Friedrich wiped his eyes. They were damp.
‘Now, where are you?’ The glow grew closer and closer. ‘Ah, here you are.’
The line of light sparkled.
‘Just follow me and do exactly as I say.’
A growl, a low menacing growl, filled the room. The red hand hung, suspended in the darkness. ‘What?’
The hand switched left and right.
A pair of scarlet eyes flashed with it.
The sound of ripping.
Zap! A ray of light hit the ceiling. Rocks and plaster showered over Friedrich. Then, the sound of scraping. A thin, blue strip peeled away the darkness.
A shadow blocked the dawn.
Thud! Bang! A bark. Then a growl. Eyes glowed. More zapping. Screams. Low growls like a predator eating its quarry.
Strong arms lifted Friedrich. As he was carried out of the morgue, Friedrich watched a bulk intersect the red ray. Then the line of light faded.
On the World of the Wends
Boris swaggered into the church and crawled up the wall at the back of the hall. Now let’s see what these suckers are up to. He nursed his stump. The new hand was already pushing its way into existence—like a shark’s tooth; it merely replaced the one bitten off. Boris mused. Serves the dog right for attacking me. Could be interesting what effect my hand will have on a wild dog. May give it a taste for human flesh—the folk better watch their babies. Hmmm, could be one way of keeping my “hand” in the affairs of that town while I’m away on business. Boris chuckled.
The hall was crowded. Every pew filled and the folk flowed around the edges to standing.
Boris rubbed his hand and stump together. ‘Ooh, I do like a good gathering.’
Herr Biar presided over the congregation.
Boris remained glued to the wall and unnoticed, while Biar railed against the evils of Boris.
‘Typical. How could he, after all I’ve done to him. Will he never learn?’ Boris tutted.
Some villagers hurled insults at Biar. Others cheered in response to Biar’s words and then jeered at the doubters. Someone threw a rotten apple core into the air. It landed with a splat on the front of the pulpit.
‘Now where’s that boy and girl?’ Boris scanned the congregation with his multiple but unseen eyes. He studied each corner of the church’s interior and structure: the altar with simple wooden table white cloth placed on top, the rough-hewn cross hung on the wall behind it, the polished pine pulpit, the arched ceiling not quite egg shape and fragile; the slightest bump and it would probably collapse onto the mass (oh, Boris would like to see that), then the beams that kept the walls from falling in or out, and finally the organ tucked away in the rear of the hall. Surely the boy had to be somewhere, it’s not possible that he followed Boris to Earth from the outhouse “porta-transwarp” station. The “transwarp” had briefly opened with the storm and just as quickly, shut down after the lightning bolt hit the lavatory.
Boris frowned. Never liked the look of that young man, with that blonde wavy hair and ruddy complexion, he looks like that Joshua I ate all those thousands of years ago.
Boris’ blood-filled campaign began when a human called Joshua invaded his planet. Joshua defiled Boris’ kingdom with goodness; just when Boris had his world just the way he liked it, rotting with evil and corruption. Then Mr Goody-Two-Shoes pranced in on the violence and destruction and began converting his cohorts, including his wife, Maggie to purity and light. How Boris hated goodness. He couldn’t allow this Joshua to undermine his empire of filth. He had to do something about it. Boris killed Joshua and feasted on him. Energised by his nemesis’ dead flesh, Boris flew up to Joshua’s spacecraft to conquer and consume his crew. But his attempt to invade Joshua’s ship caused the vessel to explode like a red dwarf gone supernova annihilating Boris’ planet and solar system. Ever since, Boris has roved the universe, consuming planetary systems and colonies, enslaving every sentient and non-sentient species, and building his forces with the intent of someday—soon—very soon—dominating the planet from which Joshua had come—Earth.
Boris eyed the lively brood of villagers. Humans, how he hated them. He clocked the doctor. Doctor Zwar lounged in the back corner, his feet raised up and resting on the pew in front. Boris purred. Still they are useful. I like the way you can pit one against the other. So stupid…and yet, so useful. That guy with the funny moustache was like putty in my hands. Pity he got so cocky he thought he knew better and didn’t listen to me. I told him not to invade the Russian-front in winter…I almost had Earth…now I’m back to square one. Boris’ antennae twitched. ‘Now, where was I?’
[…to be continued]
© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2017
Feature Photo: Inside of Notre Dame © Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2014