Beloni and the Eyestalk

A zombie version of Jack and the Beanstalk

I

n a village where the old never died and the young never grew, there lived a small zombie named Beloni. Frozen in time and forever cursed to be mangled and decayed, he took refuge with his widowed mother in an abandoned shack. The two, taunted and teased by the locals, were always faced with overwhelming despair and a sense of never ending humiliation.

“Why must they do that to us mother?” Beloni cried, tears running down his peeled flesh. “What have we ever done to them?”

 Ms. Bordeaux took her sons hand in her own, her eyes a pool of swimming sorrow. “Beloni, we have done nothing to those people. They only prey upon us because we are less fortunate than them, and they take that as an automatic opportunity to lash at us with unkind words, and shatter our souls with their lack of consideration.”

            Beloni ripped his hand out of his mothers.  “Well I’m through.  I will no longer take this! We do not deserve to be in this state of poverty and I will be the one to make sure we get out of it,” he declared.

            “Beloni,” she said and pursed her lips. “You cannot even begin to understand how hard it is to find and get money. For the past five years I have done nothing but search and scavenge, asking everybody I pass for spare change, yet every day coming home empty handed.”

            “But mother I have a way!” Beloni shouted, flopping his arms in a crazed frenzy.

             Her gaze returned to Beloni, his scarred face illuminated with glee. “Really?” she asked with surprise as he ran to the corner of the shack, the shadows engulfing him in their darkness. “Beloni what are you doing?”  He emerged from the shadows, a hairy bundle coddled within his arms.

            “Here,” he said and shoved the item towards her. She looked at him with question, her thick eyebrows furrowing. “Ortega? But he is just a cat, how can he ever help us?” she asked and stroked the dead cats bloodied mane, his single eye staring up at her with loving passion.

            “The butcher is in need of cat brains. They have become a rarity and I am sure he will pay us deeply for Ortega.” Sorrow filled Ms. Bordeaux’s face, her matted hair lying in limp heaps across her spotted forehead.

            “Ortega has been in our family for centuries.” She looked down at Ortega and shook her head, his striped chest heaving with each shallow breath he took. “But I suppose if it’s the only way then it must be done.” She handed him back to Beloni, her clouded eyes filling with tears.

            She waved him off with an impatient swipe of the hand. “Go my child, do what you must.” Beloni hesitantly stepped away from his mother, watching the streams of water flow down her bruised cheeks. It’s only a cat. He thought morbidly and left his mother to sulk in her gloom.

            “Time for a field trip Ortega.” Beloni said gravely, and clutched the decayed cat closer to his chest, its head resting against his bloodless heart. “Mommy wants us to get a little fresh air.” The wind blew against them, the smoke of the butcher’s shop puffing above the thick dense of trees. “We’re almost there. . .” Ortega slashed at Beloni’s blackened arm in a rage of unsuspected fury. His claws ripped through the skin like butter, the open wounds exposing dried meat and empty veins. “Stop that right now!” he roared and shook the cat, its tongue lolling grotesquely inside its open mouth.  Ortega hissed, showing the inside of his rotted mouth and the nest of beetles residing in the back of his throat. “Stupid cat,” he muttered and followed the stone steps up to the butcher’s shop.

            Rap Rap. Beloni cautiously knocked on the door, his eyes uneasily fixed upon the carcasses and intestines hanging behind the shops large window. “Beloni my boy,” boomed a deep voice, which aroused the nearby crows and made Beloni jump back in fright. He looked upon the rather large zombie, the back of his head missing from the blast of a shotgun, leaving his brains to ooze and cake along his neck. “What can I do for you?”

            “Well sir,” he shifted uncomfortably. “I have brought you something.” The butcher’s eyes fell upon the cat in Beloni’s arms. “But I am not giving it to you for free.”

            “A cat!” He gasped, his remaining tuffs of hair flowing in the wind. “Where did you get it, do you know how rare they are?” He rubbed his giant hands together, the ridges of calluses upon his palms breaking apart, but no blood escaping. “You must come in! It is cold outside and I believe an offering is to be made!” Beloni entered the shop, brilliant light cascading from a glass orb, which illuminated the blades and axes resting upon the wall. “Come and sit,” said the butcher with peaking excitement as he grabbed two mugs from the nearby counter and filled them to the brim with apple cider. “I only use the apple cider on special occasions, “he said cheerily and tilted the mug towards Beloni, handing him one before he sat down.

