as he tries to make it to the little boy\'s aid. Another shoots grazing his left shoulder tearing the jacket to reveal a blood soaked gash. In pain he reacted by holding his shoulder as he loses his grasp of his firearm. Another man comes at him with a bat. Instinct comes and he dodges as the bat cuts through the air. After the bat come fully around he punches the mad assailant in the lower back, bruising the kidneys as blood flies from his mouth. The man clutches his stomach and the gunslinger strikes with a right to the jaw knocking him out instantly.
He see one of his own men and yells
”save the boy, go now.”
With a nod, the man races towards the helpless child, but was stopped short by the blade of the shaman. The man stood there as the sword cuts through his stomach and out his back, just missing his spinal. He looks down in a surprise glance as the shaman pulls the swords out. An explosion blood spraying from the wound as the man when into shock. He holds his hands over his wound trying to keep from expiring. The shaman smiled as he swings the blade, hitting the neck. It splits open as the jugular gives out its fluid all over the shaman. Head was off centered and falling back until it completely came free from the body. As the head made its way towards the floor the body soon joined.
The estranged man, not turned towards the boy, prepared to finish the ritual. His arms pulled the blade back and starts chanting. The old man see the child is near end runs to the aid with his gun cocked and ready. He pulls the trigger releasing lead as it made its way towards the shaman, Two made contact, one to his arm and the other to the side of the blade. The bullet altered the path and it sliced through the chest just short of the heart. In agony he turns to the man and darts after him. The two meet as the gunslinger shoots again grazing his right cheek.
In a crazed state, the shaman grabbed the throat of the old man squeezing the life out of him. The gun fired and no shot was heard, he was out of bullets. More laughter filled the room as he started crushing his windpipe. Losing energy quick, the old man grabs his bowie from his back and swung it upwards, slicing through the shamans wrist. He pulls back unable to function. The man thrust his blade towards the shaman\'s chest and repeated until his upper torso was shredded.
The dying man gazed and with a slow start said
” He will be cursed as you will for eternity. I will see it so and it will be made. You are nothing and will perish in hell. With that he died.
It was not over yet, the fire was still untamed, engulfing the house and everything in it. He left the shaman\'s body on the floor lifeless and ran to the child. The child was unconscious, his body laid still. He was worried he\'d been too late. He collected the child and exited out of the building. The rest of the people were too busy trying to save themselves, they didn\'t pay any mind to the two leaving.
A half an hour passed and the authorities came. He raced to the ambulance and placed the boy with the paramedics. He looked at them and walked away. There were no other survivors from the raid on his side and the occultist ran for cover.
The boy was weary but alive. As the ambulance raced to the hospital he was not aware of his surroundings, He see the paramedics giving him shots and hooking up IVs. His vision starts to get blurry as he heard the sound of the siren.
Present day
A man wakes up every night with the same horrific nightmare, that makes him scream with fear. The man is the boy and he lives alone in a run down hotel room. The light dimming from the television left on, he looks around. He picks up a half used cigarette from the ash tray and began to smoke. He stands up and walks to the fridge and picks up a bottle of beer and sits in an old gray chair next to a window covered with blinds. He peeks outside, it is still dark and the neon signs showed bright through the streets of downtown Dallas.
The phone rings in the corner next to his bed. He walks to the area and picks up the phone. In a deep groggy voice he answers,
”hello.”
“Tobias, this is Bob, I need you to come down to the station we go a new case we need your help with,” explained on the end.
“I will be there as soon as I wake up. Can you get a couple of cups of coffee,” demanded Tobias.
“ will do Toby. Did you have them again?”
“Yeah every freaking night it seems.”
“OK well see you here then, and be careful man you don\'t need to do this alone.”
He hung the phone up and proceeded to the bathroom. Bob and Tobias have been friends since third grade after the adoption. He never knew his parents and Bob is the only family he has. Bob is a detective for Dallas branch FBI and Tobias is an occult expert and freelances for the feds. He looks at the mirror and he thinks who was the man who saved him and what cult tried to kill him.
