Bleakman's Bog Pt. 6

Well, looks like it is Tuesday yet again. I have written a very special installment today. This series will is drawing ever near to the conclusion. I hope you are as excited as I am.

Part 1.
Part 2.
Part 3.
Part 4.
Part 5.
And now part 6.


Bruised and battered Duncan could hardly breath as the mud filled his lungs. Looking up as the blade cut into his throat Dennis was too strong. It was all over. The salvation he so greatly desired would be lost. Salvation would be lost to a bitter pain filled death deep in the bog's bowels. But the blade never cut any deeper. The eyes that were so enraged grew familiar. The knife fell from Dennis' hand into the mud. Dennis stood and walked away. The mists followed him closely and Duncan was alone again. The mists settled as Duncan began to raise himself.


“No! You stupid pathetic worm! Slit his throat and drink his blood!”
The voice echoed around inside his brain. It hurt almost as much as the hunger. As he stumbled through the woods the haze wore off and he felt colder than ever. He took steps and blood began to flow from he throat. He had forgotten. She had cut him open. He had tried to stop her, but he was already dead.
Dennis stopped and stood frozen. He was dead. It was almost too much to fathom. Too much to comprehend. The reality of it wasn't a weight however. It was freeing. He closed his eyes. It was time to sleep. Finally he could sleep.
“I'm not letting you sleep yet! You child, you insignificant blip on the annals of time. No blood golem has ever betrayed me. You will return to me and you will be used like the tool you are. That is your only option!”
He walked towards the hovel of the witch. Sleep would come soon, surely sleep would come soon.


Duncan was trying to stand his ruined leg still refused to work. Bracing with all his strength through the pain of torn muscles he somehow stood. Another chance it was time he ended this. It was time the witch paid for her evils. It was time he released his Anne from the witch's grasp.
His horse was long gone. He hobbled to where ever. Somehow he knew he'd find the hovel. Somehow he knew it would end tonight. Perhaps fate had taken over now. He did not care. He was ready to die. He knew he should have died so long ago.


Sitting in her chair the witch watched as the pieces all came together. The golem was returning and the husband was as well. Soon the new chapter would begin. Her plans were coming out perfectly. In the corner a chain skittered on the floor. Anne looked down on the child, the child she had bore into this world.


Duncan was heavy. It took all of her strength to put him on the horse. The witch screamed in the back of her head. The witch wanted control, Anne would not allow it not now. Duncan's torn leg was still bleeding, but maybe if he made it to town he would live. Maybe if he lived he could come back and save her.

“Save me, my dear. Please, please return. Save me.” Anne fell to her knees as the horse ran away towards town.
The witch stood up using Anne's body.
“Oh, my dear sweet Anne. You will pay for this. He was very important. He was immeasurably important. I'm afraid your sweet daughter will have to pay the price however.”
Going back into the house Hanna lay on the floor dead. The witch used Anne's hands to draw a circle to write the symbols to say the words. Hanna rose from the floor a shade.
“My beautiful golem. Please if you will go fetch me a tasty little morsel much like yourself.”
As the witch spoke the words Hanna's eyes turned black and then the blackness spread across her skin. A shadow she became and going through walls and woods she took the first child from the village. The first child of many.

Sketch of the Week 1

Original Sketch scanned as a black and white image.

Edited Colored Version

Bleakman's Bog Pt. 5

I'm sorry I didn't post last week. It just so happens that Twisted Metal and Valentine's Day fell on Tuesday. So, I was otherwise indisposed.I hope you enjoy this next part I did something exciting at the end, but no peeking, okay?

Part 1.
Part 2.
Part 3.
Part 4.
Part 5 starts now.

Anna's body was on Dennis in seconds wrapping bone like fingers around his throat. However the grip was weak and was not having the intended effect.
“I no more killed Hanna than Duncan did! You ever mention that name again I will eat your tongue!” snarled the hag.
“So, she killed Han... your daughter?” Dennis asked looking the witch in her hollow gray eyes.
“Anne is through talking to you. She has had quite enough freedom for now. But what to do with you? You are inedible and quite the nuisance. I suppose you can serve some use however.” her lips curled into a cracked and cruel smile.
“You won't wi...” a single claw racked across his throat.


The mists were bearing him along like a calm river. Dennis had never known them to ask thus. It was as if they pulled him towards someone or something. He couldn't resist. He didn't want to.
As the mists bore him along he began to make out a shape. The shape soon become and man riding a horse. When he saw the man's one crippled leg he thought he knew him.
“Dennis, Dennis is that you?”
His hands curled around a knife. He had to kill this man. He couldn't resist. He didn't want to. He just wanted to rest.
With a strength he did not know he had he jumped and knocked the man from his horse. However the man blocked the knife that was aimed for his heart. Rolling in the mud and filth of the bog they startled the horse into flight.
Dennis was so tired. His hands still held the knife and the man was bleeding on him.


