Skip to content

Dusk of Death

This is one of my favorite stories, and I was a finalist in BookEnds, LLC first ever Twitch contest with the pitch for this one, so I need to finish the edits and get it out there.

mock cover by NL Gervasio

Pitch: Demons, detectives, and a forensic scientist who has fallen from Hell. Hell wants her back. Let the demon hunt begin.

Status: Completed, in edits

Genre: Horror thriller

Synopsis:

When Armen Leza fell from Hell, demon hunting was the last thing on her mind, but when all Hell breaks loose, the fallen demon is humankind’s only salvation, as well as its possible end.

This is the short essay that inspired the story:

Skin

Such anguish I feel, such sorrow. Heartache, I am, that I break my own flesh and feel discontent with the world, so I hide beneath my quivering wing in hopes to block the malevolence from my vulnerability of reality. I am a tortured soul of times long past, centuries old and lost in a world unknown to me. Even my ancient wisdom cannot save me from the agony I feel mounting inside, swelling beyond its boundaries, growing into regret of things long lost to fate and destiny. A wing arm that braces me from falling supports my very soul from diving into the pits of Hell while my tail wraps around me to enclose a circle none are to enter. Wings shroud me with protection like a cloak of invisibility to hide my ache from this unknown land. Blonde locks spill like rivers over arms too tired to move that support my throbbing head.

My skin is tight with the act of atonement, yet ripe for destruction while I tear at the flesh with sharp nails. Blood trickles slowly down, as though teasing me with the dawn of life rather than the dusk of death, and I must ask myself if I am worthy of this grief I bear. I must ask myself if I am worthy of the life I live and the blood that flows through me. I must ask myself if I wish to continue on, or give up as I lie in this ball on the ground. I must understand that my pain is only temporary and that tomorrow will be a new day when I hold my head high and spread my wings. I am not the skin that covers these ancient bones. I am not the flesh that beneath lies a beating heart. I am the soul within, a soul not broken, a soul reborn from this torment. I will not bow to this pain, but I cannot promise that my skin will feel the same.


4 Comments
  1. christel42 permalink
    June 4, 2010 1:25 pm

    I totally want to read this!

  2. NL Gervasio permalink*
    June 4, 2010 2:15 pm

    Let me edit it. Wait, I posted this on WC ages ago. You didn’t read it? WTF, Christel? You’re slackin’. LOL

  3. christel42 permalink
    June 4, 2010 2:55 pm

    LMFAO. I probably did. Years ago. I am an asshat. I’m blaming the meds and fever-brain.

Trackbacks

  1. So, Here’s the Deal . . . « Jinxie's World

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: