Gift for the Darkness (Moose Rebellion extract)
Posted: 2005-10-28 11:11am
I've got this chunk of my novel thingy written that I'm rather pleased with, and since thanks to the Spartan I had a copy of the text, I thought I'd post it. I'm hoping that people familiar with Lord of the Flies might get the references, and I'm hoping that those who don't may at least find it slightly chilling. This chunk is all about the atmosphere, even more than the switch at the end, so if people think that the mood works or doesn't work, I'm always happy for feedback.
Chunk of Chapter Six wrote: The lobster general awoke.
His antennae were limp and his head lolled, a world of stabbing pain resolved into dull throbbing aches without end. His mind reeled, the last flashes of the lost battle scrolling through his head; the towering form of Naram standing over him, surrounded by the ferocious lightning-wreathed moosemonsters in all their wrath. The crushing claws of the moosemonsters rent the shell of the crab warlord where they made contact, and the rumbles of agony from the crustacean still echoed in the lobster general’s ears. And then came the sudden silence amidst the battle as the crab’s mind was torn apart by psychic fury and savage claw and the great warrior staggered and collapsed, his great shell coming crashing down on top of the lobster general. Protector turned to executioner in the strike of a single unspeakable claw.
The general stared into the surrounding darkness. Dimly he could hear drops of water splashing onto cold stone and through his bloody eyes he could begin to make out the shadows of strange creatures watching him in the gloom.
“You foolish lobsters…” breathed a voice in his ear.
The lobster general started at the sound. He tried to twist around to see his tormentor, but his body seemed frozen in terror and would not move. He let out a strangled gasp.
“Did you really think you stood a chance against these moose?” mocked the Lord of the Flies.
“What could you have done against their weapons? What skills could you and your rabble of krill possibily do against such power?” continued the Lord of the Flies, his low whispering voice seemed to curl itself around the lobster general’s mind. A choking, freezing fog descended over the general, and his angry protestations came out only as a choking gurgle.
The Lord of the Flies laughed; it was a cruel laugh, devoid of warmth and humour. It chilled the general from antennae to tail.
“Do you seriously think your puny elite could have found this den of moose on their own? In all of the Pacific ocean, they just happened to find this base, that has remained hidden from your band of crustaceans since your quaint little struggle began?”
The lobster general tried to close his eyes, to ward off the sinuous voice that sidled into the darkest corners of his mind, but they too were suddenly frozen.
“No, my poor helpless lobster, you were led by the designs of a race which barely conceives of your existence other than as a tool of their great works. You, and even the moose who routed your pathetic army this day, are as the smallest of ants that are crushed under the foot of titans to them.”
The Lord of the Flies seemed to pause, considering the matter.
“But perhaps I can ease your suffering, this menagerie that butchered the troops that you blindly lead to their doom; the creatures that shattered the shells of those who trusted you most deeply, the enemy that even now burns the cracked carapaces of your closest friends on the battlefield above; soon… soon, all too soon they shall feel the burn of a raging fire that shall char their bodies to cinder and ash, even as they congratulate themselves on their smallest of victories.”
The lobster general gurgled, and the Lord of the Flies lowered his voice till it was barely a whisper,
“Perhaps as the moment of your death draws near, you may draw some comfort in the knowledge that when the moment of death arrives for the worlds of crustacean and moose, the countless thousands who perish will envy your passing and would give anything for a release without agony.”
The Lord of the Flies drew back, back to the wall of the dark cavernous prison of the lobster general and gathered his demonic will. A brilliant blue light shone forth, surrounding and enveloping him…
BZZZT!
The Lord of the Flies had flown into the fly zapper and with a barely audible thud and a small whisp of smoke, the tiny charred body fell to the cool rocky floor of the cave below.
And so ended the life of the most evil bluebottle ever to roam the unhappy world. He had fed on misery and sorrow wherever he had found it. Where evil and darkness lurked, he had forged a nest of hatred in which to sleep. Where enemies of the world gathered and schemed, he watched and listened and laughed at the fate that awaited the unknowing innocent. None will ever know what demonic creatures he whispered to in the wilds of the world, and all who know of him breathe a sigh of relief at his passing.
In some higher dimension, the Conductor of the Electric Light Orchestra smiled broadly as he felt the melody of one of his thousands of loyal instruments claim the life of that most diabolical of insects, and began to compose a strange magical overture for what felt like the ten thousandth time.