NO MERCY

NO MERCY!

#ArtoonsInnWritersRoom

#Smuse

#Vampire

GENRE: GOTHIC

Screaming and struggling, she was dragged to the pyre. The manic crowd hauled her over a stake and shackled her to it. As the men piled more bracken around her, the women hollered, "Burn! Heathen!"

There was a roar of victory as the lit torch was flung into the kindling. The flames danced with a celebration of its own along with the barbaric mob.

Her eyes were terror stricken and her mouth was frozen in a wordless gasp as the flames started lacing the tips of her boots and kept rising to her feet.

She strained against the metal, even as her wails and shrieks were drowned in a flood of clangor and ruckus.

The uproar and sacrificial drumbeats reached a blood-curdling crescendo to match the intensity of the raging fire.

Her lips formed unheard words—" I'm not a vampire. You're all mistaken. I don't deserve to die like this …please…

MERCY!…"

She was about to drift into oblivion when the black shapes shrouded the moon.

Cascades of water from above doused the frenzied inferno. Everything came to a standstill in a trice.

The cacophony…

The savagery…

The beserk dance…

The village folk covered their ears futilely as sirens of keening rent the air and shattered their eardrums. Even as they lay writhing on the ground, hundreds of winged goths in black capes descended on them with fangs bared and talons drawn.

In split seconds, tendons on their necks were ruptured, heads decapitated and innards were strewn around. Crimson rivulets flowed into the sacrificial pit.

"Mother, you called and we're all here. We owe you for protecting our coven from these infidels and raising us like your own."

Heaving a sigh of relief, she fell limply into the arms of Mercy, the vampiress of the Vlad Coven.

Pic Courtesy: ArtoonsInn Writers Room

Comments

ANAM CARA

The waves are soft and frothy. Laced with gossamer frills tenderly kissing the tips of my toes covered with the grainy sand of the rugged seashore where I'm sitting, wistful. A gust of briny breeze tousles my hair as I gaze as far as my eyes can see. A flock of terns wheel overhead, their sharp, shrill cries punctuating the air as they dive and swoop over the surfs. A lone frigate bird , its crimson belly dazzling like a jewel skims majestically above, its long, slender wings outstretched as it rides the thermals high above the ocean. I absorb the sights and sounds of the late afternoon while absentmindedly scooping seashells beside me. As the afternoon phases, the furthest rim of the ocean is fringed in a gilded hem and the sleepy sun yawns, its dipping glow streaking the sky in a mellow tangerine and warm cherry. As I continue sitting there, the ships and yachts appear --specks of light from the portholes glimmering in the distance, reminding me of the phrase “That ship has sai...

TALES FROM THE GLEN BLOGGING CHALLENGE 2026

Image Courtesy: Pinterest This post is a part of BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026 Chapter1 https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/abercrombie-locke-mansion.html?m=1 Chapter2 https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/brambleshire-woods-day-2-letter-b.html?m=1 Chapter3 https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/meadow-brook-cottage-day-3-letter-m.html?m=1 Chapter4 https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/egad-shambles-in-brambles-day-4-letter-e.html?m=1 Chapter5 https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/veiled-night-at-meadow-brook-cottage.html?m=1 Chapter6 https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/library-of-cryptic-clues-day-6-letter-l.html?m=1 Chapter7 https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/hopper-hare-day-7-letter-h.html?m=1 Chapter8 https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/chipper-chipmunk-day-9-letter-c.html?m=1 Chapter9 https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/dapper-dormous...

ABERCROMBIE LOCKE MANSION

This post is part of the Blogchatter A2Z Challenge 2026. CHAPTER 1 ABERCROMBIE LOCKE MANSION The sky bled bruises of plum and cherry over the rolling hills. A full moon hung low against the mauve casting silver shards through the trees. The mansion made of cold greystone loomed large beyond the rusted iron gates. It grated on the gravel, rasping on the hinges and yawned open like a predator's jaw as Goldwynn booted it open with her foot. Her sneakers squished heavily on the mulch of dead leaves. Clutching her backpack, she looked up at the towering, grim structure forebodingly. "Are you sure you want to do this?" her friend Lexi whispered, hesitating by the gate. "This mansion's totally cursed, they say." Lexi's voice was a thin thread. A chill crept up her back and she tight...

DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER

#ButterflyEffectSpanning25Years #AllsWellThatEndsWell #DiamondsAreForever #WhereTheresAWill The pivotal phrase from “Kafka and the Doll” by Franz Kafka which says that ‘Loss isn't final but love is transformed and restored to you in ways that you never envisioned; it's all about growth and adaptation—plays a huge part in my new year. The Franz Kafka of my life is a girl called ‘ Charrzzx’. In retrospect, this story was in all probability conceived in 2001 as a miniscule bubble, but nevertheless a significant ripple which would impact my life 25 years later in 2026. **** Year 2001: The landmark year when I migrated to and made my base in Singapore was also a memorable one for another reason that it was my parents’ first visit to my place. The days ran into each other with visits to tourist spots and rounds of shopping sprees. On a very fine day, Daddy and I had passed by a Giordano showroom in a mall which I would generally walk past without a second glance other...

HILANG

Chapter 2 Muay, the Maddening Scamp Seasons had gone by with vibrant autumns and chilling winters. Muay Thai had now become very outgoing and social. On a full moon night, this newly transformed scamp had bounded away on some nocturnal adventure. I waited for her return for almost a week. As I searched high and low for Muay Thai, my heart raced with panic with every passing moment. On one of my search treks, I spotted something that made my blood run cold. Lying on the ground, partially hidden by the underbrush on the curbside, was Muay Thai's collar. The vibrant fuchsia leather was faded and dirty, but the delicate zircon pendant still sparkled in the sunlight and that had caught my attention. Holding it gently in my hands, I examined it for any sign of what might have happened to Muay Thai. But there was nothing - no blood, dried or otherwise. Maybe, just maybe, Muay Thai was still out there, wait...

Sangeetha Kamath

Search This Blog