Free Read: Stop me before I kill again

By Kensana Darnell

“We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell” ~Oscar ~Oscar Wilde~

 

Her horrified eyes stare back at me from beneath the murky waters.

With my hands tightly around her throat, she struggles. I hear her screams, intermitted between the gurgling water rushing past her lips.

I feel the blast of excitement electrifying my brain and fraying my emotions, igniting the sexually tormented demon inside me.

He likes this—no loves it. He is the part of me, the half that frightens my soul. He, is the part of me, I cannot stop—no matter how hard I try.

I look into my victim’s horror-stricken expression, I feel for her. I slightly release my grip, allowing her water filled lungs to seek refuge in the night air floating above.

“Please–” she gasped.

I didn’t respond. I only stared back at her, waiting for him to respond.

She rises to her feet, taking to the woods in a panicked disoriented run.

Again, I waited for the orders from within.

Get her!

Like a dog following the commands of its master, I leapt to my feet in pursuit of the woman. She wouldn’t get far, he’d made me take her shoes and clothing away. That’s how he liked to keep them.

She’s screaming.

Don’t let her get away!

I picked up speed to close the gap between the woman and myself. Mad laughter exploding inside my head, as I reached for her hair, forcing her to the ground. Crawling closer, I straddled her torso, pinning her naked body to the ground.

“Please, let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”

Her whimpering pleas, drilling deeply into my skull.

Kill her!

“Shut up. I won’t do it!”

Do it! Do it now!

I have to shut him up. I want…no I need him to stop talking.

I pull the blade from my jacket, its long blade shimmering in the moonlight, casting a reflection of light across the girl’s face.

Taking the knife in both hands, I hold it over my head. She’s screaming again.

Now!

The blade plunges into her chest, and blood spatters across my face as I turn the blade to open the wound.

Bloody sputum, dribbles down her cheek.

Silence. The voice is quiet. The demon has been satiated once more. How long until he speaks to me again? When will he demand another life to fulfill his pleasure?

Sirens.

I hear them speeding closer. Her screams. Someone must have heard.

Run.

I hear the voice trying to save me—try to save himself.

Run.

Should I flee? I can see the glimmer of red and blue lights now.

Run!

I pull the knife from her chest, and get to my feet. I know these woods like the back of my hands, getting to my car isn’t a problem. I break the wood line running at top speed. Safe behind the wheel, I watch the beams of light from the officer’s flashlights streak through the trees.

I put the car into reverse, making sure to leave the headlights off. I pull onto the road, switching them on only after I’m sure my freedom is safely is within reach. Looking down at the brightly lit fuel gage, I realize the car needs gas. I roll into an old mom and pop service station and begin to fill the tank as a royal blue beetle glides in at the pump opposite mine.

A young brunette climbs out of the car. She glances in my direction and smiles. “Hi.”

“Hello.” I reply. I watch her in the reflection of my car window. The way she brushes away the hair from the nape of her neck, every time the breeze blows. The curve of her long shapely legs, the crest of her breast, rising and falling beneath the cropped top she wore, called to it. My palms sweaty, heart is pounding, and then I hear him.

I want her.

“No.” I whisper.

Take her for me.

My head is pounding. I quickly climb back into the car.

I want her!

I don’t know how much longer I can resist him. I stare out of the car, my view falls on the girl once more. I can’t breathe.

“Oh God,” I pray, “please stop me, before I kill again.”

The Makings of Gideon: Mommy’s Little Helper

The next few years of Gideon’s’ life went on without any further interference from Olympus. Ares and Michael were there when Syria needed them just as they had promised. Gideon had grown into the spitting images of his fathers. From the raven black hair that curled around the back of his little ears to the deep blue eyes covered by long black eyelashes that brushed his cheeks when he blinked. There was nothing immortal about him. That is, until he began his third year of life.