November 17, 1986, in an abandoned warehouse near highway 10 in Benton, Arkansas there are several people entering the area. The people were wearing red hooded garments. The warehouse boarded up with wood planks and filled with cobwebs was isolated from the city. The tin walls rusted and filled with holes, made its eerie creaks and moans, as the warehouse fills with the voices of strangers as they walk on the wooden planks.
The wood giving out as it creaks while they walk in one bye one. After the group enters the lifeless building, they approached a man in ceremonial attire.
The man wore a headdress of a cow skull with rubies located on each eyes. The headpiece had several markings in forms of tribal tattooing. The garment he was wearing was dark burgundy and with red trim. There are also the same incantations on the robe as on the headdress. You can barely make a face through the hood attire.
The man has a scar extending from his brow down to his cheek. His eye injured that made him blind, while having a long cone shaped beard that appeared from on cheek to the other.
As he stands in front of a table that is covered with a matte white cloth with something inside waiting to be revealed. Around the room was lightening candles paraded all around the room. There are seats some filled with people while the rest laid Barron.
Along the walls of the warehouse were symbols and pictures parading all around, covering every inch on the room. In addition, behind the table was an enormous statue of a well-built man with a head of a swine. As more contributors enter the dwelling, the Shaman begins to speak.
“All of you who have entered the domain of the blood god blessed in the showers of the sacrificed. Come all to seek guidance and you will follow along the path of his fury. May Erlik bring misery and torment on the non-believers.” Rise and fill his might as I reveal this vessel’s destiny.
As the words spoken, the people stand. They began to hum, a horrible and rancid hum. They place their hand upon hand in a form of prayer. Their eyes closed while they speak in chants. Each eye closed tight and hands coming closer to their faces.
The shaman walks behind the table. The table now moving in odd patterns as the sheet is pulling away from the table by his hands. Reveal that of a young man.
The shear terror in the feeble boy’s eyes clouds the blue tint of the iris. As the boy lies there in only red cloth pants, you see the malnourishment of the poor soul. His chest exposing each rib shows the lungs barely pushing the diaphragm up. Tears dried and collected dust on his face. His blonde hair turned dark brown from the living condition he was condemned to be. Never saying a word for they only drain him more to dust as he is barely even here.
The Shaman grabs the ceremonial sacrificial sword. The sword curved and the edge was sharp. The blade was no stranger for the stains of history run deep within the cracks and crevasses. He shows the sword and the chanting stop.
The people now raise their hands in the heavens as the Shaman recites appalling and indescribable prayer.
“My lord Erlik, god of death and evil I invoke you.
He raises the sword above the boy’s chest. He looks towards the roof of the storehouse and recites the words
“I give you this sacrifice to honor you, my lord and to bring for the pain of our enemies. Bring me pain and bring my death lord Erlik we beg of you”
While the chants were, being made, a man creeps to the back of the warehouse. He is an older man in his late 40s. Full gray hair that hides in his beige cowboy hat lies dreary as his scruffy beard that never grows an inch in length. He wore a white t-shirt under a blue jean jacket with a pair of Levi 501 as pants. In his left hand was a colt 43 revolver. The gun practically shines in the dark from the chrome plating. His eyes squint as his stares through a crack in the rear windowpane.
He sees the youngster captive, the same young man that was kidnapped two weeks ago. He was put on the case from the parents of the young child in danger of a wicked cult sacrificial puppet. He places the revolver through the wooded obstruction, aiming at the crazed sociopath. The other hand reaches for the radio.
He picks up the radio and quietly tells the others to storm in as soon as he fires the shot. He thinks during the confusion one of his men could grab the boy and escape unharmed. He takes a breath, calming the shaking hand as he counts to three. He fires the bullet enters through the back and exits out of the chest plate.
The others storm in, while the partisans, in confusion, run a muck gathering their weapons. Stray bullets fly through the air causing chaos in the room. The fire fight forced the man to to take cover underneath the window ledge. Two others run in through the back and was quickly gunned down by the deranged occultist. One other shoots from behind the corpses of his fellow fighters. His bullet made contact with one of them, hitting them in the head above the eyes.
