I have been putting off submitting a little creative writing to add to the ever expanding contest and universe of "A Tale of Two Pizzas" by @dibblers.dabs . Despite the title the story is driven by the community in creative directions and isn't just about PIZZA, so this is my addition to that little competition. To add a random plot element. This post is also to highlight the cool contest itself and the community driven world therein. Check it out on @dibblers.dabs blog for the complete archive and updates. He also has some sweet sweet prizes for those who do well in the weekly submission. Without further or do, here it is.
The Rise of Pi'Za
The dew was cold and the grass soaked Cyril's jeans. The marsh was damp and buzzing with blood-sucking insects. Cyril slapped his neck and looked at his palm to see a mangled mosquito.
"This better be worth it." he thought to himself. "Exploring some hunch about some olives, what a bunch of nonsense. This location is far too hard to get through let alone with cargo". He had never even met the Baron, not even his lieutenants. Cyril was green to the syndicate, so he tended to go on goose chases out into the middle of nowhere to check on nothing and get nowhere. No one trusted him with a real assignment.
"Most of them still call me Cecil, sending me out to the boonies knowing full well it's a bum tip" he muttered to himself as he pushed aside hanging willow branches and trudged through the grass and mud. "I guess no one trusts new blood". As he said this to himself, as if on que, he entered a clearing in the marsh surrounded by large willows, thick with reeds, and with a dilapidated manor at the center.
"Smuggling olives out of a Louisiana swamp, let alone this deathtrap". he mused. "Utter nonsense. Under our noses, well our nose is in the middle of nothing"
The plantation style manor was decaying, ancient, and riddled with moss. The pillars and rafters looked as if they would collapse merely under their own weight.
He trudged forward through the grass and reeds to approach the desiccated building to give it a quick look over and head back. When he started to hear what he thought sounded like faint voices coming from the manor, and when he strained his ears to listen. He couldn't deny his suspicions and drew his pistol.
"Well I'll be damned. There are people out here, so much for another goose chase." He concluded as he crouched amid the reeds and grass and slowly crept to try and peer in through one of the mossy openings what must have once been a window. As he got closer he could tell it wasn't just talking, but more of a monotone chant.
He leaned next to the opening and slowly peeked his head through the opening. He glimpsed inside and his eyes grew wide. Right there in what would've been the ballroom in a different time, was a group of people in hoods chanting over some sort of altar. The room was dim but the floor was encompassed in candles. Cryil's hand shook and his pistol rattled as he steadied it with his other hand.
"Get a grip Cryil" he peered in on the ceremony once again. The hooded figures seemed too focused on the strange altar drenched in a reddish brown liquid to notice Cyril. "Maybe it's tomato paste" he joked to himself knowing full well it wasn't. In reality Cryil was shaken, but he couldn't help but peer back in upon the spectacle. The chanting became faster and Cyril could feel the air grow thick with an otherworldly presence that chilled him to his core.
As the chanting continued the air above the altar began to shimmer as if a mirage. The monotone chanting grew faster and faster now as the air began to no longer shimmer, but almost tear. Cryil now saw a jagged shadow floating above the altar. Before he could realize what was happening, a golden hand reached from the void and pulled the arm from the socket of the nearest hooded figure like a drumstick.
"Why couldn't it have been fucking olives?" he thought to himself, as he turned around and began to run back into the marsh. Hearing wails of pain and cries for mercy. His heart pounded in his chest as he kept running through the bog. There was no tomorrow, not unless he got back, got back to tell the syndicate what he saw. Cryil stopped to breath, hearing nothing but his heart pounding is his ears.
After the small pause he realized the swamp was silent, devoid of even the faintest animal noise. No more screams either. Whatever that thing was had finished with them, and Cryil was hundreds of meters from where he parked his car. With a final burst of speed Cyril ran towards his car and frantically pulled the door open and jammed the key into the ignition. It started on the first turn and Cryil slammed on the gas pedal and reversed back on the isolated road he had first come in on. Eventually reorienting the car to driving forwards in his retreat.
"What the blazes was that? Is it following me?" Cyril thought as he gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity and surveyed the road surrounding him. It was going to be a long drive.
That's it. I hope this adds a little random flavor the the tasty pizza tale that is being baked up every week by @dibblers.dabs. Intended to be a potential plot element in future tales to expand the story. Hope you guys liked it. Tell me what you think and I'll toss you a slice of PIZZA. Stay safe out there.