Skineater: The Nightmares of London

[Shadowmancer]

In the dark mist of the evening rain, the sound of splashing footsteps echoed off the gritty walls in London's downtown. It was early September and the air was cold, making sounds crisp and raindrops cold. A shiver rippled though the empty streets as a man, bundled in his heavy coat and boots, picked up his pace, clutching his jacket opening. He felt a cold chill run down his spine as he looked over his shoulder cautiously, someone was following him.


His heals clunked against the concrete, fear emitting from his posture, his breathing growing heavier. A streetlight flickered ahead at the corner of the street as a taxi pulled up to the stop sign. The man's heart was pounding now as he jogged up to the taxi, hailing for it to stop. A stiff breeze rushed behind him making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, but he eased a little seeing the cab slow.


It was an exceptionally dark night as a heavy storm passed through, shutting residents up in their homes and flats. Very few lights were on as it was well after ten and in this part of town people shut themselves up early.


The taxi pulled over slowly to the curb as the man shakily reached for the handle with impatient hands, he felt fear creep over him as another wave of darkness pressed against his back. The taxi driver rolled down his window as the frightened man flung the back passenger door open.


"Where are we headed at such an hour?" The driver inquired. A panic-stricken face appeared pale in the streetlight as the man tossed his briefcase in the back seat, stumbling in after it unsuccessfully. His boots slipped and squeaked as he tried clambering in.


"Anywhere but here!" His voice shook with fear as he finally fumbled in. His fingers slipped on the door handle as the rain splashed inside the cab, making everything wet and slick. The squeaking of his rain-soaked boots was eerily loud as he clumsily pulled them in, trying once more for a better grip on the handle.


"Is everything alright, sir?" The taxi driver looked upon the man concerned.


"Just g-" Suddenly the man was ripped from the backseat as the door was flung wide open. A terrorized scream resounded off the grimy walls as the taxi driver, visibly shaken, gasped in horror. Blood splattered across the windshield and inside the taxi as a low growl reverberated in the driver's ears. Panicked, he threw the car into gear and fled, tires squealing in his wake.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"So, you're saying this man was ripped out of the back seat of your cab and brutally murdered?" The officer's tone was dull and uninterested.


"You don't believe me?!" The taxi driver's voice shook. "I'm quite positive there's still blood in my car! It's on my coat!" He tugged on the lapel of his jacket showing the officer. "I know what I saw. Something ate him!" The man stood furious and frightened.


"Sir, do calm yourself. I most certainly doubt that something ate him..." Officer Conway corrected his tone. It was not his disinterest in the story which made him sound disconnected, but rather he had heard crazed people and their tall stories all month that it was wearing on him. Most of the reports that were coming to his desk were from those clearly with a record of substance abuse...at least in his mind. "Mr. Burn, I understand your concerns and we will certainly put out an investigation on the matter. However, records of a "beast" eating men...." Conway trailed off before clearing his throat and standing formally, straightening his jacket. "Please, go home to your family Mr. Burns. Rest, there truly is nothing to worry about. We will investigate." The officer dismissed the man, who was still in antics, and walked away. He was a busy man and did not have time for tired out men filling his desk with empty, mindless paperwork.


~~~~~~~~~~~


Skylar sat on a bench inside the police station, tapping her boots together, water flicking off the rubber soles; She was waiting for someone. Dully, she looked up, out at the street with her bi-coloured eyes and sighed, blowing a strand of dark brown hair out of her face. The rain had subsided, but the streets were still quiet save only a few motorists here and there.


She clicked her boots together once more before groaning and slowly standing, dusting off her dark jeans and straightening her jacket. Skylar Rhys was of rather average hight for a twenty-two year old, her legs were shorter than normal, but her long torso made up the difference.


Making a sour face, Sky turned to walk into an office when she was practically knocked back by a man in a frantic step.


"Oh, excuse me, miss! Are you alright?" Mr Burns apologized as he caught her with shaky hands. Skylar waved him off before looking up at him.


"No need to fuss, I'm quite alright....Are you?" She saw a worried look flash across his face.


"Yes, yes..." He seemed to space out momentarily before snapping his attention back to her.


"You seem a little shaken...I saw you go in there..." Skylar trailed off nodding at the office and pulling out a note pad, hoping the man would respond.


"Miss, you would do well to call for someone to take you home." Mr Burns looked at her sternly. "It isn't safe out there."

 

[-.-.Lucifer.-.-]

Thump, thumpthump, thump, thumpthump....


Thump.


It was a late night, and the skies had just started to open up, relieving themselves on the unsuspecting workers. The raw foundation, deforested and broken down for the layout of a new cluster of neighboring houses, was lit up by large stadium lamps. Raindrops made distinct tapping sounds atop the worker's hardhats, cranes groaning and sputtering as they dug out a five by six meter hole, large enough for the basement of a small three bedroom. They'd been carving out cellars for most of the developing neighborhoods, and Sam was getting ready to call it a day.


Grrrrrrrrrrr---


The crane's shovel whined, the teeth bearing into something hard, something... strong.


"Boss!" A man yelled from the construction equipment. "I think we hit a rock!"


"Well don't just stand there! Get the jack'!" Sam exclaimed, pointing towards the jackhammer in the makeshift shed. They called it a shed, but in reality it was a simple wooden frame covered in blue tarps.


A burly man, sporting a thick red beard, came back to the dig-site with what looked like an oversized flathead screwdriver. He flipped a switch, sending the hammer down on the soft earth. There was a long drawn out second, where all they could hear was the sound of metal chipping away at granite.


Tttttttttttttttttttt- cunk!


Another worker came in from the right, heaving a thick slice of... flat rock.


"What the..."


"Someone phone the police!" The red-bearded man cried, staring down at what looked like the hand of a preserved human. Skin, very pale.


Three others worked with him, careful to dig out the coffin-like granite structure. Sam was on the phone with the operator, trying to transfer his call to the station.


It took four more arms to pry open the lid, revealing a thin skeletal frame wrapped in old hemp clothing, and bound by silver chains.


"Oh fuck... are you alright mate?" One guy asked, but there came no reply. And the chest would rise and fall every few seconds... indicating some form of life.


One other worker grabbed the handle of a bolt cutter, sliding it gently over a link of the shackles...


