The Necropolis

Solace was right, the cemetery gates are big. Good thing Allan put a little knob to boost the power, whirling it to the max should do.

“God damn that’s Spicy.” I’m glad the blast drowns me out, I haven’t said that since I was a teen.

The Thief’s little men come out of every which direction, a pack of ten seem to have an interest in me. Still set to max, the effect of the gun is wonderfully devastating, I gouge a great fissure in the earth sending the little men and a few coffins into the air. I suspected the wide girth I was given was due to the fact that I would decapitate a motherfucker with the sultry sounds of Iron Maiden blasting at unholy levels, little did I know I was being stalked.

I get yanked back a couple a feet, spidery arms wrap around me. I can feel the sickly warm breath of my capture on my neck, and his half-chubby digging into my back. His fingers search for any facial orifice they can scratch the good hell out of. I could have withstood his disgusting chuckles in my ear, had he not tried to get to second base with it.

Pointing the gun directly beneath me I brace myself, for a spit second I dream of dancing amongst the stars and then I slam into the oak tree. Staggering to my feet, I’m up before my capture. He has no goddamn lips or eyelids and there’s dirt in his eyes. His body is so frail it looks feral and the stitch work scattered around it tells me lips aren’t the only thing missing.

A demonic growl spews not from its mouth but from the very depths of hell. Its claw like hand digs into the soft grounds of the necropolis, it drags itself closer to me. I shoot it in the face before its icky fingers touch me again.