"They rise
from their crypts, these disgraced warriors who did not reach Valhalla but were
consigned to ignoble burial.
You
can see them as they stand atop their burial mounds, sword in hand, for they
are still corporeal, though they reek of decomposing flesh and dusty bone.
Their
stench, is all pervasive, the rotting corruption of themselves—it alerts all to
their passage and the terror this night will bring.
“They
have risen!”
An
old man tries to warn the others of his village. But these undead spring
quickly toward him like the monstrous predatory creatures they are, sleek and
strong—shape-shifting demonic beings whose sole purpose is to rise from their
own rot and destroy the living.
The
old man cries out once but no more for they are chewing through his throat,
ripping his poor flesh to shreds.
Great
thick torrents of blood pour forth, appearing black in the eerie glow of a
jaundiced moon.
Others
begin to come forth too each rising armed with killing weapons, weapons alas
not used in battle.
For
you see these undead beasts were not warriors, but ran from battle in fright. And
for their shame they were disowned and damned, their punishment was to be run
through with blunt swords.
Yet
though their executioners have long since died, these creatures have returned
for revenge for they are mindless killing creatures and nothing more.
The
village yonder is their target. For this was home to their punishers, those
people who deemed them cowards.
They
move en masse, a frightening sight to behold.
A
courting couple see them and try to flee, but are soon overpowered. Each
is pulled away, to be devoured, while still living.
Their
agonized cries fill the night sky—and as their blood pours from their torn
flesh, it is also consumed for it is the elixir the Draugr needs.
And
then suddenly, in between the scream of a howling wind and the cry of an owl
the boy and girl are fully consumed. Bones
crunch and flesh is ripped apart. Then when they are dead, their mutilated
remains are discarded for these undead feed only upon living flesh.
These
ravenous dead at last reach the town. Parents cry out as they try to protect
their young but none is a match for these demonic creatures. Babies
are torn asunder and devoured, children drained and their parents too. All are
feasted upon. A great and frightening cry of joy goes up when a pregnant woman
is ripped apart, for there is the prize of a tiny fetus within.
The
husband, father to the unborn child, watches powerlessly as his family’s
murderers finish consuming his loved ones.
He
cries out their names until his own head is torn from his body and the
cascading blood is drunk.
Each
house is so attacked and its inhabitants butchered and eaten.
But
there is one who has fled not in cowardice but has rushed to stop these undead
monsters.
A
young warrior, strong and fiercely built does finally gather some of his
friends to fight these cursed beings.
They
have gathered iron swords from the monsters’ own crypts for that is the way. They
are seen by the demons and are soon trapped high atop the cliffs that overlook
the sea. But it is alright, they are ready for battle.
They
yell a defiant war cry, as they spring forward, tackling the Draugr and slicing
their heads from their bodies.
When
all are so attacked the young warriors make a great pyre and burn the damned to
ashes. At first light they will consign the ashes to the sea for that is the
way it must be done.
The
village is no more, but the Draugrs have been destroyed.
Ah
but sadly there was one who watched and waited--one who will soon carry forth
the hellish curse, for he will gather up as many fiendish comrades as he can
from far afield, to avenge his brethren’s destruction.
Go
forth if you dare! See if he can be stopped and please try to warn your kin!
And
if some night you see them making for your village be resigned to the terrible
death that comes from those they call the evil Draugr, the ravenous undead!
**
The Draugr are the shape-shifting
undead Vikings of Norse mythology who feed upon living flesh.
In life they dishonoured themselves
and were declared unfit to enter Valhalla and were thus buried and forgotten.
They can only be destroyed by
decapitation and burning and having their ashes scattered.
© Carole Gill 2011
“Carole Gill’s talent is a wonder to experience. She has
the uncanny ability to craft horrors imbued in fairy tale finesse.”
“House of Horrors
is a fine addition to my Kindle, and I’m sure I’ll be going to read this again
and again…”
“A veritable blood feast for vampire fans everywhere!”
“If you are a fan of horror, you won't want to miss this
one!! High marks to Ms. Gill.”
“There are so many different monsters in this book that
no matter what your biggest fear is, or your favorite one to read about, you
are gonna find it without fail!”