            After a pause of long silence and a muster of courage, Beloni finally spoke. “Sir my mother and I are in times of deep desperation, and if you wish to have my cat you will give me no less than five golden coins.”

            “Five golden coins?” He repeated. “I’m sorry son, but I’m afraid I cannot give you that. For I was hoping you would take something of much more value.”

            “I’m sorry sir. . .” The butcher stopped him and reached under the table,  pulling out a silk change sack. “I thought you said you would not be paying me in golden coins?” Beloni inquired, raising his eyebrow.

            “This is not what you think.” A mischievous grin ripped across his face as he moved towards Beloni and opened the sack.

            “Oh my,” Beloni gasped, gazing upon the foreign green light that was emitting from the open sack. He reached towards the light, his hand shaking with anticipation.

            “CAREFUL!” The butcher yelled. “What lies within the sack is to be handled with the uttermost care.” He plucked a tiny item from within the sack, gingerly holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “Here,” the butcher rejoiced and placed the item into Beloni’s palm.

“It is an eye,” he said with surprise and a hint of disappointment. “An eye is better than five golden coins?”  Anger was starting to rise within his throat as he watched the sphere, its emerald cornea staring at him innocently. “What am I even supposed to do with it? No shopkeeper will take this as a form of payment,” he said bitterly and placed the eye back from where it had come.

            “You plant it,” the butcher lilted and took a sip of his apple cider. “Before the moon rises to its highest point, you must plant the eyes and water it with the milk of the cow, and then you wait. What appears is for you to find out, for I will not go into the details.”

 Mother must want me home soon. Beloni thought hesitantly as the clock struck six. “Will whatever grows from the planted eyes make my mother richer?” He cocked his head, the visible muscles and tendons stretching as he did so. The butcher placed the sack in Beloni’s cold, dead hands.

“Yes my boy, more than you could ever imagine,” he held Beloni’s hands in his own, creating an enclosure for the small sack. “Do you accept my offer?”

The lids of Beloni’s eyes closed, his hands grazing lithely above Ortega, who had been resting upon his lap during the conversation. “Well. . .” he paused and looked thoughtfully at the sleeping cat, and then at the deep gashes on his arms. “I accept.”

“Splendid,” the butcher cried in happiness and clasped him on the back. “Now so sorry to be rude, but I have some things I need to take care of, and I would like you to be gone while I am doing them.” he plucked Beloni off his wooden chair, Ortega falling to the ground with a plop, and escorted him to the door. “Tell your mother I said hello.”

“But sir. . .” The door slammed and Beloni was left alone in the bitter cold. What have I done? It was a hoax, all the butcher cared about was the stupid cat. I bet the eyes do absolutely nothing. He kicked the leaf-strewn ground, his lips pulled into a grimace.          Howls of merriment erupted from within the small shop, Ortega howling and screeching in misery as he came to his ultimate death. Poor cat. Beloni thought without much interest and began the short walk home.

            “Mother I’m home and I have sold Ortega.” He walked inside the shack, the eyes stowed safely inside his vest. “Mother?” A blast of lightning lit up the minute space, a hunched figure residing in the corner. “Mother is that you?” His voice was lined with fear. “I-I’ve sold Ortega.”

            The figure turned its head, red embers glowing from within the cloaks hood. “Don’t worry Beloni, it is me,” said the figure. “Bring me our riches,” Beloni stood still, his body paralyzed and his lower lip quivering.

            “You are not my mother.” He stepped back, the figure steadily rising to its true height.

            “Of course I am silly, now come and give your mother a hug and show me what you have brought home.” The figure lurched forward, its ancient bones creaking under the silken fabric.

Beloni cringed in fright, shielding his face with shaking hands. “W-w-where’s my mother?” The figure was feet away, holding out its wart-infested hand. Beloni began to whimper, as the intruder filled the space between them, its hand caressing Beloni’s face and digging its into his delicate flesh.

