This weeks blog post is in conjunction with the Blog-A-licious Blog Tour. I am pleased to be on the tour along with some very interesting and informative writers. At the bottom of this post will be a listing of the addresses of the other bloggers discussing this weeks subject. I encourage you to visit them also.
Thank you for visiting my blog, I hope you enjoy it and sign up to follow it.
The topic for this week’s Blog-A-licious Blog Tour is:
“Writing To Me Is…”
.…the tunnel is dark, long and narrow. The walls and ceiling drip with slime and an unhealthy gooey substance seemingly moving of it’s own will, while a green, stagnant substitute for water slouches loudly over my boots leaving a dirty, oily residue behind. The smells of mold and stagnation fill my nostrils and assaults my senses as my mouth puckers and crinkles against the bitter, metallic taste or the cavern.
My hands and arms bleed and sting from bumping against the sharp, craggy walls and my legs are stiff and sore from the running. But I cannot stop. I must keep moving back, ever back, deeper into the tunnel, further away from the light. It’s been so long since I’ve seen the light bathed in its radiance – reflected in its power.
I’ve forgotten the caress of the sun on my face.
How I long for the sun.
There is no rest. The beast pursues me relentlessly, without stop or pause. Pushing me, driving me deeper into the cavern. I’ve been running so long, running from the beast. So tired – so worn – so frightened and empty. And still I run – moving deeper and deeper into the cave – further and further away from the light.
I hear it. It’s getting closer and closer. Moving steadily, not running, it doesn’t need to, there is no way out, no escape. It just keeps coming, not stopping, not-resting, not running, just a steady advance, trudging and slogging forward as it stalks and hunts me. I must move – can’t stop – can’t rest – deeper – keep moving – away from the light.
It’s breathing is raspy, guttural gasps of air, more like scooping than inhaling. It’s so close I can feel the air quiver when it breathes.
I run faster... tripping …….stumbling………falling.
The pungent arid stench of sulfur surrounds me as I careen off the long sharp rods protruding up and out from all angles and places on the walls, ceiling and floor.
The beast is close now. I smell its putrid breath. It’s malodorous – nauseous and I swoon with dizziness. I taste the sickening stench from its mouth. Its face is hideous, large pointed ears, coarse leathery skin covered by thick grainy hair matted and caked foul with residues and pieces of decayed flesh.
The eyes are set back in its head, red and bloody, beady with slits for pupils that glare ahead like searing torches of evil fire. Large fangs protrude upwards from a mouth lined with multiple rows of razor teeth eager to tear and devour my flesh and consume my bones.
It moves nearer, but I have reached the end of the tunnel, there is no more. The light at the opposite end is so far away, just a mere pinpoint that fades like the fleeting glint of a firefly. I cannot get by the beast. My back is punctured and cut by the sharp, pointed rods as I press into the rock hoping to disappear into it. My heart grows weak and my life flickers.
Frantically I search my pockets, seeking a weapon. A pocket knife? A pen? A coin? Something – anything to fight back with.
I find nothing.
There, in my back pocket, a lump. Fumbling, grasping I struggle to pull it out.
A crumbled wad of yellowed papers. Edges frayed and torn. Papers! Useless papers!
Unfolding them I open the pages. There’s writing there. It’s faded, smudged and faint, I cannot make them out. But as I strain to see in the darkness, the words begin glowing of their own light. They grow brighter and clearer. I stare at them, my lips mouthing the words…
…I read the words…
…and they burn into my soul.
The words bring me life. My heart begins beating again. I feel a resurgence of energy and power moving through me – a wave of renewal washes over me and my life revives.
The beast stands in front of me, snarling and swaying. Its low growls intermix with loud shirks and screams. It stops and stares at the papers in my hand. It snarls and howls in disdain and derision. Rearing back it huge ugly head a bellowing roar shakes the ceiling and echoes down the cavern as it begins its final advance on me.
In my hand, the papers begin moving of their own accord, stretching – growing longer and denser. They start to curl, stiffen and harden, pushing against my fingers, forcing them apart. They become heavy and begins pulling down on my shoulder as my hand feels the weight of cold, hard steel.
I look down, and my jaw opens in amazement. There, my hand, which only seconds earlier had clutched a sheaf of old yellowed papers now firmly grips a weapon. It’s cold, hard and heavy – steel; long and hollow ….
… I hold a…a bazooka?
The beast reaches for me – long, curled claws spread wide open, grasping for my flesh. Orange ooze dripping from the snarling mouth as its jaws opened and closed, spewing spittle and phlegm, splattering my face. Its teeth and fangs snapped and ground together, salivating with blood lust.
I raise the weapon – point it at the beast…
… and it fires of its own accord.
The explosion is deafening inside the tunnel, echoing off the walls and reverberating down the length of the cavern. Stalagmites vibrate and tremble as pools of molten sulfur shimmer and ripple. The beast bellows in shock and pain and in the throes of death it throws back its massive head and gives out one final monstrous death wail.
The beast is no more.
In my hand is a manuscript.
Writing to me is… my bazooka.
I walk towards the light
Here’s the list of bloggers you don’t want to miss on the Blog-A-Licious Blog Tour
10. Sarah - http://sarahbutland.com/blog/
17. Nolan - http://nolanwilsonfreelance.com/blog
20. Grace - http://graceelliot-author.blogspot.com/