War in the Hollow: Dec. 23, ‘36

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They are running out of places to hide.

I have burned them out of their homes and chased them into the fields where they practiced their arts of war.

I have poisoned their wells and spoiled their food.

What is more, I have allowed the creatures of this version of Hollow to creep forward from the darkness.

They had been driven underground, far from the eyes of these men and women. Some monsters, it is true, formed alliances with humanity, but they are few and far between.

Now though, as I lay waste to this place, I am finding fewer and fewer men to hunt.

At first, I thought they had escaped.

But there are only a few portals from this place, and all save the one I came through appear to be guarded by the Hollow’s monsters.

More than once, I have come upon some troll feasting in the shadow of a hill or a giant grinding bones to make his bread.

All of it pleases me.

These creatures do not attack, and so I stay my hand. We are all of the same mind and of the same goal: the destruction of this place.

I came upon a small hillock, beneath which there was a well-camouflaged entrance, and an exhausted soldier standing before it. Mournfully, he stared down at the remnants of a machinegun, and when he heard my approach and looked up, I saw he was without a weapon. He held his hands up and asked for mercy.

I put a round through his right thigh and sent him stumbling back into the entrance of the cave. He shrieked, terrified, and tried to scramble away, but long, dark tentacles snaked out, took hold of him, and dragged him back into the shadows.

The cave magnified the screams of the dying man, and the satisfied grunts of whatever creature feasted upon him.

I waited a moment, and when I was sure the soldier would not be returning, I turned and went in search of more prey.

They were becoming harder to find.

#horror #fear #art #christmas

Published by

Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

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