            “Plant the eyes Beloni,” It whispered, its breath stale and putrid like manure. “The butcher told me all about you. My friends would all like to see you, they have already become quite attached to your mother,” It chuckled and pushed Beloni to the ground. “I hope to see you soon.” With a clap of thunder and a rush of the wind, the figure disappeared into the cool night air. It has my mother. He thought with horror. I have to save her. He jumped to his feet, grabbed the sack from within his vest, and rushed outside.

            Bullets of the skies clear liquid ran down Beloni’s dead skin, boughs of lightning illuminating the clouded sky as he began to dig. “I will find you mother,” he grunted, his pale fingers plowing through the mud, and rain flowing through his open lips. “I promise.”

            With a hole finally big enough to store the eyes, he opened the sack and dumped the small treasures into their new home, stepping back to admire his work. Now all it needs is to be soaked by the milk of a cow. With one quick glance towards the open fields, he wiped his hands against his torn pants and dashed into the depths of his shack.

            “Here we are,” he said quietly and pulled the cork off the bottle. “Whatever these eyes do it better happen soon.” With a splash, the milk hit the ground, splattering the surrounding weeds and bushes. Now we wait. Beloni threw the bottle to the nearby grass and let out a deep sigh.  My poor fingers. He thought sadly and held his hands to the light of the moon, the tips of his fingers a jumble of shredded skin. 

            “Almost there,” He whispered and looked towards the white sphere, its giant craters noticeable from miles below. “I guess I better get some rest, who knows what difficult tasks will await me tomorrow.” Turning his back to the newly covered hole, he trudged back to the shack.

            Awoken by the suns brilliant rays, Beloni rose groggily from his bundle of sheets. “Uhahhh,” he yawned and snapped his jaws together. “Let’s see what magic, if any, those eyes were able to produce.”

            The day was warm and sunny, the grass slick with mud and littered with shallow puddles.  Yet towering high above the shack and the land around it, stood a sight that none had ever seen before.

            Beloni exited the shack, oblivious to the sight before him. Searching the land, his eyes enlarged to the size of saucers as his gaze focused on the monstrosity before him.

            Ten times taller than the tallest tree and skinnier than the slimmest lamppost, a stalk of multi colored eyes stared at Beloni with mild interest. “Oh my dear llama,” he gasped. “It stretches on for forever and all eternity.” He tugged at the collar of his vest, the eyes battering their eyelids as he walked even nearer to them. Stumbling over his feet, his outstretched arms grasped the stalk.

            “Climb us,” called a voice from within the stalk. “We don’t mind.” Birds chirped rapidly in the distance, the voice seeming to sigh with the wind. Beloni ran his hand off the stalk, goo clinging to his hand in clumps.

            “Will you take me to my mother?” he asked, his voice breaking.

            “Of course, though the way up is the only way to go. Your mother is dying to see you, she’s all alone and in desperate need of your company.” Beloni scanned the tops of the nearby mountains, hoping desperately to see their white peaks again.

            “Fine, I will climb you, but if my mother is not up there I shall chop you into tiny little pieces and feed you to the rats,” he gripped the stalk and jolted himself upwards, digging his toes into the crevasses between the eyes.

            “There we go, what a good little zombie you are, master will be quite joyous to have you upon his wondrous land.” The ghost of Beloni’s heart thudded fiercely in his empty veins, his leather like tongue poking through his blue lips. Master?

            “Do you speak of the thing that broke into my house, stole my mother and then pretended to be her?”Beloni growled, halting his progress.

            “Yes! That is indeed our master, and we love him ever so much!” The voice sang, its eyes rolling in approval.

            “Humph,” he grunted and continued to climb, his fear level rising and adrenaline surfing through his body. I am quite high. He thought uneasily, forgetting all about the cloaked master and fixing his gaze upon the golden baked fields, and thickets of dead trees lining the grounds. Though I suspect our climb will not go on for much longer. Looking above him, rolls of gray fluff hovered in its many miles of bulk, the gentle breeze moving the cloud at the pace of an aged turtle.