Syria was busy cleaning the house with Gideon’s small helpful hands more o the hindrance than help, but she permitted him to help anyway. The family room was in dire need of a good sweeping so she grabbed the broom and went to work, trying not to wake her father who slept on the bed in the same room. It wasn’t long before she heard the gleeful sound of her son’s voice.

“Look mommy, I help.”

“Yes. Gideon help mom—”She turned to see her baby boy with her father’s bed held high above his head, with his grand-father still in it asleep. “Gideon!” She gasped, quickly covering her mouth. She didn’t want to startle him and make him drop the bed. “Gideon, sweetheart put papa bed on floor. You don’t want to wake him from his nap.”

“Mommy, I help.” A frown covered his chubby face.

“Yes baby I know, but Mommy has already cleaned there.” She hoped the little lie would get him to put the bed down without injuring her father.

“Ok Mommy, I put Papa down.” He lowered the bed back to the floor, rand over and gave Syria a big hug. She looked back at the bed her father still asleep.

Thank the Gods he’s a heavy sleeper.

She called to his fathers and they arrive in the blink of an eye. Michael had come alone but Ares appeared with a very stunningly beautiful woman on his arm. As flawless as she was she had to be a Goddess. Syria didn’t appreciate the intrusion of this stranger or the total lack of regard Ares showed in bringing her. Before she could confront him about, he spoke.

“Forgive me Syria, but we were on our way to Las Vegas when I heard your call. We came as quickly as we could.”

“Yes, please forgive my intrusion, I mean no disrespect. My name is Brighid, I am the Goddess of Healers and Poets, among other things. It is an honor to meet you.” The beauty said.

Syria calmed herself, under the circumstances she had no reason to be upset with Brighid or Ares. She and the God of War had no ties other than the soon they had created together.

“Pleased to meet you Brighid.”

Gideon came running when he saw both of his fathers arrive. He ran to Michael who plucked him up from the ground, swung him up to the heavens, and caught him in a loving hug.

“How are you my angel?”

Gideon was occupied with the beautiful lady with Ares. “Pretty lady, daddy.”

“Yes she is very pretty.” Michael agreed placing the fidgety tot back to the ground.

Gideon walked over to Brighid, tugged on the flowing tresses of her gown. The goddess kneeled down. “You are a cute one aren’t you?”

Gideon’s chubby hand caressed her cheek. “Pretty.”

“And a lot like your father I see.” She laughed.

Ares called to his son. “Come little one.” He scooped Gideon up into his muscular arms. “Have you been giving your mother a trouble?”

“Yes Syria, what has given you caused to call upon us?” Michael asked.

Syria recapped the story for the two men. They both looked back at the innocent youth, trying to figure out a way to explain to a three-year-old toddler the strength he possessed. Most of all they had to make him understand how easily it would be to hurt someone if he wasn’t careful.

They left the two women and took their son aside to begin the first lesson of many to come in how to control his powers.

Undeniable Gift: Pt III

             “Please.” She begged.            

“Silence child. We mean you no harm. We are here to assure my grandson’s safe arrival into this—“She exhaled, an air of distaste on wind. “Mortal world of yours.”

            “As are we.” A voice behind them, professed.

            The deities spun around. They expected to see an Archangel, but they did not expect to see three.  His wings spread full and wide, Michael stood firm, with Raphael—the Archangel of healing, and to his left and Gabriel–the Archangel of strength and power of God.

            A fireball formed in Ares’ palm, behind her brother, Discord drew lightning at her fingertips. Hera stepped forward and raised her hand. “Ares, Discord.” Obeying their mother’s command, the two absorbed their elemental weapons. “So this is the archangel that has plagued our house?” She said boldly.

            As if she had said nothing, Michael focused his attention on Syria. “Raphael.”

            Without so much as one word, the angel moved around her to tend to Syria. “I am Raphael, are you all right my sweet?”

            Breathing became short and sporadic, as the pain took hold of her. She seized on to the angel’s hand in desperation. “The baby—is—coming.”

            “Syria, look into my eyes,” he said.

