Hell Plate ----Flash #2

Hey, hey! Here's a bit of flash for Charles' freaky flash thing going on. Enjoy!


Hell Plate

Here it spewed from the cankerous maw of the earth and into the sky. The pillar of orange, the light of Hell.

Marcus shifted on his feet. They felt numb. His heart was beating too fast and his skin prickled with goose flesh. Save for himself, the plateau was an empty plate. His eyes water from the sulfur stench that huffed into his sweaty face.

He knew this night would come. He knew it would be Halloween. All things bad happen on Halloween. This year, however, would be the worst. This year was the rise of Beelzebub. Satan's second in command. The creature was too be loosed and begin it's awful plagues.

Marcus sighed, cleared his throat and slid his sword from its scabbard at his left hip. He hefted it and then glanced at the pillar. God give me strength, he thought.

The pillar split open. The odor or rot and sickness wafted to Marcus and he held his breath against it. Marcus wondered if God was watching, and decided that yes, He was watching. All Earthly Archangels were watched closely.

Then Beelzebub lurched from the orange pillar. A hunched, diseased thing, face festooned with warts that obscured its dark face. Long claws scraped the ground as it moved out of the pillar and into the night air. It lifted its misshapen head and howled at the moon.

"Beelzebub," Marcus growled.

The creature straightened, red eyes fixed on Marcus, shocked.

Marcus roared and sprinted at the monster.

In spite of its lurching and sickness, the thing moved with the speed of hummingbird. Swift and flit. It side stepped away from Marcus and swept a claw at him. It missed.

Marcus whirled, slashed his sword in a blinding arc. The beast yelped. Half of its warty face sloughed off and plopped wetly to the dirt and rock.

Shrieking, Beelzebub attacked.

But Marcus, being faster, ran his sword into the monster's sternum, twisted it, sliced upward.

He yanked the blade out and stepped away.

Beelzebub crumbled to the ground, wheezing, black blood poured out onto the rock of the plate.

Then the creature's movements stilled. Marcus lifted his sword, ready to decapitate, when a low growl sounded behind him. He knew that growl well.

"Celebus," he gasped.

Marcus turned, and was greeted by three sets of long silvery fangs.

Then he knew no more.