Stars of Shareware: Animation & Sound/SOS-ANIM_SOUND.ISO/archiv/ice_0593.zip/LIT.ZIP/MS-HENGE.LIT

Text File | 1993-05-09 | 4KB | 58 lines

PhoneHenge
By Midnight Sorrow [iCE] January 11, 1993


The altar to the gods was now complete.  And you were to be its' first
sacrifice.  A young girl from a nearby village, you had grown up in the
monument's shadow, always keenly aware of the whispered tales of unspeakable
evil which have surrounded this area like a shroud, from its' first day of
inception.  Standing in solitary misery, nervously pacing about the confines
of your cramped cell, you gaze about in disbelief at the chaos which the
Druids have caused.  Dead or dying bodies lie everywhere, a grim testament to
the evil brutality of this ancient sect of priests.  Crows and vultures, that
vile portent of recent demise, flutter about the bodies with an obvious
purpose, occasionally settling down to a corpse and ripping off a chunk of
rotting flesh.  Turning inward now, seeking the calm fortress of your soul,
you begin to turn back, and think of a better day.  You think back to your
family, your village, the land in which you grew up.  You think of your
lover, Nallen.  It was only to have been a week, and the two of you would
have been wed.  Curse your virginity, your femininity, your whole life.

A loud crash shatters your peace, bringing you hurtling out of your reverie.
Two monstrously built guards enter the cell, and, silently ignoring your
vicious protestations, easily carry you out as if you were nothing but a
small hen to be slaughtered.  You scream, you cry, you helplessly shriek your
rage at your impending death.  They carry you up to the monument, and
brutally slam you down onto a cold slab of rock.  One guard holds you down,
effortlessly, as you strain and fight with all remaining strength, desperate
now to regain your freedom.  The other guard places a leather strap around
your wrists, your ankles, your neck, and instantly binds you to what is to be
your final resting place.  The two guards, their purpose fulfilled, now step
away, leaving you, fearful, crying, alone in your agony.

Time stretches.  Minutes seem like decades.  Seconds crawl by as years.  It
seems to be eons before you notice a line of figures walking towards you.
Twenty cloaked apparitions emerge from the mist, and form a circle within the
monstrous stone slabs of this altar of madness.  One of them steps away,
slowly approaches you, chanting incantations to some ancient, unspeakable god
of darkness.  As he comes closer, he reaches within his cloak to reveal a
vicious, evil dagger, a wicked creation, designed only to cease life.  Now
you are truly aware of what is about to occur.  You struggle against the
bindings, though it is futile.  You are trapped.

The chanting reaches a peak, as the mage brings the dagger up.  You voice one
final, sad prayer to your family.  The dagger plummets down.  It seems to
take an incredibly long time to travel down, down, down.  Time stops.  You
feel the blade pierce your breast, the jagged metal viciously incising your
skin.  You can feel the dagger go deep into your chest, and you are
vitally aware as it penetrates your heart.  Blood gushes forth from the wound
as the knife is removed.  You give one last, piteous moan, as blood spews
from your body, draining your life away with a fierce rapidity.  Your vision
fades, and your consciousness dies.  Your last thought, as you slide deeper
and deeper into the void which awaits you, is that you shall eternally remain
a part of this blasphemous creation, this vile apparition upon earth, this
place that they call....


             P H O N E  H E N G E . . .