            Her eyes locked with his, a flow of warmth traveled over her body. Slowly, the pain subsided. The breath she once gasps for returned to her.

            “Allow him to come forth.” She heard Michael’s voice in her ear.

            Under the watchful eyes of three archangels, and three Olympians, the demigod angel known as Gideon, entered the mortal world.   

* * *

            The most important birth to both Heaven and Olympus had finally occurred. Raphael wrapped the child inside a blanket and placed him inside his mother’s arms. She opened the blanket. A pair of brilliant blue-green eyes, hooded by long thick eyelashes stared back at her. Hair as black and silky as a raven’s wings covered his head.

            Ares moved towards her and the baby, Gabriel moved in closer. “I am merely attempting to see my son,” Ares responded. Michael passed a nod of approval to Gabriel and he stepped aside. Ares kneeled down next to Syria. He reached for Gideon, but she withdrew. Michael placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

             “It’s all right.”

            She placed the child in Ares’ arms. He stood and held the child against him. Hera and Discord stepped up beside him. He passed the child to Hera.

            “He’s perfect Ares. Even with what the poor child has as genetic makeup.” She cast a disapproving glance at Michael. “Well…he is my grandson.” 

            “Yes, thank the goddess for your part in this dear brother.” Discord laughed. “Father absolutely must see him. Oh Ares, he is the perfect addition to our family, an Olympian prince.”

 

Undeniable Gift: Pt II

“How dare you interfere in my affairs?” Ares withdrew his sword, a ball of fire formed in his palm.

A bright blue light illuminated from Michael, it surrounded himself and Syria. The fireball burned through the room, on a path to Syria. A swing of Michael’s mighty sword distinguished the flames. The God of War stared in disbelief.

“Ares do not mistake my forbearance as a sign of weakness. I will destroy you if need be. I will not let your harm her or the child.”

“The child is as much mine as it yours. He is the heir to the throne of the God of Thunder and nothing will change that. “

“He may be the heir to the throne but he’ll rule over Olympus over my dead body.” Syria cried out.

The muscle in Ares’ jaw tightened in anger. “Mind your tongue Syria, you may find your wish come true. This isn’t over angel. Not by a long shot.” In a bellow of black smoke and lightening he was gone.

Michael offered Syria his hand. “Can you stand?”

“Yes.” She grasped onto his hand and pulled herself up. She glanced down at her belly.

“He’s fine,” Michael said.

“He. You both refer to the baby as ‘he’.”

“The child you bear within your belly is male. A mighty warrior he shall become and he shall be called, Gideon.”

“Gideon? How do you know this?” Syria asked.

“It is has been written. He will be the perfect blend of mortal and immortal, more powerful than Ares and myself.”

Syria trusted in Michael’s word, the savior of her father’s life. He was her rescuer from Ares’ lethal storm of vengeance, but a child more powerful than its father’s. How could she raise such a child? Moreover, how could she raise a child with that much power on her own?

Her glance cast over Michael. “What if—what if he’s like Ares?”

“Unfortunately, his temperament will be paired with that of both his fathers. However, is also human, he will possess the power of free will. No one and nothing can take that away from him. The definition of his character will be defined by the choices he makes. He must choose his own path.” He approached her. “Syria, do not worry, you are not alone in this. I will be here when you need me, when he needs me. You only need to call to me.” A flash of blue light illuminated around him, he extended his wings and took to the skies.

She was aglow with the radiance of happiness. Her pregnancy continued over the next nine months almost without incident. She was in the village gardens when a familiar dark cloud of smoke appeared beneath the trees. She took to her feet and began to run.

“Syria, stop!” The God of War demanded.

She continued to run, the weight of her rounded belly did not allow as quick a pace as she preferred. She cleared the apple trees, a dark whirlwind pummeled towards her. The last swirls of the tornado faded and brought forth Discord—goddess of Strife, sister of Ares. In her hasty retreat, Syria lost her footing and fell. Her impact softened by the garden’s plush grass. Shimmering silk tresses flowing on the breeze drew attention. Her gaze traveled up the extension of the stola. There was no mistaken, beautiful and majestic, Hera–the Queen of Gods and Goddesses stood before her. Ares and Discord joined their mother’s side.

