Noon at Central

A tall man in rags stood in the center of the packed train station. “Nobody move!”

He seemed to resemble a homeless man: his person dirty, garments torn and tattered, unshaven—beard wild and wooly. A once bright orange ball cap—now dingy and stained by the elements, hid his thinning, shoulder length, mangy and matted hair. A worn and weathered jungle camouflage jacket bulked unevenly—suggesting he was clearly hiding something underneath. His pockmarked blue jeans reflected the coldness in his tone. Black military boots were stained with a reddish brown, and seemed to poison the ground in which he stood upon.

Everyone halted and gazed upon him in uncertainty, fear, and horror. The once bustling massive train station ground to a complete halt; albeit, the security guards that slowly made their way towards the man, meandering through the stifling crowd, careful not to arouse suspicion of themselves.

A twisted wrought iron clock stood watching behind the man, chiming brilliantly. It’s hands, uplifted in unison, ringing to twelve. Slowly, the man turned his head towards the clock. His body convulsed momentarily, his head flogging side to side and back to front. Then, a complete and utter stillness befell him and the entire station.

“It’s time. . . Time is at hand and you all will soon know him—to know us all.” The man grinned wickedly as he slowly reached into his coat. He withdrew a wire that connected to a vest of various explosives: C4, dynamite, packages of nails, ball bearings and other assorted metallic objects, all that crudely lined the man. Upon the instant of seeing their lives threatened into extinction, shrieks of terror erupted—the train station fluttered into a frenzy.

A loud guttural growl echoed through out the hall, a growl that turned into a vicious, maniacal laughter. “It’s no use! There is no escape!”

The man’s body violently began to shake: his head shook side to side, while his body convulsed uncontrollably [but still] he stood perfectly erect. Finally, his body erupted and became engulfed in a hellish green and red fire. His skin charred and had turned to leather. Spots of jet pockmarked his entire body, then sprouted into small horns and thorns. Curled horns of ash and fire sprouted from the sides of his skull. Where two arms had once been, four had grown in succession. He flexed his new finesse, roaring in utter savagery. His eyes raged, a flickering red-gold; the corner of his eyes suggested a newfound sadistic glee. The man whom had once existed, now stood in defiance of what was created, before man, as its end.

People stood in awe; such a strange, fascinating creature, or perhaps it was the sheer terror of something so unnatural before them all, something terribly hungry, or that a myth was so undeniably real. . . The hellish beast stood gazing at its spectators, an immovable mountain of mass. He flashed a rabid, toothy grin; saliva ran  down its chin and maw.

“What. . .the. . .hell. . .” a person muttered aloud as it stared upon the beast.

“Ha ha, poor fleshling. How so. . .clever you are,” the monster snarled in response.

He gave a slight nod to an unseen spectator. Unknown to them all; a gravely appalling figure stood on the side of the abomination; watching, waiting. Its grim dark hood hid its face. The only suggestion revealed was its ghostly hands: one that held a firm hand on the demon, while the other clung to a twisted bone-formed scythe, the blade—dull, rusted, and blood gorged.

The phantasm tilted his scythe towards the masses. “Let it begin,” a low, raspy voice echoed from within the pitch-black hood, unfettering, unforgiving, unmerciful and unyielding.

The hell spawn nodded in compliance. In a second, with a ‘click’ of the button on the bomb vest, the train station had ignited into a raging hellish inferno. Screams of agony and terror flooded the halls, everywhere. Those near the concussion eventually died. However, it was not to their liking, nor was it instant. They burned slowly, roasting and sweltering from the hungry flames that devoured them. Cracking bones and sinew resounded in the great hall. Together with the screams of agony, terror, and the laughter of the hooded one. People jumped in vain, in front of the few still running trains to attempt at halting the suffering of being burnt alive. One by one, trains collided with one another, further exploding down tunnels. Tunnels laid ablaze. Some were lucky if they collapsed on themselves. The putrid stench of burnt flesh, bodily fluids, and waste wafted to the outside world. Piles of corpses sweltered and smoldered. A crimson haze of the blood boiled in the air, and smeared trails that split every way.

The ghastly figure smiled crookedly underneath that placid hood of his. He turned into the blaze and began slowly walking away with a new destination in mind.

A spark was made, and it had begun to set wildfire across the world. Chaos’ reign had begun, but first, the eradication of man. With nothing to save us. . .for now.

Author: Sincados

Writer, gamer, foodie, brew enthusiast, and awesome dad. Also likes to make explosions...but not in any particular order.

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