            After an hour of treacherous climbing, Beloni had climbed the last of the eyes and reached the damp ground that he hoped desperately held his mother. “Finally,” he exclaimed, rubbing his tender muscles.

            “Goodbye new friend,” the stalk sang eerily. “Come back any time.”

            Night had come early to the unknown, its deserted building covered with a sheet of darkness. “What fun this will be,” Beloni said under his breath and began to walk towards the town, his feet sinking into the soft ground. Dim lights flickered in the desolate streets, boarded up houses beckoning to be open and filled with merry company. Beloni licked his lips, dry flakes clinging to his tongue. “This doesn’t seem right.” Fog began to roll out from the streets, engulfing everything in their gloom. Something flickered in the glare of the moon. “What was that?” Beloni asked cautiously, his stomach rolling in his skinny torso.

            “I see you planted the eyes,” crooned a voice as cold as death. “I am so very glad that you did.” The voice rose into high-pitched bays of laughter. Beloni turned around suddenly, the cloaked menace grinning before him.

            “Y-y-you,” stuttered Beloni. “You have my mother.” The wind picked up from its gentle breeze, the cloud moving much faster than it had before.

            “I believe a proper introduction is in order. I know your name, yet you do not know mine.” Its grin widened, spreading to its crimson eyes.

            “Where is my mother?” Beloni questioned, regaining his confidence.

            “Now, now, we will soon get to that, but for now I must tell you who I am,” It paused. “I am Malachi, the ruler of this land and the bringer of all things evil and un-holy. I am the cause of storms, the reason for murder and the master of torture.”

            “It is an honor to be in the presence of such a powerful being, but I am afraid I did not come here to make your acquaintance. I came here for my mother.” Clenching his fists, he walked towards the cloaked obscenity. “Can I please have her back?”

            Still grinning his evil grin, Malachi stepped to the side and bided him to come with his long skeletal finger. “Come and I shall show you where your mother resides.” 

            “How do I know that you will take me to my mother?”

Malachi reached out his hand, Beloni’s insides swimming with uncertainty. “You are just going to have to trust me.” Clenching Beloni’s shoulder with bone crushing force he ushered the zombie forward and followed in his suit. “Trust is the foundation to a long lasting friendship.” With a shudder Beloni walked, Malachi grasping his shoulder even tighter, making his collarbone groan in protest. “And if you can’t trust me, then there’s no hope in us ever becoming friends,” he said and cupped Beloni’s colorless face, his eyes shining furiously in their sockets.  “And since we will soon become the best of friends it is your duty to follow me.”

            Walking down the deserted street, the two walked in complete silence. “How much farther, my legs are aching,” Beloni groaned and looked up towards the star lit sky.

            “Quit your complaining, I can put you through much worse if you would like,” Malachi spat and dug his sharpened nails deep into Beloni’s flesh.  Wincing with pain he shut his mouth and talked no more.

            “This is it,” Malachi said.

            Shocked, Beloni gasped in amazement. “It is the  biggest shack I have ever seen. . .” Crafted the most skilled of hands a manor of marble lay amongst broad oaks. Gleaming light shone from hundreds of oval windows and a porch of constructed steel lay before high-rising arched doors. “Can I touch it? If I do I can rub it in the face of all those awful villagers. For I suppose they have never touched anything as brilliant as this.”

            Rolling his eyes in annoyance Malachi took his hand off Beloni’s shoulder and placed it around his wrist. “My legs are growing weak and my tongue is dry due to your endless talking, so let us carry on,” Still gawking in awe, Beloni and Malachi trudded up the stone steps to the porch of steel.

            Swirls of unwelcome wind blew against Beloni as he stepped upon the porch, howls of unknown creatures piercing the silence. How odd, it was as if the wind came on cue. Beloni thought with creeping dread, his flesh erupting with small bumps as Malachi spoke in a language unfamiliar with his own.

            “Aprire la Porta.” A click sounded from somewhere in front of Beloni, light flooding on to him as the arched doors flung open. Relief spread across Beloni’s face, the cold air devoured by the warmness of the manor.  Malachi released  Beloni from his grasp and stepped into the building, halting him before he could go any farther. “This is my home, my lair and my arsenal. If you touch, break or distrurb anything within it, I am afraid I will have to kill you.” With a flash of black fabric Malachi dissapeared, leaving Beloni alone in a manor a thousand times bigger than his shack.