The Makings of Gideon will not be broadcast today…

I must apologize, but due to the illness of my authoress, this week’s installment of  “The Makings of Gideon,” didn’t make it to press this morning. Instead we offer you something a little different in honor of this season. ~Gideon

 

A Dark Discovery

(Unedited)

Professor John Albright and his students had been in Iraq for over a year. During this time, they had learned to dodge mortar rounds and the occasional insurgent attack, to continue with their dig. They had moved from dig site to dig in hopes to find the one myth that no one had proved did not exist-Pandora’s Box. After the Gods had imprisoned The Evils once more, it was believed they had buried in Iraq. If he could find that box, it would be his most glorious find.

“Professor Albright we’ve found something,” Megan yelled. Megan Stewart was a student of Professor for three years, his assistant for two of those. There was nothing she enjoyed more, than jumping into a pit to unearth the world’s greatest treasure. She had dedicated her life to it.

The students stood around the dig site. They had been searching and digging for six months and had found nothing until now. Professor John Albright ran over to see what the students had uncovered. He took a brush from one of them as he stepped down into the pit. The still lodged in the sandy dirt, laid a partially uncovered box. He brushed the dirt from around the box. “Oh my God.”

“Professor is it…could it be?” Megan asked.

“Help me get it out of the ground.”

Megan stepped closer to assist him with the recovery. They cleared the remaining dirt away from the box. Megan reached down and lifted the jar from the dirt. She held it with both hands and walked toward the professor. The amazement over their find held her attention in a trance, she tripped over an equipment bag which threw her off balance. She lost grip of the jar and it slipped from her fingers.

The professor rushed to catch the box before it fell to the ground. It grazed his fingertips   as it crashed to the ground. The dig party stood frozen staring at the splinters of the box across the sand. The clouds overhead went black, the air turned stale, not a sound could be heard through the air.  A dead silence fell over the desert. A heavy black smoke rose from where the remains of the jar rested. It surrounded the dig party, screams of pain and agony filled Professor Albright’s ears.

Megan attempted to break free from the cloud, “Professor…please help… “Blood streamed from her eyes and ears.

While the professor watched in terror as the bodies of his class members dismembered before him.  He dropped to his knees, horrified by the site. “Dear God what have we done?”

He covered his eyes to hide from the gruesomeness of death that appeared displayed upon the golden desert sands. When the screams stopped, he lowered his hands from his face. In front of him the cloud at broken into seven large entities, their eyes flashed brilliant amber. One of them stepped forward.

“Where are we?”

 

Undeniable Gift

Part I

Syria awoke the next morning, an air of happiness and contentment surrounding her. Her thoughts wondered back to the wonderful night she spent with Michael. Mere words could not express how happy he made her. Thoughts of him grazed through her mind, she still felt the caress of his wings on her skin. Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by another yet vision, Ares. A bolt of pain seared through her belly. She fell to her knees crying out in agony.

It was a dream, only a dream.

 The recollection of last night scorched a trail of unwanted memories across her mind. She remembered. She remembered it all. Her heart denied what her mind finally grasped as the truth. She had been with Michael that she clearly knew but Ares…he had entered her dreams. In the midst of her joy he broke through, shattered it and taken her.

“Oh God.” She slammed her fist against the floor, she clutched her stomach as another pain ripped through her. “Oh God, no!”

“God has nothing to do with this Syria, unless of course you are referring to me.”

The voice above taunted her as she fought through the pain. Her gaze locked on Ares sprawled across her bed. “Ares, what have you done?”

“What have I done? I have given you the greatest gift of all. That is what I’ve done. I wanted to give you the world and this…this is how you repay me? ”

“It’s not right. The child will be an abomination.”

