She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XXXI)

Disclaimer

The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.  

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author.  Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts and webseries!

———

His vision doubled from the impact.

The pain was excruciating, but for the moment the voices in his head were silenced.  Although the pain anchored him to the moment, it felt as if he were lost inside a dream.  From somewhere far away he heard the bat-like screeches of Lucy’s voice as she cursed more about the damage to the wall than to him.

A syrupy mixture of blood and tears coated his eyes, allowing him to see the world through death’s own, and he peered through the crimson veil at the monstrosity before him.  It waved its trunk-like appendages emphatically as it advanced, alternating between gesturing at him and the wall where he had just planted his head.

A steady throbbing began to spread from his temples, reaching with its hurtful tendrils until it covered the crown of his skull.

He looked upon the hellspawn before him and lost touch with reality.

The creature before him barely passed for a female of his species.  It was nearly tall as he, but consisted of mountains upon mountains of flesh which spilled over itself from its neck to its cankles.  It was naked, except for the brassiere that covered its mountainous assets.  He looked briefly downward, praying to whatever god was listening, that he wouldn’t see its gender specific bits and found that he couldn’t even if he tried.  Its large bulbous stomach hung low, covering anything that might help him to determine whether it had an inny or an outy.

He returned his eyes to its face when it suddenly shrieked his name. For a brief moment, even in his current state, he nearly forgot where he was.  Perched atop the countless globs of unwashed skin was the face he had once grown to love.  There wasn’t time for him to reflect, however, as it suddenly lunged in attack.

It led with its right arm, leading with the same fist which had already once marked his face, but this time it wouldn’t connect. He ducked to the left and stepped underneath its arm, around its body and stopped just behind the behemoth.  

It turned to face him, sputtering words over its lips faster than he could follow.  He began to smile, and when a look of confusion came over its features, he began to laugh.  His head protested from the vibrations his throat was thrusting upon it, but it felt too good for him to stop.  Only when the creature’s expression suddenly filled with rage did he become quiet.  It swung again, and once more he side-stepped and ducked behind it.  This time he planted a foot squarely over the crack between its massive pimple-covered buttocks, (it wasn’t wearing any underwear), and shoved with every bit of strength his leg could muster.

His perception suddenly cleared and he watched, horrified, as Lucy slammed into the banister.  His right hand shot out, reaching futilely toward her as she tipped over the edge and fell from sight.

“NO,” he screamed in anguish.  “It wasn’t REAL!”

The Box (XIII)

The sword was cold and unfamiliar in his hands, but it was a necessary inconvenience.  While he possessed many powerful magics for the coming battle, he still needed something that would open the creature for them to be more effective.

“I suppose I could have allowed them to live,” he muttered thoughtfully to himself.

Despite his words, he knew that he had made the right choice. They would have been useful against the Great Flame, their unique skills would have given him a greater chance for survival, but the overall risk of the box falling into their hands was too great.

He would rather face the venerable wyrm when it was at the height of its power than to allow for that to happen.

As he continued to close the distance between himself and the lair, he silently appraised the condition of the longsword.  The light blue substance Elladuer’d applied to the metal held.  Though he hadn’t heard what the elf had claimed it was, it appeared to have temporarily enchanted the metal for one purpose.

“To slay the dragon,” he breathed.

The words echoed softly from the stone, disturbing the silent denizens of the underdark, big and small alike.  Some acknowledged it with nary a glance, while others fled deeper into the nether.

“O’salum Na’eldraeya, Y’salonna Drak.”

As he incanted the words of the spell, he lightly drew the blade across the palm of his right hand.  It bit into his flesh, parting it with its temped edge and drank of his blood.  Not a single drop was spilled.  The blade absorbed it greedily, prompted by the power he gave unto it.

“Fly, Dragonbane, I command you,” he shrieked.  “Protect me from the abomination that is Malifgorranaka!”

At the pinnacle of his spell, he released the blade into the air where it hovered just as the hourglass had earlier.  Only, rather than keeping time, this object’s purpose was much more deadly.

His knees wobbled beneath him and for the next few seconds, he fought to regain his strength.  The magic was taking its toll on his body, years from his life and it threatened to consume him with every spell he cast.  It was a price he was willing to pay, for once he had the box, these worries would be no more.

Safely hidden in the shadows behind him, a single red eye narrowed.

Book Signing on December 8th!

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WHO:  R. Richardsson

WHAT:  The Rise and Fall of John Rizzerio

WHEN:  3:00pm – 5:00pm

WHERE:  Topeka & Shawnee County Public Library

WHY:  I have been invited to participate in an event for local authors.

I first heard of this ‘Local Author Fair’ just a little under three weeks ago.  Frankly, I didn’t have very high hopes of being able to attend.  At the time it was brought to my attention, the library was already boasting over sixty authors in attendance!

But you never know if you don’t try, right?

It’s been my mantra for years and I definitely recommend giving it a try, because the truth is, you simply don’t.  You can’t know, and if you want something bad enough, you have to put yourself out there.

I’m about the most introverted person I know.  Digging up the courage to step forward with something I believe in isn’t always easy and rejection has been my biggest enemy for as long as I can remember.

While I am afraid to face this enemy, each time that I do I am able to stand taller on the other side of the encounter.  The thing about rejection, that I’ve learned, is that it is just a word.  “No.”  It can be a hurtful word, but no matter how it’s said, it doesn’t have the strength to take your chosen craft away from you.

I’ve had stories turned down by magazines.  I’ve also been given a negative (verbal) review of my work.  I’ve had time to look at things in retrospect and I’ve learned no matter what a few people might say, the majority still enjoy what I’m creating.

With this, I stood forward and contacted the hostess of the event. I had little hope that I would be able to attend the Local Author Fair, but I had to try.  When I received my first response, it seemed that my fears were going to be true.  She politely informed me that there were no more open spaces, but, if I left my information, I would be contacted with-in a couple weeks if an opening were to arise.

In my excitement I announced this on my social media, and why not?  Here was an event specially tailored for someone like myself.  Not only would I be surrounded my dozens of like-minded individuals, but there is also the potential for many more readers as well!

Those two weeks came and went, however, and I have remained quiet, patiently waiting for the word I was beginning to fear wouldn’t arrive.

“It was just too good to be true,” I thought.

But I couldn’t have been more wrong!  Late last night, the hostess contacted me and informed me of an opening, should I still want it.

…do I ever!

And with that being said; I’d like to invite any and all readers in the area to participate.  If you are coming from afar, I hope you’ll stop by my table and get to know a little more about my story.  I look forward to seeing you there!

R. Richardsson

“Never give up, and above all else, try!  You might be surprised what happens when you do.”