literature

Master Of Puppets

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Master of Puppets


*CRACK* With one last mighty swing of his ax, the pine fell to earth. Sweat glistened on his arms and brow, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath taken. His throat burned, his muscles screamed in agony, though none of these effects were from his work. A mask of normality draped his face, hiding away his pain. Only a few feet away one of his coworkers was letting out a string of curses as he dodged a falling branch, oblivious to the monster so close to him. The foreman pulled up in his truck, letting everyone go for the day.

“Ronan, headin’ over ta Killarney for a pint with Callahan. Yer welcome ta join us.” A firm hand patted his shoulder as Breccan walked past. White Gates Pub was frequented by the group of men on long, hard worked days.

“Aye lads, but only for one pint.” Ronan knew it was risky to go along for their usual nightly ritual but didn’t want to raise suspicion if he declined.

The 30 minute ride was a distracted one, simply nodding or replying one word statements to his comrades’ chit chat.  Once at the pub, he sat at the same table as always, ordered the same pint of Carlsberg as he always did.

“Ye’ve been awfully fascinated with her.” Callahan nudged the red head from his trance. He hadn’t even realized he was staring at a woman across the room. “Go talk to the lass.” Ronan glanced back at the woman, actually taking in her appearance. Ivory, almost flawless skin, sharp emerald green eyes, thin lips pulled into a playful smirk. He noticed something atop her head, protruding from her dark chestnut hair.

“Do ye see those, Cal…?” He turned back to his friend but noticed his absence. Ronan decided to engage the mysterious woman. She appeared to be waiting for him, one hand holding a half drank Guinness and her cheek resting on the other. Her eyes were burning into his, searching his soul for something.

“It’s almost dark. You sure it’s safe for you here?” Her smirk grew larger, taking a large gulp of the dark beer. As he reached her table he saw clearly the two curved charcoal horns. “You’re not crazy. I know you see them Ronan.” How did this stranger know his name? As he studied her face, realizing that her left eye had a massive scar across it, leaving the once dark emerald a light jade color. She stood, leaving a few coins and started for the door.

“Wait!” He started to follow the woman, not noticing the darkness slowly falling. He ignored the excruciating pain radiating throughout his body. She led him on, laughing madly as she ran through the forest.

“Well, it seems you’ve gotten more used to the gift I gave you.” Ronan stopped and looked around him. He stood in the walls of Castle Ross, nestled within the Killarney national park. “I’m losing my control over you, my dear Ronan.” The strange woman appeared next to him, running her clawed fingers down his cheek, caressing his facial hair.

“Who are ye?” He moved away, backing against the ancient stones of the castle. Faking a hurt face the woman paced slowly in front of him.

“I’m deeply offended that you could forget me. I saved your life, like you tried to save your sisters.” Ronan growled, how could she know of that horrid night? “Lilith.” She disappeared into the shadows. Ronan could feel the transformation happening, bones began to break with sickening cracks, muscle stretched beyond human limits. Cries of agony rang out across the lake.

“A whole pack of them attacked the two of you.” Lilith’s voice echoed in his head. “You did fight nobly, but it wasn’t enough to save you both. I found you lying in a pool of blood,dead, from both the beasts and yourselves. I felt pity for you and brought you back. You begged for me to save your dear little sister so I used a spell or two on the both of you.” Ronan could see the things she described; still his body stretched and tore.

“A necromancer. That’s what I am, since you forgot. You took the magic with ease but your sister took longer. You grew into the beast but I had yet to control you and you attacked your own kin. Tragic, really.” The images faded and he was left in the darkness of the night. Fur had begun to sprout from his pores. “I had controlled you every full moon for the past seven years but I knew that as time went on, you would break away from me. If that happened you would run wild through the streets of Ireland and slaughter innocent humans.” It was complete, there he stood in all of his werewolf glory. His pupils were dilated and glazed over, he was lost to the world. Lilith sighed sadly. She reached out her right hand to the beast, his muzzle almost touching her palm. He sniffed the skin and growled, snapping at her flesh.

“The puppet has become the master, but no more.” With one swift movement, *CRACK* the beast fell limp, to earth.
short story for halloween
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