One down eight more to go, the man thought as he enters the front door. He squeezes the trigger hitting three more. He runs to one other and kicks him as he tries to make it to the little boy\'s aid. Another shoots grazing his left shoulder tearing the jacket to reveal a blood soaked gash. In pain he reacted by holding his shoulder as he loses his grasp of his firearm. Another man comes at him with a bat. Instinct comes and he dodges as the bat cuts through the air. After the bat come fully around he punches the mad assailant in the lower back, bruising the kidneys as blood flies from his mouth. The man clutches his stomach and the gunslinger strikes with a right to the jaw knocking him out instantly.
He see one of his own men and yells
”save the boy, go now.”
With a nod, the man races towards the helpless child, but was stopped short by the blade of the shaman. The man stood there as the sword cuts through his stomach and out his back, just missing his spinal. He looks down in a surprise glance as the shaman pulls the swords out. An explosion blood spraying from the wound as the man when into shock. He holds his hands over his wound trying to keep from expiring. The shaman smiled as he swings the blade, hitting the neck. It splits open as the jugular gives out its fluid all over the shaman. Head was off centered and falling back until it completely came free from the body. As the head made its way towards the floor the body soon joined.
The estranged man, not turned towards the boy, prepared to finish the ritual. His arms pulled the blade back and starts chanting. The old man see the child is near end runs to the aid with his gun cocked and ready. He pulls the trigger releasing lead as it made its way towards the shaman, Two made contact, one to his arm and the other to the side of the blade. The bullet altered the path and it sliced through the chest just short of the heart. In agony he turns to the man and darts after him. The two meet as the gunslinger shoots again grazing his right cheek.
In a crazed state, the shaman grabbed the throat of the old man squeezing the life out of him. The gun fired and no shot was heard, he was out of bullets. More laughter filled the room as he started crushing his windpipe. Losing energy quick, the old man grabs his bowie from his back and swung it upwards, slicing through the shamans wrist. He pulls back unable to function. The man thrust his blade towards the shaman\'s chest and repeated until his upper torso was shredded.
The dying man gazed and with a slow start said
” He will be cursed as you will for eternity. I will see it so and it will be made. You are nothing and will perish in hell. With that he died.
It was not over yet, the fire was still untamed, engulfing the house and everything in it. He left the shaman\'s body on the floor lifeless and ran to the child. The child was unconscious, his body laid still. He was worried he\'d been too late. He collected the child and exited out of the building. The rest of the people were too busy trying to save themselves, they didn\'t pay any mind to the two leaving.
A half an hour passed and the authorities came. He raced to the ambulance and placed the boy with the paramedics. He looked at them and walked away. There were no other survivors from the raid on his side and the occultist ran for cover.
The boy was weary but alive. As the ambulance raced to the hospital he was not aware of his surroundings, He see the paramedics giving him shots and hooking up IVs. His vision starts to get blurry as he heard the sound of the siren.
Present day
A man wakes up every night with the same horrific nightmare, that makes him scream with fear. The man is the boy and he lives alone in a run down hotel room. The light dimming from the television left on, he looks around. He picks up a half used cigarette from the ash tray and began to smoke. He stands up and walks to the fridge and picks up a bottle of beer and sits in an old gray chair next to a window covered with blinds. He peeks outside, it is still dark and the neon signs showed bright through the streets of downtown Dallas.
The phone rings in the corner next to his bed. He walks to the area and picks up the phone. In a deep groggy voice he answers,
”hello.”
“Tobias, this is Bob, I need you to come down to the station we go a new case we need your help with,” explained on the end.
“I will be there as soon as I wake up. Can you get a couple of cups of coffee,” demanded Tobias.
“ will do Toby. Did you have them again?”
“Yeah every freaking night it seems.”
“OK well see you here then, and be careful man you don\'t need to do this alone.”
He hung the phone up and proceeded to the bathroom. Bob and Tobias have been friends since third grade after the adoption. He never knew his parents and Bob is the only family he has. Bob is a detective for Dallas branch FBI and Tobias is an occult expert and freelances for the feds. He looks at the mirror and he thinks who was the man who saved him and what cult tried to kill him.