Abode of the Damned: A Dark Supernatural Fantasy by Matt Cole Page B

rough with age and hard
living. “You are now a subject of his lordship.”
    Cole stared back into the shadows for what seemed
like forever, peered up at Lucy, who gave a hesitant nod. “Dead,”
Cole sneered, “how?” He gripped his jumpsuit at his chest and
addressed the invisible voice lurking in the dark end of the
carriage. ”I am flesh and blood. I draw breath.” Cole turned to
Lucy, quickly grabbed her wrist and said, “I ask you again, what is
this place?”
    “Release her!” At that moment, Lucy wrestled her
wrist free from Cole as he loosened his grip.
    Lucy’s companion came forward into the light. He was
a large man in his mid fifties, perhaps, with messy, long white
hair, wild wisps tucked behind his ears. A walrus style moustache
accented a strong, intelligent face. He wore a disheveled black
linen three piece suit; a gold pocket watch chain dangled from his
vest pocket. A soiled black western double string tie hung from in
his collar.
    “I assure you Mr. Sunger
you are quite
dead. I have been here a very long time.” The man, distracted,
peered through the bars of the carriage at their hideous jailers
who were suddenly and savagely fucking in the dry dirt some
distance away. “True, the capsule you find yourself in now has the
feel and look of the body you know. But it is not your human flesh;
that you left on Earth, which no doubt has been reduced to ash or
lies in a box beneath the surface of some bone-yard.”
    “Liar!” Cole grabbed the man by the lapel. “What is
this place? What game do you play?”
    Again the older gentleman peered through the bars at
the demonic creatures, unalarmed by Cole’s aggression. Cole
followed his gaze. The fiends, alerted by the shouting, momentarily
broke from their snarling and violent thrusting and looked back at
their captives – two scorched corpses with frantic, shimmering eyes
and blood slick erections - but quickly fell back into their fierce
sodomy.
    It was then that Cole observed the charred black
stumpy appendages that protruded off the medial borders of the
demons’ shoulder blades. “What in Hell are those things?”
    “What in Hell, indeed.” The older man looked down at
the white-knuckled hand gripping his lapel and then up again into
Cole’s eyes as Cole released him. “My name is Clancy Adams, Mr.
Sunger. I am pleased to meet your acquaintance, despite the
unforgiving circumstances.” Clancy offered his hand and Cole took
it.
    “Our captors here are demons who have fallen out of
favor with our host. See how there have been burned and their wings
severed. It will take centuries for them to regenerate to their
former selves. For now, their service is reduced to roaming these
wastelands and collecting stray souls who have passed through.
    “Souls?”
    “We have a physical form in this
dominion for one reason and one reason only: so that we may suffer
physical pain. We may feel hunger, but never starve. We may suffer
any fashion of pain and violence – no matter how severe, but never
perish - only to revive to endure more agony .”
    “Do you not remember your death?” Lucy asked, her
tone subdued, her gaze between her feet as she now sat against one
barred wall with her arms around her knees. “We all do.”
    Cole turned to Lucy, who looked up to meet
his eyes, anticipating an answer. “I was hanged.”
    * * * * *
    The carriage wheels creaked as they rolled up into
the Black Mountains and along the rocky and treacherous terrain,
which was comprised of lava rock, stone, sparse patches of russet
foliage, and the odd petrified husk of a tree. The road they
followed was narrow and at times the rock face of mountain was
right up against one side of the carriage while a steep crag lay
below the other. Overhead, the ever murky gory-brown sky fell into
a scarlet horizon, which bleed like an open wound.
    The fiends atop the carriage were curiously silent
now with only the odd brief exchange in their bizarre, caustic
tongue. Lucy and Clancy