“Abomination? How dare you speak of our child this way. You created this atrocity by lying with that thing. He’s not even a man.” He jumped from the bed. “He’s not even a woman. He threw backed his head, thunderous laughter filled the room. “As you can see…” he extended his arms and displayed his full glory, “I am more man than he could ever be.”

“Michael will not stand for this!” She gasped in agony.

“Michael? My dear Syria, do you think I fear this—Archangel of yours? I care not what he will or will not stand for; he is of no concern to me. I am the God of war, I fear no one and nothing.”

“You should fear him Ares, you should tremble at the mere mention of his name. He commands the Army of God.”

He raised an eyebrow and exhaled. “Syria I grow tired of this game. I can make the pain stop just submit to me. We will raise this child on Olympus where it belongs or you can continue to suffer.” He held a tightly clutched fist over her head and the throbbing increased.

The spasms ripped through her. When Syria could no longer bear the pain, she fell to the floor and cried out. Tears streamed down her cheeks onto the cold wooden floor.

“Surrender yourself to me Syria!” He yelled, lightning crackled from his fingertips. “I will tolerate this insolence no longer.”

With what little strength she could muster, she answered, “I will not. I would rather die than spend an eternity with you.”

Ares’ anger was beyond control. He drew his sword from its sheath. “Then, my dear Syria, I shall grant you your last request.”

Syria cowered beneath his wrath, as the death blade sliced through the air with great force. She did not plead for her life; she only breathed a silent prayer, “The Sword of Michael protects me. His cloak and shield covers me. The energy of the angels strengthens me. Righteousness and love lights my path.”

She heard the clash of steel meeting steel, sparks flew overhead. The murderous steel did not pierce her mortal flesh. She did not feel as much as a prick. She descried not only Ares’ rapier, but a sword which blazed a brilliant silvery blue flame suspended above her head. She followed the span of the blade to the hands of its owner.

“Michael.”

“Syria, I am here.”

Trinity’s Child – Part II

Seria sat by the well drawing water when she heard a voice, “Seria.”

The bucket of water fell from her hands. She rose to her feet and backed away from the well; she looked around but saw no one. “”Who is there?” Her voice trembled with fear.

 “Seria, do not fear me.”

“I only fear that which I cannot see, please reveal yourself.”

“I will come to you within the night, until then my dear Seria.”

That night a visitor came to Seria in her slumber. She awoke from the familiar sound of rustling wings. She looked to her open window to see the Archangel Michael appear. His magnificent wings blocked the moonlight shimmering through the window darkening the room. Seria could see the outline of his figure as he moved closer to her bedside.

“Michael,” she whispered.

“Yes my sweet, it I. You have taken possession of my heart dear Seria.”

“As you have taken mine, I cannot explain it. I have felt emptiness without you. How is this possible?”

He took her hands in his, “I wish I could answer your questions, but I cannot. I would die and angel’s death to be with you. You have broken through the one great love. My God.”

“I cannot allow you to betray your God. I am but a humble mortal.”

“I love my God and nothing will ever change that, but he has allowed me to see you. It is by his will I am permitted to do this; I have but one night my sweet. ”

Seria sat in silence. I cannot send him away. The words formed in her mind, unable to reach her lips.

As if he had heard the unspoken words answered, “Then let us not waste this night.” He took her into his arms.

His wings engulfed Seria and they floated into the heavens. She had never experienced a feeling such as this. Shivers of delight caressed her flesh, as Michael traced a trail of gentle kisses down the nape of her neck. She returned his kiss, enjoying the sensations that surrounded her. The aroma of chocolate filled her nose, with an essence of sweet vanilla. Was it all in her mind? It was Michael, he was everything she loved and he, this Archangel loved her. She could feel it with every brush of his hand.

“Do you accept me?” He whispered in her ear.

“Yes,” her response carried on a breath of pure pleasure. She gasped when the angel took her, but the pain diminished as quickly as it has come, replaced by unadulterated ecstasy.