~~~


I can remember... stars.


Darkness is engulfing my body, the color of the sky painted with orange and pink hues. My chest...


It's burning.


Gah.


My throat. So thirsty.


I could feel my stomach restricting, the emptiness causing my veins to ache. My eyelids flutter, and suddenly the only light left above my head comes from the burning gas of suns millions of years away from me.


A laugh.


Familiarity makes a surge of pain ripple under my cracked ribs. Flitting around the gaping hole.


That hole.


"Goodnight... and goodbye." That voice again, petals coated in honey and dipped in poison. Silver eyes... staring down at me as the grinding of rock seals me forever in black.


I struggle against my binding, silver burning my skin as I continue to thrash. "No! No no no! Let me out!" My throat is raw, almost as if the inside my split and bleed. Maybe I'll choke on my own words. "You said you loved me!"


The laugh again.


It penetrates the stone, leaving me to stare blankly into nothing. There's a crumbling sound above me, dirt being flung into the grave they've dug clean. I'm being buried alive.


I scream, using my lungs to their full extent. Letting the pain push me farther. With each mound of dirt added on top of me, I grow tired... and soon...


I fall into a deep sleep.


" Oh fuck... are you alright mate? "


The sound reaches the creature's mind, allowing him to take a few moments to absorb his surroundings by ear. There's a low rumbling to his left, and the scent of bodies around him is causing his throat to burn once more.


So hungry...


A weight is pressed to his limbs, an invisible barrier refusing to allow his lids to open.


Something cold is raked against his shoulder and a sharp snap makes the air around them hum.


Mistakes are bound to happen, when a human stumbles upon something they shouldn't.


Green eyes shoot open.


Men scatter.


One screams, and then his cries are muffled by the blood that fills his throat. The gurgling sound causes others to panic and they bolt in different directions. Everything comes in a blur.


one, two, three, four...


Four men are lying face down in the mud.


Five, six, seven...


Three others have been intercepted, skulls crushed under soft fingers.


An uproar of voices clamber in his head, memories exploding behind emerald hues. Something is gripping at his chest, tugging hard at his stomach as he rips into warm flesh.


He can't control it.


He doesn't remember.


"I'm sorry..." the low soft voice of the Skineater rings in his own ears, tears staining his now color-filled cheeks. The blue water that protruded from under his skin has faded, life coming to his almost sickly-looking form. Rain washes away the scarlet from his face, and the cellphone from the construction worker is laying open in the mud, a woman on the other line yelling into the other end.


"Sir? Sir?! Are you there? I'm sending help right away-- "


Her voice is cut off, the phone giving into the wet elements.


Sirens blare in the distance, so far away that not even a dog could pick up the sound.


He stumbles to the treeline, dissolving in darkness.


Adorned in blue overalls, a black shirt, and an orange construction vest Spike makes his way towards the city. His surroundings unfamiliar.


Harsh voices echo in his skull, names and places popping behind his eyelids like blown out lightbulbs. The surge of thoughts that are not his own causes his bottom lip to tremble, scarlet dripping from his chin.


The creature falls to his knees, decaying leaves raking up under his body. Stifling tears, he curls in a ball and falls into another gentle slumber, with only his own guilt to keep him company.


Monster.