DS- Sand, Dust, and Blood

03 Nov

The night was plagued by the orange glow of the sodium vapour lamps. The spots of light illuminated a street contained between two compounds. The rammed earth walls seemed brittle. Garbage was piled up in a corner. The cloudy sky concealed the stars. A thin layer of sand and dust coated the dirt street, making his footsteps silent. The young man wandering through the dark alleyway seemed out of place. He was a young European man wearing an expensive Italian suit, walking quietly in one of Morocco’s poorest neighbourhoods.

If it was brighter, or if he stepped directly under a lamppost, which he purposefully avoided, one could have seen the anger concealed beneath his tense features, and the hard, piercing look of his eye. This was the face of a man whom had been betrayed for one too many time. He was sick and tired of the false promises, the worthless vows of protection, and the hypocritical speeches that, in the end, turned out to be driven by self-interest. Since childhood, he’d been chased by the shadows. Everywhere he had sought protection, those he met either used him as a tool for their own agenda, or tried to turn him in to those who wanted him in their hands.

He was sick of being seen for what he was and not who he was.

He was interrupted in his inner ranting by whispers from behind. He turned around quickly, only to find five dark figures lined up in the dark street. Some were carrying led pipes and one had a baseball bat. “Petty thugs”, he spat. The five men were nervously chatting amongst themselves. He recognised the word “money” and “stranger” amongst the muffled voices. They were going to mug him.

The young man sighed.  The thugs were surrounding him, and proceeded to take off his jacket. He wasn’t planning on handing it over, though.

He threw the suit jacket towards the wall on one side of the street. He immediately stretched his palm out towards the jacket. A metallic sound was heard, and the jacket was instantly pegged to the wall by a dark, crystal-like shape.

Unaware of what had just happened, one of the man holding a led pipe charged him, yelling. The young man spun around and thrust his hand into his assailant’s stomach. Instead of a muffled thud, the distinct sound of metal cutting through flesh arose from the man’s stomach. The man’s arms went limp, and the led pipe fell with a thud. The young man pulled his arm out. Where his hand was, there was now an oblong, xiphoid shape, a prolongation of his arm, orange light running down it with a deadly metallic wetness.

The man fell to the floor, dead, a dark pool of liquid spreading around the corpse. The four remaining thugs were momentarily perplexed, and the man used that to his advantage. The pent-up rage within him needed a blood-bath. The expensive leather in his shoes cracked as huge metallic talons pierced them, immediately digging into the ground, giving the man leverage. He burst onto one of the remaining assailants, burrowing his sword arm into his chest, pegging him against the wall opposite to his jacket. The hunter had become the prey.

He jumped from the wall and flew across the street, turning his other arm into a deadly tool identical to the first, and spread his lethal limbs like wings as his trajectory brought him between two of the remaining thugs.

Having just witnessed his four friends get cut down, the last of the muggers turned tail, dropped his led pipe, and ran away from the European man, his legs powered by terror and adrenaline. After a few moments, his curiosity got the better of him. He looked over his shoulder. The last thing he saw was the blurry outline of a metallic shard whistling straight towards him at subsonic speed, before it brutally vaporised his skull.


Hey guys! I don’t post often any more, and this one is too long for the Speakeasy (Is it even called that now?) so I hope the few of you that catch it enjoy it. This is another vignette into a plot line I’m working on for my own enjoyment, but its place is up here with the great majority of my other pieces. There is already a vignette from this storyline on this blog right up here, which is chronologically later than this one in the overall storyline. Comments appreciated!


Posted by on 3 November 2014 in Dragonspark


Tags: ,

6 responses to “DS- Sand, Dust, and Blood

  1. joetwo

    3 November 2014 at 19:48

    It is always best to stay away from strange gentlemen in North African Streets. Good one.

    • DragonSpark

      3 November 2014 at 22:20

      Thanks, Joe. Glad to see you’re still the fastest reader in the West 🙂 Thanks for stopping by, and for the feedback. So glad you liked it.

  2. imab00kworm

    3 November 2014 at 21:11

    Ah, nice one! I was wondering if you’d continue that one 🙂 (the word xiphoid gave it away)

    • DragonSpark

      3 November 2014 at 21:21

      Yup. Might end up being the bloody title, at this point. All thanks to Suzanne for giving me the word. 🙂


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