19 August, 2006

Scarevella: the final chapter

Thanks to all who were concerned for their well wishes; I'm feeling much better. Last night I talked with the Ideal, and then slept soundly. This morning, after a breakfast with a couple friends, I set to work on finishing the Chapter. [Oh, and Uncle RSM, I did say within 36 hours... that did give some indication on WHEN it would be done. Guess this means you can't rely on me to housesit, huh? ; ) ]

Anyway, Christina began this story with Resurrection. Lolly continued it with Death Tolls. Phoenix carried it along with Unnatural. That1Guy had the latest addition to the story, with Old Man.

Here's mine; I hope it's enjoyable:

The Eye

Pascal slowly turned to face the old man, a malicious grin spreading across his face like wildfire. Bastien held his gaze, standing his ground as gusts of putrid wind rushed past the boy, untouched, and pelted him with stinging drops of rain. Corrine let out a bloodcurdling scream as the droplets changed to fire. Bastien waved the women off to the side, Corrine dragging and shielding Lady Niette from her horrifying son. His skin singed as the fire pelted against his slight frame.

Steeling his strength against the onslaught, Bastien blocked the spirits Pascal had sent careening after his mother. He called upon the appropriate god to spare the woman her fate. It was too bad about the boy. If only Pascal’d been shown how to use his powers appropriately... but ‘twas too late now. The work of every devil was within him, captivating his very soul and the souls of all he touched. Pascal must be stopped.

“Come now, old man! You know I cannot be stopped, just as this storm cannot be controlled,” sneered the small child. And the storm waged on its war against every object, living, dead, or otherwise. Bastien glanced up at the swirling vortex that just this afternoon had been a calm, clear sky. The lad was cocky, though hopefully wrong. Sighing, the old man launched a full assault on the boy.


“Not Pascal, please, dear Lord!” Lacy pleaded with her God, her chest heaving as she weeped with terror and sorrow. She and Corrine huddled behind a small wooden shack on the edge of the LaFleur property. Harsh winds whipped across their quaking bodies, tearing at them and chilling them to the center of their souls. Lacy could not watch the battle ensuing, for the display of such evil power would have killed her. Corrine whimpered as the spirits soared closer, wailing and screeching as they went. The two women clung to each other, utterly terrified.

Corrine glanced up at Lacy. With a shriek, she started back from her and cried, “My Lady, your – your hair!” Lacy’s magnificent locks had turned a stark white where dark tendrils had extended toward her head…


Jeffrey woke up with a start. His older son lay, curled in a tattered quilt, at his feet. For all the covers over him, the boy was shivering, his whole body quaking with fear of his brother. Jeffrey quietly arose, heading straight for the window. The storm was more powerful than any he had seen. The trees flailed this way and that, and the entire house shuddered, creaking back and forth. Branches snapped off, sounding so like gunshots. A flash of lightning etched an ugly scar across the sky.

In the black sky, Jeffrey could see an opening toward the center of the storm. It was not the calm for which he had hoped; the tear was dark and ominous. From it poured forth shadows of creatures too terrible to imagine. He could hear their wailing over the noise of the storm. Abruptly, he realized it was because they were closer than he’d thought. He backed away from the window slowly, stumbling over the fitfully sleeping Emile. Dark, swooping figures were heading straight for the house…


Pascal sent another wave of demons at Bastien, blasting him also with torrents from the ever-growing storm. Bastien could feel his power wavering as another bout attacked. He wavered in his stance. The winds pulled at his skin, stripping away at his life. This child was strong – stronger than he should have been made, but those were, again, the devils inside him. His eyes glowed red as he called more spirits against his frail mother. Her life was draining from her terrified eyes, opened wide to the horrors these demons held.

Bastien was failing, and he knew it. He denied the impulse to break free of this mess and end it easily. He must try to save Lady Niette. She alone had had some small amount of control over this boy. Without her, there was no hope for any of them. He looked over at the affected mother. She was losing her soul at an alarming rate. The boy was harsh with her. Swiftly, he called again upon the appropriate gods for her sake.

Yet as Bastien glanced again at Lacy, Pascal attacked full force. The old man was broadsided by the worst of the demon spirits; his life swept away by the malicious forces of the storm. As the spirits shrieked, his slight, worn body crumpled to the ground.

Lady Niette screamed as she tried to scramble away. The full array of spirits was now turning their attention toward her. Corrine held her strongly in place. Desperately, Lacy looked at her companion’s face. She paled, her eyes locked in a gaze shared by blood-red pupils. These eyes shared with her the complete extent of her sins, and all the horrors of all the hells.

“Good-bye, Ma mère,” Pascal’s voice sounded from close by, a cruel smile twisted across his lips. Lacy’s eyes wrenched away from Corrine’s demonic stare, and she looked upon her son for one last time. Her body went limp, her soul consumed by the demons swelling about them.

“Come, my servant,” he beckoned to the remaining woman, and they disappeared into the darkness of the storm.


Jeffrey relaxed his grip on young Emile as the spirits drew back, their wailing subsiding. The storm must be near an end, calming. He breathed a sigh of relief. Papa? Is it over?” He heard the trembling voice ask hesitantly.

“Oh, no, mon frère, it’s just the eye, the eye of the storm,” a corrupted voice intoned. Father and son looked up to see the small boy standing in the doorway. The storm raged about him, and the demons issued a bloodcurdling shriek as they rushed forth to devour the souls of Pascal’s remaining family. That-which-was-Corrine joined the force to consume, and Pascal’s maniacal laugh resounded throughout the bayou…