Saturday, December 24, 2011



Road Rash Holly and The Beast of Chaos: Tristan

"Help me!"

A distant hollar, that became apparent in the midnight darkness, by the dead white shine of pale flesh, amidst the headlights. As the fragile drawn brunette, with the weakening body, fell to her knees before the blue sedan. And even as the car slow to a stop. And the man climbed out to check on her, she stare into those lights. Staring as though she had been dead for sure. Only muttering for help once more. And then she collapse at the man's feet.

"Fucking crackheads in this city!"

He mutter. And yet, he remained hesitant to the thoughts of dragging her to the side of the road, leaving her to soak back to her own state of sanity, inside the rain. 'It might do her some good.. but still.' He thought. Then shaking those thoughts from his mind. He curled one arm beneath her back, the other tucking in her legs, so he could cradle her, as he carry her to the car. And once pulling the door in and setting her down in the backseat, he sighed watching her fall against her right side. Ignoring her as she mutter.

"Everyone. The demon killed them all."


The man slammed the car door shut. And she could hear a voice softly toned, like a lover's whisper in her ears. And she jolted upward. Staring around a bedroom. Her bedroom. She tried desperately to recall what happend. Was there a chance, it was all just some twisted nightmare? Had everything she been through just been a trip? A mindfuck? Some sort of prank, surely.

"Lindi, you're going to pay for this!"

Holly crawled from her bed, and stomped down the end of the hall. To the last door with the faint red light that glow from a half-inch crack beneath it. And she banged her palm against the door. But heard no answer. So she shook the handle, but the door wouldn't open.

"Come on, Lindi. Let me in!"

When still Lindi would not answer. Holly grunted, and took two steps back before charging through the door, into the room. That's when she realized. That glow was not a normal light. The crimson stain of blood puddled from one end of Lindi's bedroom to the next, and following that trail. She found Lindi resting against the wall. Her head caved inward at the center, beneath the flat panel television, once hung so carefully to the ceiling, and supported by two metal rods, that were now embedded around Lindi's neck, making it impossible for Holly to pry the television away, and only further rought her misery, when she tried, and the bars cut along the neck taking Lindi's head with it.

"Oh my god. Lindi."

Holly dropped the television staring at the now headless corpse, and fell back to her ass. It wasn't a nightmare. It was happening again. Then she heard the whistle. It was coming toward her, from the stairs below. And she was too late. Reaching the doorway, the darkness of the flowing black robes, and the snow white porcelain mask beneath the hood staring back at her. Like deaths doll.

"Honestly, love. Ya disrupt the slumber o' the dead, to call me up. And ya act as though ya think. If even briefly, you'll be gettin' away from me."

The hood was drawn away. The mask removed. To reveal Tristan revelling in her sorrowful and pathetic state. The shining emerald glow peeking out from beyond dyed black hair, that found her lost in his gaze. Then he reach out, and touch his palm gently to Hollys shoulder. His accent drifting away with his serious tone.

"You are at an impasse. I have taken fates strings. And while they have weaved a specific course for you. You played with things, that were outside of your realm of understanding. Thus it is I, who hold you up now. And I say repent. Repent, or die."

"How? How do I undo what I've done?"

Holly questioned while she clinch her eyes, trying so desperately, to hold back the tears that she had boiling in from the corners to the center of eyelid, so painful it itch and ache to the core of her pupils. And then those tears broke away, hearing the laughter. A manical laughter that mocked her sadness.

"How? How do you think you atone for you and also for your friends? How do you appease a God like me? Decide do you deserve your punishment, or will another die in your place!?"

Holly broke into tears, and push past Tristan. Darting down the stairs, running as if he would be chasing right behind her, while he barely move. But rather spoke loudly, so that she might hear him as she ram her way out of the front door.

"Exist inna nigh'mare, kitten. Where black is white, white, black, da world is naw yer own. An' da company ya keep, shall perish!"


Another voice. Following that sadistic mocking laughter. This one more well known. It was her friend Mars. The nerdy and unkempt looking man who charge toward her from the opposite end of the street, making her stop in her tracks.

"What's the matter with you? Stop!"

Mars grabbed Holly by the arm, and forced her to quit as she tried to dodge around him and run. Then he pull her back in against himself. And commanded.

"Tell me, what's going on with you, Holly."

"It's the man from the book. The man he killed Lindi."

"Man from the book? Are you taking your medication?"

"I am not a figment of such a pitiful imagination."

Tristan's voice interrupted, and already Mars peer over Holly's left shoulder when she turned to look at Tristan aswell. Tristan was standing, rather, towering above the two of them, licking his thumb and brushing it against the sharp corners of the pages. Muttering.

"Mmm. Mhm. Leonard "Mars" Bello. You have touched the grimoire. Guilty."

"Excuse me? Who the fuck are you!?"

Mars emitted, his tone deepend with anger as he was called out by the stranger. But then Tristan lifted that thin-and-bone weilded pointer digit, and directed at Mars. And when he did, the scaffolding began to fall apart at the end of the corner, and the steel support beam swept down from right to left. So even as he continue to hold onto Holly's arm, it came down, and split him through the middle, tearing cleanly through the nerves and exitting the other half of his body leaving only the front of his body standing, until the nerve reaction forced the hand to unclinch from Holly's arm, then he topple forward toward her, and she flicked him away screaming as she bathed in his blood. And she ran for some time with Tristan stomping behind her.

It seemed as though no matter what she would do. He was right there. No matter how quickly she ran away, he was always behind her. Even when she took a detour through the alley that she knew none may walk at night. The gang territory. She hoped that their threatening presence might be enough to scare thie psychopath from her trail. But when tempted with the violence of those inhabitants of this dark alley. Tristan merely snap his fingers, and present himself with a blunt instrument. A baseball bat, with a metallic coating. And with no hesitation, the first man to approach was found to have his blood and brains scattered over the brick wall and garbage bin, and more as he continued to trail behind her through out the alley.

And she had almost given up hope of running. That is, until she came away from the streets, and upon the river. And crossing the water, cleaned away most of the blood, but left her crippled by the freezing cold. Still, as she turn her head, she realized Tristan stood facing her at the opposite end of the river, refusing to cross the bed of water. And she took this as her chance to get away. And there it was again. The blue sedan.

"What's going on?"

Holly question. But still she charged outward, feeling as though she were out of options, she crossed the hill, and ran from the dying grass, then stood weakly infront of the sedan, only this time even as the man push on his breaks. The car continued to speed up, until after he hit Holly. Then as it skid to a slowing pace, the rear design hooked the ankle of Holly's pants, and it took her behind the car until it burnt away her flesh, and when it finally stop, and she peer up in her near deathly state, she could see Tristan chewing on an apple, that had been soaked with her blood, so that it was dripping from beneath it, and into his palm.

"Abandon false hope, plaything. You cannot run from me."

And this was the image, and the words. That haunt Holly, she couldn't be sure exactly had happend. Her memory, completely destroyed. The once fragile and weak baby-soft flesh, now given a class of it's own, by the road rash covering half of her face. As she awoke, gasping, restrained to a hospital bed.

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