The Bleak Walker

It was a tower made of flesh fibers. The spiral tower came from the bottom of the ocean and has reached the clouds. Flesh fibers that were intertwined into coupled ropes were dragging corpses from a nearby landmass. These long ropes were taking all living flesh inside the spheroid shape mouth located at the base of the tower where they were deposited.

The tiled roofs were destroyed and the road which was paved with concrete was torn apart.

On the street were slimy, grotesque, and plastic-like creatures, they have teeth on their bodies, their limbs were also covered in scales. The sides of the streets had intestines, livers, and human organs splattered on the walls. In the houses were pools of blood, and there were machetes, muskets, and rifles torn to shreds, the butt of the rifle was near a man whose face was stripped, torn by something.

On the roofs were broken nails. There were remnants of stripped flesh on the gutters of the street. There was a sound of gunfire in every corner of this particular town. There were screams and death throes that would echo around the chaotic town. The whip-like sound that the tower does as it unleashes its myriads of tangible limbs could be heard over and over again.

The sunlight bounced off the ground. The heat haze made it seem like the roads were being heated. There was clanging of metal and on the far eastern part of this town; was a large fire that encompassed a whole district. Soldiers, who were surrounded by oblong-head creatures with plastic-like scales, were stabbed and eviscerated as time passes. They were killed off one by one. A soldier fought well, pouncing on the walls, avoiding the whip-like limbs that were chasing him. He got hit right in the cheek, the whip-limb digging through his chest cavity, his heart stabbed, and popped out of his chest. The soldier went limp, he was smashed on the concrete, and his body became a brush that was used to paint the color of blood on the floor. Smokes rose from everywhere, shouts of men and women continued amongst the hubbub of gunfire and explosion. Wet squishy sound, the smell of blood, and burnt flesh permeated the air, wafting into the noses of the people who are running around.

A woman tried to run out of the town, her skin was caught by worm-like creatures covered in fin-shaped bones, the woman, who was trying to run away, had her skin torn, her left boob bitten, and the rest of her torso chewed, as she was dragged to the hole where the creature appeared. The outskirts of the town became a breeding ground of worms that would chew on human skin with ease. Those who could barely be called human were still stripped of their fur and hide, their flesh melted in acid before being completely devoured by these worms.

Waist-size creatures with beak-like heads ran amok the tight corners of the town. They carried bone knives as they hunt, catch, and scalp their enemies. Shadowy figures shaped like humanoids ran across the roof, a man, who looks like he was on his forties were fighting these shadows, blocking their attacks, parrying, and countering as he could. He sprinted along the roofs, avoiding the whip-like limbs, narrowly dodging them by using the windows, the doors, and any obstacles that might hinder the tangible limbs. He carried a rifle with a drum magazine, attached to the butt was a makeshift club he has been using to defend himself on close range. The man was wounded, his breathing ragged, his eyes however burned with the rage of fire.

He swathed a shadowy figure. His right arm, being gashed at a result. His hands were tinted red, his wounds deep, and his back covered in scratches and fragments from the creatures that he fought.

He decorated a shadowy figure with holes. He wended his way along the alleys, skulked through enemies, fought until his rifle ran dry out of ammunition. He chucked the rifle away, went to a shop, pulled a machete, and cauterized his wounds with the coals he found lying near the grills. He was covered in burns, his eyes, however, did not shook, and he did not squeal or utter any painful cries.

He continued plodding, stealthily passing through enemies, and taking down anything that he could. From below and above, to corners and from covers. The man did not utter any word other than:

“Do not lie down; do not sleep; hold on to your body. Do not think; do not put your mind on anything or anyone.”

He continued until he reaches a barbican made of flesh. A figure made of bones and sinews of flesh stood, his bony hand holding on to the neck of the remains. She was missing her limbs, her breasts, and what was left was her spine, neck, and head. Her eyes were scooped out, her tongue missing, and ears removed. The woman’s head was still wet with tears. The creature holding on to it shook the head as if it was a bell.

The man did not react. He only moved forward and faced the enemy.

“Foolish.”

The man’s leg was hit by the whip. It was bent in an unnatural direction. The whip-like limbs returned, this time, the arms of the man on his forties were twisted like a rope. He was flat on his chest. He crawled using his torso, not muttering any cry of pain, just staring at the creature who was able to put him down.

“What can a limbless man do but flail? Ah, you really can’t bring old warriors down so easily.”

Another spear-like limb pinned the man right on the floor. He vomited a mouthful of blood, he took a rest for a second, before tearing his body out of being pinned, not minding his tearing flesh. The creature guffawed, arched its back and pointed at the clown who was crawling at him.

“Come on now, clown, can’t you do better than that? I expected great things, and yet...you disappoint me truly.”

The tree limbs that came from the barbican made of flesh lifted the man. His helpless body thrown inside the creature that the bony being stood on. The being threw the head of that woman inside. His candlelight eyes flickering coldly.