            Spinning in wonder and feeling the slick marble floor under his bare feet, Beloni felt a happiness that he had only possessed in his wildest dreams. What if this was all mine? What if I never had to return to my shack and those awful villagers. How grand my life would be! His eyes roamed over the golden walls, art of all shapes and colors plastered perfectly in every corner. A winding staircase lead up to levels of unknown possibilites and a fountain of a chisiled llama was nestled snuggly near a roaring fireplace. Bubbling with laughter he forgot everything, only the ability to cherish and graze upon the beauty before him. “Magnificent, absolutely magnificent.” Running his hands through his dry, damaged hair, he turned around and was suddenly jolted back to reality.

            “I see you like it,” Beamed Malachi, his serrated teeth glistening like pearls under the light of his crystal chandelier.  “Everyone always does.” He took took a nip of the liquid that rested in the grasp of his firm hand and continued to speak. “I know how much you want it. It gleams in your eyes like the rays of a thousand suns, but never in a million years will you be able to have it.”  Setting his glass on the nearby table he reached into his cloak.

            Shame crossed Beloni’s face, his gaze narrowed upon the fountain and its rushing waters. What a fool I was to even think this could be mine.

“Come now, forget your sorrow and let me take you to your mother, for we shan't keep her any longer.” He held in his hand a rope, worn  with age and use. “I would allow you to follow, but alas I cannot trust you.”

The rope bounded Beloni with breath taking force, the pressure making him scream in surprise and eyes bulge in there sockets. Malachi let out a booming laugh, the noise sinking deep into the marrow of Beloni’s bones. “Now we may continue.” With a snap of his fingers the bounded Beloni hovered inches above the polished ground. “Maybe now you will finally shut up.” Slicing his fingernails down the side of Beloni’s face he cackled with glee. “How much enjoyment this provides me. With your immobility I can do practically anything I want with you.” Smiling , he watched the flesh peel open like the flap of a book.

“Stop please. . “ Beloni muttered, his voice as soft as flapping wings. “Though I feel no pain, my face will forever remain the same,” he said with thin breaths.

“Well that’s the point now isn’t it? I like to leave my mark amongst my victims.” Running the length of his hand along the severed wound, he rejoiced the chill that ran through his covered body.

“HELP!” Cried a voice from somewhere near. “Anybody!” Malachi froze with shock, his back becoming rigid and hunched as his hands formed into talons of fury. “Beloni, mommy needs you!” Ms. Bordeaux’s wails turned into sobs of grief, her fists banging against whatever enclosed her.

Beloni’s eyes opened partially, searching for the sound of disturbance, before closing once again. “That drasted lady! I told her to be quiet until I got back!” Growling low and deep he ran head first into the nearby wall. Splintering into millions of tiny shards, a hole of uneven proportion appeared.

Bits of plaster rocketed towards Beloni, bouncing off the rope and clunking to the ground. Yet shooting from the fog of new born debris a piece of wood, no larger than a pencil, yet sharper than the sharpest knife slashed the rope and set Beloni free.  Gasping for air, his eyes snapped open, his hands jumping up towards his heart. “I’m free!” he choked. “But where is Malachi?”

“Right here,” Malachi answered before going in to a fit of brutal coughing. “And I have have brought someone for you.” The fog began to clear, the hole coming into focus and Malachi standing under its opening with a large, whimpering bundle in his arms.

“M-m-mother?” Beloni asked with weak knees. “Mother it’s you.” He collapsed to the floor, salty tears running through his ragged fingers. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought you might have been d-dead,” Beloni sobbed, wiping the wet capsules off his damaged cheeks.

“Beloni? My son! Let go of me, let go!” Ms. Bordeaux kicked and flailed in Malachi’s strong arms. “Give me to my son, you wretched monster!” she screamed.

Pulling her over his head Malachi threw her across the wall with as much strength as he could muster. “Annoying fool,” Malachi sneered, watching the horror unfold upon poor Beloni’s face.

