Nanowrimo: Day 25!


Okay, I am officially lagging behind… But I won’t lose! I’ve got three days to go! You can do it! 😀


She was kneeling on the floor; her body battered and bruised with scratches and gashes on her back. Joan tried getting on her feet, but her body had given out. Her clothes stained with red, soaked with sweat and tears. Her brother would never know what happened to her when the police find her. She thought she could take on a demon… she was wrong.


The three devils circled her, bound by scarlet strings, the demon was the puppeteer. Laughing at his pray he walked towards her, laughing loudly. Her blade lay on the floor, there wasn’t enough blood to create another one and her bones had become frail after a prolonged forceful regeneration of her weapon. If she even tried to make another sword, her bones might fail her, and a sudden anemic attack might be the end of her. The demon circled her; his pace became a short sprint. His extremities were covered in a black tar-like goo, and his face was dotted with screws; a horrifying sight.


She tried creating a blade, but all she could manage was a short knife before her left tibia broke. Falling to the floor, she was kicked by the demon. Joan tumbled a few feet from the spot, having broken three ribs. Holding on to her side, she could barely breathe. The devil dogs nibbled at her hands and feet, injuring her as she tried to free herself from their bites. The demon grabbed her by the hair, picking her up with no difficult. He sniffed it for a while, and sliced it with his long fingernails. Falling to the floors, she injured her wrist. Joan looked up at the sky and saw an image… it was a guy, he fell on top of his body; a man with a metallic bar stood behind him, panting and screaming, he had knocked him dead. Ioseph escaped her lips. Just as she was about to give up, a rain of arrows pierced the dogs.


“For the umpteenth time, my name is Francis.” He walked out of the shadows, bow raised at the sky. “This was a pretty stupid move on your part, but I can never be angry with you. You’re my sis and that means a lot to me.”

She forced a smile. Her face was bruised and scratched. “Ioseph? No… Kayleb?” She closed her eyes, trying to remember his name. “Alessandro?” A tear escaped her eye. “Francis… my brother.”

“Now, motherfucker… it’s just you and me. And I will make you regret ever setting foot in my town!” Francis pointed his arrow at the now frowning demon. A hint of madness? It was a demon; evil was his madness.


Prancing about, he ripped out the throat of one of the demons and clothed himself with its fur. Jumping atop another dog, he rode him for a while. The other dog lay on the ground, motionless, pierced by the vast majority of arrows he had fired at them. Demon? More like madman.


“Are you going to evade me or is this all you’ve got?” Francis fired a few arrows at him.

“A human telling me what to do? Pathetic, utterly and joyfully pathetic.” He replied. A full set of sharp teeth drawn from that trap he called a mouth. “I find pleasure in making you suffer… I don’t kill.”

“Joyfully pathetic? I see your stupidity knows no bounds.”

“Son of Adam… As naïve as ever.”

Francis fired a few warning shots. “Leave before I kill you.”

“Kill me.”

“I will.”

“Then shoot me.”

An arrow pierced the head of the dog beneath him; toppling with the creature. “That was only a warning.”


A large pool of tar slowly enveloped the ground beneath Francis. It was solid, unlike its natural counterpart, yet it felt as if it was alive. Hands started popping out, desperately trying to grab a hold of Francis’ body. He didn’t flinch; his eyes were set on the demon.


Aiming his bow, he fired. The arrow pierced the demon’s skull.


“That wasn’t enough to kill you but it will be enough to stop you.” He smiled as the tar seeping into the ground, once again. “It wasn’t made with my blood, that special little baby was made from holy water and a cloned saint’s blood. Eat that, you asshole.”


The demon opened its mouth and spewed hot lava with a large wave of flames. The flames took the shape of a buffalo stampede. Lowering his bow, Francis closed his eyes; ready to face his demise. As everything got hotter around him, a rain of snow plundered the battlefield. Large bone-like spears pierced every part of the demon’s body.


Francis’ mother walked up to him as his father carried Joan in his arms.


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