Now this is one of the pending fantasy horror projects I have.  Yes I said fantasy horror.  It might not officially be a genre but I can do dark dark things with fantasy elements so why not right?  Not sure when I will finish this but it is in the queue


Walk Blind into the Night…


Sometimes running away will save you but not this time.  The city streets in this part of town were not well lit.  Hell whole blocks were as dark as a forest at midnight. He stopped to lean against a broken wall, gasping like a fish pulled out of the water and left to die slowly on the dock.  Casting frightened glances behind him, he tried to catch his breath mumbling prayers to who ever would hear him.  He needed to get out of this place.


A shadow detached itself from the wall across the empty street from him and ghosted toward him.  He let out a little whimper and pushed himself back upwards tensing to start running again.  Then he saw the second shadow coming from ahead of him lower to the ground, a massive shaggy form that was neither man nor beast.  The terror bubbled up into a scream that he let loose as a hand came down on his shoulder and spun him about.


The dark form now in front of him came into focus as a woman.  Somehow she was scarier than the other two forms.  Something in her eyes made the little howling monkey inside everyman scream and quiver.  Her eyes were a color not seen in his world.  A color only seen in the center of artic ice.  Pale cold blue, no woman should have eyes that color.  The wind whipped around and blew the hood of her long coat down and hair the color of flame coated in honey blew about a too pale face.  In a world of people ranging in all the shades of brown she stood out with her hair, her eyes and her skin the color of cream.


“Oh gods below save me” he started to pray.  He only got the first part out before a hand rocked his head back.


“Your gods aren’t here little man.  And they don’t like people like you using them as an excuse for prejudice and murder.”  Her voice though harsh with contained anger was still musically different.  The way she said the words enough to let a person know she wasn’t speaking her native tongue.  Stepping back she gave him a look like he was lower than a worm under a rock.  “Did you let Susan Raime pray before you and your men burned her in that abandoned building? Did you let her children say their prayers before you sold them to the labs?”