Ms. Bordeaux’s back broke with a sickening crack as she slammed against the hall’s wall. Making the ceiling tremble and the ground shake, she slumped to the ground with as much life as that of a wet rag.

Digging his fingers into the sockets of his eyes Beloni groaned in terror. Oh no, I’ve lost my mother. Rocking in small circles his mouth hung slack as the trauma of the past event replayed in his head over and over again. Staring blindly at the figure in front of him he mindlessly began to pluck the flesh off his bloated foot. Gone,gone, gone.

“Beloni?” a sweet voice said hesitaintly. “Can you here me? It’s your mother.” Snapping out of his dazed state the words sunk deep into his brain.

“Mother! Your not dead!” he cried in relief, jolting to his feet and wrapping his arms around his revived mother. “I thought for certain you were gone for good. Well as dead as a zombie can possibly be,” he chuckled and breathed in deep breaths of his mothers scent. “Can we go home now mother? I would very much like that. . .”  His mothers petite figure suddenly turned into something masculine and scortchingly hot.

“I thought you liked it here?” Malachi inquired. “Am I not a good host?” Repulsed, Beloni leapt off Malach, his heart sinking to his stomach as he relized that his mother was dead and never able to return. “So sorry about your mother. I truly am. It’s just, some people get on my last nerve and your mother was one of them,” he laughed his malicous laugh and inter locked his hands. “To bad she was already a zombie, she might have had the chance to come back, but alas her second chance had already been given, and I ruined it for her.” Beloni’s face turned into a contorted mask of revulsion. “You’ll thank me later. She was a real nag. Always telling me how cruel and dastardly I was. I think it was meant to hurt,but ufortunately for her, I took them as compliments.”

“How could you,” Beloni thundered. “She was my mother and you killed her.”

“I did kill your mother and I enjoyed the whole process.”

“You sick, twisted. . . Thing!”he shouted, tears of fury traveling the trails that so many had traveled before.

“There is no need to call names Beloni, it will fix nothing. Your mother is dead and there is nothing you can do about it,” Dusting the remaining debris off his cloak he turned and began to walk away.

“I might not be able to bring my mother back, but I can certaintly do something about it.” Beloni whispered, bending down and picking up the wooden shard that had set him free of his roped enclosure.

“I would make myself comfortable if I were you, you’re going to be here for a while.” Kicking Ms. Bordeaux’s body as he passed he turned the corner with a swipe of his cloak.

Stepping over the rubble and glancing at his mother with unbearable sadness, Beloni inaudibly followed Malachi, the wooden shard still clutched in his fist. I have to do something. I will not rest peacefully until the murderer of my mother is rotting in his grave. Overwhelmed with rage Beloni turned the corner and quickened his pace as Malachi came into view. Malachi will pay, he will die and I will make sure of it. 

Surging up all of his courage he flexed the torn muscles of his thighs and sprinted towards Malachi, the wooden spear held high above his shoulder and pointed towards the ground. Feet away he poised to strike, jumping up and etching a scorn of rage across his face.

“I wouldn’t have done that if I were you.” Malachi declared, stopping in his tracks and turning around suddenly.

“No. . .”Beloni wailed as Malachi retrived the wooden weapon inches before it hit his chest.

“You brainless twit. Did you actually think I’m that stupid?” he questioned, breaking the shard between his thumb and forefinger. “Did you not think I would know that you were plotting something to try and make me pay for what I had done to your mother?”

“I-I’m sorry. I d-don’t know what came over me,” Scolding himself for his useless actions, he hoped desperately that Malachi would forgive him.

“It doesn’t matter, soon you will be just like your mother.” He grabbed Beloni’s hand, yanking him until his hand broke free from his wrist, flopping like taffy in its un-joined state. “I’ll do the other one if you don’t follow.”

Beloni pinched the flesh between the two bones, wishing desperately that he could feel the pain, feel alive and not like a lifeless heap of decayed flesh. My mother will not have died for a son that is as worthless as me. I will escape this horrid creature and live the life that we had always wanted to have. “I will not go with you,” Beloni said with dignity. “You are not my master.”

