No one ever went close to the old house on top of the hill. The last family who lived there fled in a couple of weeks. Others before them had not been as lucky.
Now a car was driving up the driveway. Two children came out from the back seat. The driver helped their mother inside with some boxes and suitcases befre he drove off.
A shadow was watching from the window. Once again they would invade his home, once again he would have to defend his property. Just because he was dead, they thought they could come and take what was his.
They would regret this…
Cong stared over Mike’s shoulder. Mike turned slowly around. A tentacle rose up beside the boat, Another took grip on the fence.
Alaaaaaarrrm!!! Cong screamed. Huang, the last of the crew came running up on deck, pulling his pants up. He stopped. Mike was pulled out into the water right in front of him. He disappear in the waves.
Cong grabbed a machete from the table, charged. He cut one of the monstrous arms.
Grab something! He screamed to Huang. Fight!
Huang grabbed an oar, went running towards another arm. Something grabbed the oar, pulled it out of his hand. A huge eye were staring at him…
He saw something move. A shadow was coming out from one of the backstreets. A man. He came walking towards him. Others appeared from the darkness as well.
Howdy! Clifton said. How come there’s so few people around?
No answer. They walked up the street towards him. They moved in a strange way, slowly, clumsily. One was limping, another seemed to be missing an arm. His horse neighed.
The marshal loosened the cap on his gun holster.
I said howdy!
One of the figures moaned. They were coming uncomfortably close.
Clifton pulled his gun in a fast movement.
Stop! He said. Don’t come any closer, or I’ll shoot!
He could see their faces now. Their eyes. They looked… dead. Empty.
He fired a shot. In the air, to see if he could scare them off.
They kept walking…
(I’ve been recycling some illustrations lately. This time I’ve done it the other way around: A new illustration to an old story. The story has been edited and you can see the original version here.)
There was a circle of mushrooms underneath some trees in the forest. Smoke could be seen between them, from the ground. It grew. Flames emerged as a hole opened.
A hand came up between the flames, grabbing the edge. Another. Two horns, an evil face. A foot.
The little demon pulled himself out of the hole, got on his feet. Stretched his back, and looked up on the starless sky. The night was coming to an end. Soon ridiculously disgusting human beings would start doing their insignificant things, thinking they mattered.
He wanted to do something different today. ..
Hey kid! What’s up?
Jeremy opened his eyes. Someone was talking to him from under the bed.
Uh.. We… I mean, I’m… A friend! That’s it, a friend.
Several voices giggled. Friend.. Hihihi! Good one, good one, goo…
Shut up! You’re ruining it!
Johnny sat up.
Come down here, man! It’s fun! Don’t be afraid, we’ll have a great time, just me and you!..
He took a step down the slippery stairway. The scarce light from the tomb entrance made his trained eyes capable of seeing the steps going down into the darkness. Nothing more. A vast blackness in front was all there was.
Somewhere down there was the tomb of Ack Asamrk, the leader of the once so powerful Ingran Kuthu empire. Where there was power, there was wealth.
At the end of the stairway Gardahr saw the shining wet dirt floor. He took anther step. The floor moved. He pulled his sword. A hiss from behind.
A head came shooting towards him…