* * *

Ares paced across the marble floor of the great hall. He stopped in the center of the room, “I must see her!” He opened a portal to earth, and what he saw infuriated the God of War. The Olympian blood in his veins boiled to pure unadulterated anger. “How could she lie with this, this…Angel?” Ares exploded, bolts of lightning streamed from his fingers tips. “She will pay…and pay dearly.” In a cloud of black smoke and lightning, he passed through the portal to Earth.

He stepped through the portal to Seria’s bedroom. Ares stood over the bed, as he watched her sleep, she smiled.

She spoke, “I love you Michael.”

Ares could not believe what he heard. He placed his hand on Seria’s stomach; he could feel the waves of life beginning to form. “I will not let you have her Archangel!”

He waved his hand over her head and entered her dream. He broke through her dreams of happiness, shattered them to pieces as he took possession of her. What Seria would later remember as a nightmarish thought, would turn out to be a dream and a nightmare come true.

The Makings of Gideon

The Beginning

Half God, Half Angel, Archangel to be specific, Gideon was created out of love but also out of envy. You see Gideon is the son of a beautiful human woman by the name of Seria and the Commanding Archangel himself, Michael. Therefore, to tell you how I came to know Gideon you must first understand where and how he came to be.

* * *

Seria lived in Anatolia with her father Mephius. They had very little money, a lived a meager life of a peasant. Seria’s mother Bethany had passed on when she was barely three years of age. Her father raised her with a strong will yet a soft hand. She loved her father as much as life itself, but Mephius was long on years on and short on health. Seria knew it would be only a matter of time before he too would die and she’d be alone.

Ares, God of war sat on high at his father’s side, admiring Seria from the clouds. He would visit her in her dreams. His attempts to entice her were ignored. Seria wanted no parts of the God or the riches and pleasures that he had to offer. Her rejection angered Ares. He was the son of Zeus would not accept dismissal from a mere mortal andsurely not a woman. She would pay for her insolence.

Seria’s worst fear came true when her father fell ill. She prayed to the God’s to give her father more time but received no response. After no response from the Gods she attempted to appeal to Ares’ mercy.

She ran to the temple and cried out to Ares, “God of warfare, bloodlust, and slaughter, hear me my lord.”

A bright light blinded Seria, the God of War appeared carried by a quadriga drawn by four gold-bridled fire-breathing immortal stallions. He wore armor made of bronze and brandished a spear of battle within his hand, he removed the battle helmet from his head. His long raven black hair fell to his shoulders, he tucked the helmet under his arm.

“What is it you ask of me Seria?” His deep voice resonated off the temple walls.

The vibrations sent a tremble through Seria’s body. She dropped to her knees before him, “My Lord, please forgive me my past digression, I meant no disrespect. My father has fallen ill and I have prayed to the Gods to return his health, but they have not answered.”

“And they shall not!” Ares response was cold, and empty. “They have done as I and my father has commanded, they will not answer you.”

“Why, why would you do such a thing?” Her voice barely a whisper, a trail of tears streamed from her eyes.

“Why? You refused me, me Ares God of War, son of Zeus.” His voice rocked the pilliars of the the sanctuary.

“My father should not have to pay for my uncertainties. I beg of you Ares please spare my father.”

Ares looked down upon Seria, an evil, maniacal grin spread across his face, “I cannot, I will not. Suffer the consequences of your misgivings.” He snapped the golden bridle and the stallions lurched to life, the chariot burst through the clouds and Ares was gone.

Seria left the temple tears streamed down her face, thoughts of her father’s impending death loomed through her mind.

Fear not Seria, all will be well.

Seria looked to the heavens, past Olympus. Out of the darkness, she heard the flapping of wings, but not that of a bird, they were larger. He appeared from the clouds and landed at her feet.

“Who are you?” She took a step back.

“I am he who is like unto God. I am he who is equal to God. I am the Archangel Michael. Death will not befall your father this night.”

~ Written by Kensana Darnell ~