Malachi cocked his head, a queer grin emerging from the black depths of his cloak. “Stubborn and stupid. Two qualities that are very bad to have.”

“I may be stubborn but I am not stupid.” Raising his leg he struck Malachi, his calf hitting what he hoped was his stomach. Not looking to see whether he had caused Malachi any real pain he dashed off without a backwards glance.  I have to escape, but where is the door?  Barreling through Malachi’s manor of torture and never ending hall’s, Beloni desperately tried to remember the path in which he had came from, though being unconscious most of the way did not help.

“You can’t run from me.”Malachi’s voice pierced Beloni’s ears in his state of anxiety. Where is he? Cautiously looking behind him, he regretted what he saw. Billows of thick red smoke rose from the sides of his cloak, his eyes the color of blood and teeth jagged and dripping with a wet substance. “So sad that someone else must die today.” Releasing all his power into his legs he ran with a speed unlike any he had ever known. Rounding the final corner he entered the entry room, the door of escape feet away. I can do this. He thought with triumph, the walls and décor passing him in a blur.

Slamming against the door he took the golden knob in his hand, relief spreading throughout his body. “So close,” he whispered, Malachi’s haggard breathing seconds behind him. I can’t stop now. Swinging the door open he ran outside. Turning his head from side to side he ran in the direction of the rising sun. Its amber hue strikingly beautiful against the town’s luminous gloom.

            “Back so soon? Did you not like our master?” asked the eerie voice of the stalk. Beloni took no notice, only focusing on that task that lay ahead. I have to get down this thing, and quick. Malachi is ganing. Sliding off the cloud Beloni clung to the stalk, the eyes moving under his touch. His hands and feet working furiously he descended the stalk.

            “How dare you run from me!”High above Beloni, Malachi’s voice echoed throughout the land.

            “Master its you!” the eyes said cheerfully, shaking with happiness.

            “Oh no.” The unsuspected movement caused Beloni to fall, his arms and legs rubbing against the slimy whites of the eyes.

            “Don’t  worry little friend, you are safe with us. We are your protector.” Angled in a straight line, Beloni was caught and he slide safely to the ground below.

            “Drasted!” Beloni heard Malachi yell from above. The outline of his body just beginning to climb down the stalk.  I have to hurry. If the stalk decides to help him then I will be a goner for sure. Looking for a tool of usefulness, Beloni searched through the tall seas of grass. Nothing. His brain sighed and his shoulders slumped in defeat. But wait! A beam of blinding light gleamed in the forest of grass. He pickied up the unknown treasure, and jumped in delight. “Luck is on my side.”

            With two long powerful strides, the axe chopped through the stalk with brisk dexterity. Tumbling to the ground, the stalk cursed his name and crashed to the Earth with a puff of dead grass.  The screams of Malachi cut off abruptly as the hit the ground with tremendous force. “I won, I’m not going to die!” Raising his hands towards the heavens he spoke with soft tones. “My mothers death has been avenged and I am truly thankful for that.”  Walking silently towards the deceased Malachi, he grieved for the stalk, but shed no tears. “It is shame you died today, but with your death came the end to a creature of great power and no well being. And without you, that could have never happened.” Patting the stalk with gentle care he made his way to Malachi.

            “You, I grieve no sorrow. Men will praise me amoungst all others. For I take the credit of your death.  An awful end always comes to the worst of us and you deserved what came to you.” Kicking dirt into the face that had never been seen, Beloni returned to his shack and began the life that him and his mother had always wanted.

            Two days after Ms. Bordeaux’s death, Beloni recovered her body and brought her back  to the grave in which she had begun her new life from. Holding a funeral of only him and the butcher, he covered her coffin and imbedded it with roses. Leaving Malachi’s body to rot and fester he took the responsibility of keeping the home which Malachi said he would never have. Never again  teased by the villagers and bothered by no one, Beloni continued his life sitting amongst pounds of coins and fridges of brains, living his happily ever after.

The End

Author's Note

Please review!!! I need all the help I can get!!! :)

Reviews

[miguelbovine]

I dont think I'm good enough to reveiw your story .I thought it was pretty dam good