Last Stand

• Winson Xiao, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2018

The Creature roared, it was closer this time.
Warily I peeked out from behind the wall, taking in the scene that played out before me. The village, which I had called refuge was in shambles. The road was covered in a slick mud, the remains of the cobbled footpath was speckled through it, each cobble peaking up from the mud like a small island. Ruined remains of gutted stone houses lined the road on both sides, writhing grey husks of men stalked the hallowed buildings, climbing over collapsed roofs or wriggling out of a collapsed wall, leaving a trail of guts behind them.
A massive cloud of dust and stone erupted from a ruined house down at the end of the street. It was a grotesque creature; its skin was paler than milk. A thick viscous inky fluid caked the sickly scabs that covered its spindly form; a toxic fume billowed from the scabs. Its torso resembled that of a man, however its innards were hollowed out and long spider like appendages writhed from where the ribs would sit. Its limbs mimicked the human form, long, writhing tendrils coiled round one another to form its arms and legs. The head was formed from a similar method though, though the face bore no human feature instead a large pulsing cyclopean eye rested in the soft mass of tendrils like a child in a cradle.
In seconds the tendrils launched forward like ballista bolts, latching onto whatever solid objects it could find and like a sling, the Creature flung itself over to my position. I leaped away from the wall that had served as my cover. The Creature barrelled over it, the force of the impact sent me flying into another wall across the street.
I groaned, got up and drew my sword, raising it into a neutral position. Ready to attack or defend. The Creature rose to its full horrifying height, my head only coming up to its waist. The twitchy spidery appendages poised themselves like a vertical hinged jaw. The tendrils started to loosen and the dark miasma poured out from the scabs like the early morning mist. This was it, my last stand. A flood of memories filled my head, the burning streets, the crumbling castles of once powerful lords, the stench of blood and dark miasma mingling to form the birthing ground of the Creature that stood before me and the legions of dead that stalked the land.
We held our positions like statues, my sword was poised at its eye, and the spidery appendages that encircled me, twitched, ready to snap shut and spear through my flesh. Seconds felt like hours, and after an eternity, I saw it. The eye sank into the writhing mass that made its head. The spidery appendages twitched. I launched forward, the appendages snapped shut, spearing through my arms, chest and legs. My sword continued stabbing into its head and piercing the eye within.