Duncan was surprised to see Dennis walking towards him. But something was wrong Dennis was covered in blood. It seemed to come from his throat, but the mists were moving so rapidly it was hard to make out details.
“Dennis, Dennis is that you?”
Duncan was surprised to see the knife and Dennis spring forward as if in flight. It was all Duncan could do to knock the blade aside. Soon they were on the ground. A jumbled mess writhing in the mud and filth. The blade however hadn't completely missed its mark. Duncan felt the hot blood dripping from his side and he felt wetness in his breath.
He wasn't going to die. Not here, not when he was finally going to set things right.



Dennis felt the warmth of the man's blood on him. It felt amazing. Perhaps he wasn't so tired after all. He felt invigorated. He wanted to kill this man. He couldn't stop.
Dennis' new strength was turning the brawl in his favor. Soon the man was on his back as Dennis sat atop him.
“Dennis not like this. Dennis you are stronger than her.” the man pleaded as Dennis pressed the knife closer and closer to the man's throat. “It's me Duncan.. umph... Don't you remember me somewhere in there?”
For a second Dennis knew the man. It was Duncan. He had so much he needed to tell Duncan. But the blood was so warm. It smelled like life itself. A bit had even made it into his mouth. It was delicious.


The witch sat with a full stomach watching her boys roll in the mud. It was such a delight to see. She still felt the child squirming inside. It was always best when they still moved. Though the child would be dead shortly. Suffocation felt so satisfying. And when a plan goes according to plan that is also so Satisfying. The witch felt like she could dance. Such joy she hadn't felt since the night she took her current body.
“Duncan is coming. He'll forgive me.” Anne whispered in a brief moment of sanity.
“He can't forgive someone who devoured his daughter so readily.” this was a game the witch also liked to play. Tonight has been a good night.

Bleakman's Bog Pt. 4

Writing this story seems to get easier every week. I hope it becomes more enjoyable to read every week. I apologize that I do not edit these stories before I post them. It is mostly due to lack of preparation. But I think that it will add an extra layer of interest. I hope you enjoy part 4.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4 is here!

It was difficult to keep pace. The creature kept disappearing and reappearing. A child's whales could be heard through the fog. Sometimes they seemed to come from all around. Duncan continued he would not let the horse slow. He wouldn't fail, not again.


Using Duncan's legs it made him walk, he couldn't stop. He walked passed his horse. The steps were thick and forced. His mind resisted, but it was too powerful. The entity had full control although it seemed like it was only just remembering how to move. He couldn't get the image of the corpse or the feel of its lips against his.
He walked and walked. A distance that had taken hours on horseback was taking longer than he could imagine. He felt the pain in his muscles and feet, but the force pushed him ever onward. The greatest part of his dread came from the fact he could tell, it was taking him home.
It was walking him on a game trail in Fourcoin Forest when he saw the trap. It was a snare. Made of wire and attached to a tree on the side of the trail. He tried to warn the wraith, but it did not heed him. Soon his foot was ensnared. The wraith did not slow. It did not try to remove the noose. It simply walked. The wire cut deeply into his calf. Soon it was grinding bone. The wire snapped before it broke through his tibia and fibula. The wire however snap with anger and lashed around his leg. It tore into muscle with the momentum. The wraith did bother to remove it. The pain was too much everything went dark.
He awoke to death. His daughter's eyes stared at him, they were gray and dead. A little pool of blood surrounded the side of her face. His whole body throbbed with pain, but nothing was more searing than her eyes. Duncan heard Anne humming in the back. He felt a warm blaze and smelled fresh meat on the fire. It was all he could do to roll away from his daughter. Looking at the fireplace he saw Anne working over the spit marinating. Anne turned around.
“My, my this skin is quite beautiful. Thank you for your assistance Duncan. I am quite hungry in these new bones. Would you like a taste?”
“Why?” his mind was knives and fire nothing made sense, “Why'd you kill her?” words hurt. Being alive hurt. His blood was everywhere or was it his. Could someone bleed so much?
“I already told you I was hungry, Duncan.” her voice was cold.
He tried to stand. He was going to kill her. Strangle the monster, but the darkness came instead.


The trail went cold. The mists ceased to swirl. The girl's cries were gone. He was alone. His sweat and the horse's ran as one dripping into the gray. He couldn't turn back. He didn't even think he could. It was death or redemption, perhaps both.