The Culling – Creative Writing

‘Dear God…’ the mayor screamed, as he crawled out from under his desk and pulled open the draw to reveal a steel dagger point, ‘…forgive me,’ he cried as he charged at the beast’s stomach. The only spectator, a smartly dressed Indian who sat like a statue in the shadows at the back of the hall. The hideous beast knocked the weapon from his attacker’s hand and leapt onto the mayor’s back. Though well built, the mayor’s struggles were no match for the beast, and he soon crashed to the floor under the immense weight.
‘I had a wife and child,’ He begged for mercy as the snarling beast rammed his face into the blood-smeared floor, snapping his jaw in two. ‘So did my father, sir.’ The Indian reminded the dying man, still there at the back of the hall but with a voice that boomed. ‘But…’ the mayor begged for help from the Indian one last time, though his plea was unheard mainly because of the fact the mayor had a mouthful of blood and broken teeth.
The mayor stared at the severed head of a pretty young female; whose body still sat upright over in the line of chairs. Mirrored in her eyes he could see the destruction of all those who he had known. The pretty girl had been the first to die, and he would be the last. Something punctured the side of the mayor’s neck; he felt like he was drowning as his lungs filled with blood. He was left to watch the girl’s face sink into blackness as his light was snuffed out in the bloodiest of ways.

The Indian sat emotionless, his white suit unmarked despite the destruction which had unfolded in front of him. He watched the beast play with the dead mayor like a rag doll, and listened to its screams of pleasure, he had watched the carnage without any remorse. These people had driven his ancestors off their land and murdered his family, this was the only way in which their souls would be put at rest. When the beast ripped out the still warm heart of the Mayors did he allow a smile of satisfaction, then a command for the organ to be crushed.
From his pocket, the Indian pulled out a charm which was small, black, and made from some sort of stone it was also in the rough shape of the beast itself. ‘Fugue Santen…’ He began to chant in his ancient tongue, the beast stood still. The Indian rose from his chair and made his way through the bodies towards the beast. ‘Lasa imenzes…’ his voice filled the hall as he worked the ancient magic with his chants. He held the amulet in front of him, staring up into the eyes of the beast, which then turned to walk toward the Indian, towering head and shoulders above the Indian, unable to avoid the Indians hypnotic stare.
The Indian had finished his spell. The town hall was silent once again but suddenly, a blinding flash of the most immense light came from the charm the indian had in his hand. The light blinded the beast with its beauty. The beast raised its arms in front of its face in defence, and then slowly the beast dropped onto its knees and began to walk on all fours back toward the wooden carving from which it had sprung to life. The Indian sighed and knew he had to work fast to collect the souls of his victims, which hovered in the attic above him.
Until the last soul had been captured the Indians quest for vengeance would not be over. He left the mayors soul till last for the Mayor had been his main target. The Mayor had been the instrument of the death from which the order for his family’s death had come. The charm warm in his palm, soon grew uncomfortably hot as he used its powers to collect the souls of his victims, he needed to avenge his family who had been murdered by the hand of the settlers less than half a century ago.
So called men of God, who had slain his family and left him to starve in the mountains. He would have starved, had it not been for the witch who had found him and looked after him as her own, while also teaching him the ancient native Indian magic needed to avenge his family’s death. Now the act of revenge was complete, the Indian had no purpose in life, his goal had been accomplished. The Indian knelt down on the steps leading up to the town hall, pulled out the sacrificial knife which his ancestors had once used and gave up his life in the hope he would once again be reunited with the souls of his ancestors. As the Indians blood dripped down the steps, his spirit soared as it was reunited with his brothers and sisters.
The Mayor waited for quiet, noting the next number on the item list. As the labourer wheeled the small wooden crate into the crowded village hall the crowd fell silent. “the vengeful guardian.” he introduced the item to the bidders as the man opened the hinged crate to reveal the impressive carving within. ‘A fine example of a early Native American Indian carvings.’ The Mayor paused to read the description of the item; ‘Hand carved from forest Cedar.’ An amused look came upon the mayors face, ‘I wouldn’t want to wake him with insults, so we’ll start the bidding at five hundred dollars. Do I see five hundred and ten?’ the mayor asked, he scanned the faces of the townsfolk, their eyes still fixed on the carving. The Mayor noticed that a crack had appeared on the carving it ran straight down the middle. Suddenly a beam shot out of the crack, splitting the carving straight in two. Women began to scream people ran for the exits, but the doors were locked.
Meanwhile, at the back of the hall an Indian man in a suit finished his pipe, then quietly moved in to the shadows behind him. His whispered chants going unnoticed as he began to rub at an object inside his jacket pocket. The first victim of the beast was the girl nearest, a beautiful young girl. She was in shock unable to move as the beast swung its razor sharp claws and severed the girl’s head in one deadly accurate blow.
The Indian was amused when watching the townsfolk and their feeble efforts to escape their inevitable doom…

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