Chapter 1: PlythemusA Chapter by KalrachRoy survives his own execution and evades death, but for how long?The attempt the denizens of this
accursed world made on his life has left Roy with a fleshly opening to his
side. If he hadn’t have flinched at the right moment, the execution would have
been just as successful with him as it was with Justin. If his shipmate hadn’t
have screamed when the spear skewered him, then Roy wouldn’t have flinched and
the two seamen would have shared the same fate.
However the spear’s thrust into
his stomach may not have been instantly fatal to him as it was with Justin,
Roy’s late shipmate, the shock, however, left him unconscious long enough to
bleed out significantly, but despite the obvious set back of being rendered
nearly comatose, his unconscious state fooled the executioners into believing
that he was truly dead.
Upon awaking, the immediate
explosion of agony raging from his wounded side overwhelmed Roy to the point of
near immobility, and the sorrow of seeing the carcass of his friend lying next
to him brought him to vomit.
He was in a ditch, which would
have served to become his grave if the execution were to have been a success.
Climbing out of it wounded as he was proved to be challenge, and when he was
finally above ground, Roy found himself to be in living nightmare of a world;
very different from the world he was use to.
The first thing to catch his eye
was the ominous red sky above him, both cloudless and sunless; it gave off
light as if it were its own source of illuminating the world. It was an empty
red void, which enticed only madness. The earth was composed of an ashy, cursed
soil, which sprouted a cloud of dust for every step he took. The lay of the
land was that of a mountainous nature but the execrable earth made the
elevations look more like craggy piles of stony dust rather than highlands.
This wasteland held no living
vegetation as far as Roy could tell, however he found himself surrounded by a
forest of tee like protrusions from the ground. Upon closer examination Roy
noticed that they may have been trees at one point of time, but now they were
petrified like fossils, leafless and dead. The mountainous wastes were
congested by these fossilized trees, sticking out of the ground like massive
thorns, their existence only served to vex Roy as they greatly obscured his
vision of what’s beyond.
Reviewing the landscape further,
Roy made the error of turning around, and he was faced with a sight, which he
will see in his sleep for all eternity. A massive monolith, rose from the
ground in the distance behind him, rising above the leafless canopy of this
calcified forest and the crescendo of mountain ranges like some kind of
overseer.
The unnatural rock was contoured
like a triangular tower, similar to an Egyptian obelisk with its nature being
black as onyx. It was unnatural, as horribly wrong as everything in this world
felt, from the red empty sky, and the dead stagnant lifelessness all around
him, nothing can measure against the oddness this obelisk implied, it was so
much more different, and so much more wicked.
Its presence was so horrifyingly
wrong, Roy dared not travel towards it as he felt it to be the dwelling place
of those shadowy ghouls that made an attempt on their lives.
Encountering the creatures of
this world was something he did not want to do again. The hellish denizens, Roy
gags to think of them again, could barely be described as living beings. His
memory of them was vague as he was induced into some kind of drugged lucid
state when they first stumbled upon this world. What he remembered of them was
vague, but loathsome.
Before he was seized and took to
be executed, Roy dimly remembered the account of his friends escaping. The
demons who held them captive rallied the crewmen on a death march to be
executed in the depths of these wastes when three of the crewmembers that were
captured fled to this forest after overpowering the creatures and dispersing
them with the aid of two pistols they had on their being.
If there were anyone alive from
his ship, Roy’s best bet at living would be to find them. There was little hope
in his mind that they would have assessed the situation any better than he had,
surviving his own execution with a near fatal wound, but in this time of
desperation the sailor felt that he must try every step conceivably logical.
Reviewing the land again, the sailor noted a
column of smoke rising from the near distance, further into wasteland. There
was no telling what or who the source could be, but Roy’s options were limited
to seeking it out or bleeding to death as he was.
With his decision made for him,
Roy forged toward the mysterious pillar of smoke under the unforgiving presence
of the maddening red sky. Negotiating through the wasteland was harder than he
perceived. The slightest bit of movement resulted in an explosion of aches due
to his injury, and the tremors filling his body made it clear to him that the
initial shock of this world has yet to subside, and judging by the afflictions
his wound insinuated he could conclude that he has yet to overcome the zenith
of his trauma.
As he trekked forward he found
that his conditioned worsened the further he went until he lacked the endurance
to continue any further. Staying idle only made his fear grow, but his body
refused to progress into the woods. Staggering just stand, Roy leaned his back
against the trunk a nearest tree to rest, not daring to lie down for the fear
of never getting back up again.
As the sailor rested he reflected
on his situation. His thoughts ran wild with different possibilities and
scenarios that may offer some kind of merciful explanation as to what was
happening to him. He thought that maybe this was all some kind of drug-induced
madness, or just some lucid nightmare, or whether or not his physical life
ended and he was in a netherworld as a spirit. The bleeding seemed physical
enough to disprove the last possibility. And there was this omnipresent feeling
that any other humble Merchant Marine’s officer would have not fared as well as
he did if in the same state, this wild speculation may be the result of the
trauma’s affect on his mental state but for some reason he was unable to shake
the feeling that somehow, some way, this was all designed for him to survive.
He dismissed the reflections as
something to be engrossed in latter. When he felt that he rested his fill, sailor
pushed off from the tree but was encountered with a hopeful sight. A footprint
matching the same state of his boot, the standard issue for the Merchant
Marines uniform, was embed into the ground before him along with several
others.
Judging by the broken bows, and
the trampled ground, the sailor concluded that a group of people must have
rushed through here. Giddy with hope, Roy investigated this section of the
forest further. The results left him more distraught than before.
Searching the track of
footprints, Roy came across the third carcass of one of his shipmates. It was
Mark, the masters. The sailor found him with his torso propped up against a
tree and a .38 caliber revolver in his hand while smoke billowing from his
mouth. Combined with the gory mixture of blood and brains splattered across the
trunk of the tree, the sailor could easily conclude what took place here. Mark
saw it fit to end this sequence of madness through a method of
self-annihilation, suicide.
Roy bit down on his lip to break
away from the tears. Now two were dead, and only him and two others were left.
Trembling to compose himself, he
took the revolver from his masters dead fingers and checked it for ammunition
revealing to more rounds in the drum. With the weapon in hand Roy forged
onwards towards the pillar of smoke as he so previously planed, but only the
journey now seemed more laborious than before, at least now he was armed.
Above him, the cruel sky sank to
an even crueler shade of darker crimson; the sailor could only guess that this
was signifying the coming of night in this world. The need to find shelter and
medical attention weighed on him more than before. There was little to no
possibility that he would enjoy the night any more than he has been enjoying
this day.
© 2012 KalrachAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorKalrachWinter Park, FLAboutI have a passion for writing, which I believe was God given at this point. Although poetry isn't my thing, I do prose a bit more, I can do some of that too when I feel like it. However I think my grea.. more..Writing
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