Holding the torch aloft, the ghoul walked into a square where globs of black moved away from the light. He swept the orange glow, piles upon piles of clothing and armor surrounding a platform. A chill crept upon him as he wondered who could have left them there. Hopefully, not another ghoul looking for ‘specimen’. Ignoring the creepy piles, he walked to the platform, noticing, upon arrival, a thick wooden board mounted on it. It stood at a tilt, metal rings at each corner, black stains running down the middle, facing the direction where most piles lay. Next to the platform, covered in orange glow, he waited as he had lost track of the little beast.
Before long, he heard the soft patter of little paws and moved to meet it. Into the light came the little thing, holding in its mouth an object bigger than its head. He bent his knees and a small black skull dropped into his extended hand.
Suddenly, he was surrounded by a swarm of hot bodies, pushing and prodding against him. Screams and shouts deafened his ears as he struggled to get his bearings. The smell was sharp, sweat and heat smothered into his face. He finally gave a strong enough push and out came his head from under an armpit and into the view of a reptilian face. His eyes widen in terror and he drew away into a mane, a face with jaws and fur; his screams drowned out in the chorus of mad voices. They didn’t notice him and in the throng, he noticed what he would consider normal faces. But no matter the type of face, they all wore the same expression: wide bloodshot eyes with mouths gaping open in anger. Turning to look at what they saw, brilliant red sunset light blinding his eyes, he saw the platform.
A man’s headless body was thrown off and into an already full cart, cheers resounding. He saw the cart drawn away; the man who pulled it performed the task mindlessly—his feet having learned their destination. The ghoul turned his head, looked at the platform where several men now struggled to tie another victim to the wooden board. He saw a yellow tattered grime-covered frilly dress, black and blue bruised pale skin, hands too short to reach the metal rings tied with rope, dirty matted red hair, but brilliant rebellious ruby eyes. The little girl hissed and snarled at the men who restrained her against the bloody board; a bearded bulk of a man stood to the side.
With a bloody battered sword, warped white armor, and indifferent eyes, the silent bearded fellow moved to the front of the platform and raised his sword to the sky.
“With this, the plague that has infested our world will be cleansed!” he savagely screamed.
A horde of voices replied. Rasped, roaring, hissing, and guttural.
“Cut it in two!”
“Take the eyes! TAKE THE EYES!”
“STAB THE HEART! MAKE IT FEEL THE PAIN WE FELT!”
“No!” the ghoul shrieked, a lone frightened whisper among the furious flames of mindless rage.
The bearded man prepared next to the wooden board, blood-soaked thing unable to take more, a pool of blood forming in the floor. The sword pointing to the sky was now laid against the horizon, a gleam of red running down its blade. With two meaty grubby hands, the sword was swung, biting into flesh that refused to give; a narrow shallow cut formed.
The ghoul pushed, struggled, to get to the front of the crowd, wanting to stop this madness. But he watched, helplessly, as the sword was driven again and again into what appeared to be a fragile pale neck. No longer did the mouth snarl; tears fell across the face. But those red rebellious eyes remained determined, a fierce gaze against all odds. He noticed the little mouth took a deep breath between every blow.
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The bearded man was exhausted, panting and puffing with both hands on his knees. He stared at the slight wound he had made, at the eyes that taunted his ability. A thinner younger version of the bearded man walked to him, presenting a similar looking sword but glowing a faint blue. Mad exhausted eyes looked at those still vibrant red eyes. He pushed the offering away, stood and swung and swung. Shallow cuts formed above dark bruised skin.
The man frustrated at the flesh that refused to surrender, took a grounded step into the pool of blood, and swung with all his might. His foot slipped and the sword bit into the wooden shuddering board with a loud slam, missing the pale neck by a hair’s breadth. It was only for a moment, as he moved to pull the blade away, that he saw the little girl, really saw her. The red eyes that stared at him with anger and fear that any living creature would feel, but then, she blew out purple smoke from her mouth and into his face.
The ghoul had just reached the front of the howling crowd when he saw the puff of purple. The bearded man clawed at his throat and walked off the platform, convulsing until he was still.
There was a horrifyingly loud silence as everyone went quiet. A glaze passed over everyone’s eyes, horrified at the loss they didn’t expect to experience.
It was then that a winged figure fell from the sky and onto the platform. Covered in glistening armor of white and gold, he spread his pure white wings on his back. Red eyes rested on a well-defined face chiseled to perfection. Vibrant healthy bronze skin emitted the scent of roses among the stagnant stench of filthy flesh. Lush golden hair was tied into a ponytail where it gleamed brilliantly. A thin scar ran from his left eyebrow to his cheek. It was the greatest of splendors, the man who had led the charge in battle. He took a deep breath and boomed.
“You see now, with your very own eyes, the danger that these things can be. Cowards they called us, but even the little ones can bring great harm to us all. From youth, they are able to kill, releasing toxic fumes from their body. Remember those who doubted us, who endangered our future. The fools. They endangered your children, your families, your prosperity. But who lies with the truth now? See with your very own eyes.” He points at the fallen bearded man. “There is no coexisting with these being of malice. Your sons and daughters who disappeared. Your wealth that these things took from you. Look around you, a city built off your misery. No, they cannot live by our side—no matter what anyone tells you. We are in the right.
And for those that came looking for lost loved ones. I am sorry to inform you that I have found them. Not a single bit of meat left on their bones. But I swear to you, that will happen to no one else.” He unsheathes his glowing blade and easily stabs it into the little ghoul’s hand. “You all shall be revered as heroes. The great men and women who against all odds, fought and defeated the ghouls who entrenched upon our world, ready to destroy it. What we did today will be remembered forever. This is the final cleanse.” And the beautiful man turns his back to the cries of woe and admiration, a wicked smile across his plumb lips.
The ghoul just grasped the edge of the platform as he saw a glowing edge raised and brought down, a swift motion severing life and body. Warm droplets glistened in the waning red sunlight, floating downwards to land on the ghoul’s face, heavy on his eyelids—shutting his eyes tight. Quivering, he waited for the horror to end, to be taken away from this horrific scene.
But he is not. Instead he hears the cries around him settle into moans of pain. He opens his eyes, greeted by the distant gaze of a blank face oozing out its remaining life. Startled, he moves away in disgust from the disembodied head and bumps into a man behind who holds his own head, groaning. He looks up toward the platform where the winged man holds a low stance: head swiveling around, eyes panicked and frightened.
Just then the first screams begin to come forth and wings blast away into the air, beating furiously to get away. Long howls, vacant of any clarity, begin to resound, mixed with the garbled noise of pain. The ghoul turns back to look at the crowd and sees the cause. Skin, hair, fur, scales, feathers, it all came apart. Faces and bodies began to disfigure as they bend and sway out of proportion. Bones protrude and flesh stretches to rupture. The screams die and out from within whatever attire they used to wear come out the grotesque black beings.
“I curse you all. I renounce you from death,” echoes the voice the ghoul was familiar with.
Black globs surround the ghoul. He struggles as they cover him, prodding and poking as they push against him. He extends one hand outward, grasping for the last rays of sunset.
And then there was total darkness.