A wisp of black and grey appeared in his view, the scythe-like appendage swinging down. With a scream, he stumbled down to the cold, rough concrete, his face stricken with despair as the monster made its return. His scratched and bruising arms rose in a feudal attempt to block the cleaving strike, and his eyes clenched closed.
Flashing on the back of his eyelids like an antique projector, the death and carnage from that night seven years ago played on repeat. The screams, the blood, the sounds of snapping bone and tearing flesh. Everything began to rush back, the nightmare bursting with terrifying force for a final time.
Seconds passed, and his heaving lungs burned from hyperventilating. He didn't feel any pain, though, and the creature always toyed with its victims before they died.
"Hahahaha!" cackled a boy two or three years older than him. Peter flinched from the noise, his blemished arms still covering his face defensively. Realization washed over him. He wasn't going to die. Peeking an eye open, Peter trembled as he looked for those tormenting him again.
Looming over him were three figures veiled in dark and unoriginal costumes. Holding a large plastic scythe, the individual in the middle leaned down towards Peter. Features disguised behind a crude dollar store skull mask, many impractical, shallow cracks, and a disproportionate jaw decorating the cheap plastic, their face met his.
"What's wrong, Little Peter? Thought I was your little 'Skalendir'?" Questioned the shoddy Reaper arrogantly. Exhaling shakily, Peter wiped away the tears that were building up in his eyes as anger built up inside him.
This is why he hated Halloween: all these kids dressed up as ghouls, freaks, and cryptids. They would mercilessly try to scare him, forcibly digging up old and cruel memories. An arm shot up, shoving the taller kid off him quickly. "Fuck you," he barked, slowly rising to his feet.
Though all masked with cheap plastic and rubber, Peter was without a doubt that the trio was furious. Moving in from the right side, obviously a female from the costume and body type, the girl let her foot scuff along the concrete before arcing upwards into Peter's ribs.
Wheezing in pain, Peter was slammed back into the concrete. His shirt scraped against the coarse rocky material, bruising Peter further through his shirt as his uncovered elbow was left bloody upon the hard contact.
The last instigator, the older teen left of the skull-masked boy, lifted his rubbery mask slightly to reveal his chafed lips. Puckering, his lips opened, and his signature chipped tooth revealed itself as the teen spat a glob of saliva onto Peter's face.
Lowering his shitty imitation of a Micheal Myers mask back down, he let out a callous chuckle as he used his foot to lay the more petite boy onto his back, digging his boot into the boy's chest as he did so. His boot raised from the ground before lowering itself on Peter's face, twisting it back and forth on the spot he spat.
Peter let out a pained whine. He writhed in pain as his face and the rough rubber on the underside of the boot ground the slobber together.
Each twist of the boot pushed Peter's head into the concrete, entrapping black specks and pebbles of rubble into his usually curly hair. The boot's rough actions ceased after nearly a minute as the lead bully lowered his face to Peter's.
"I bet your sister died to that stupid Skalendir monster on that little camping trip of hers." He sneered as his dark blue eyes glinted off the shine of the crescent move above. "All while playing another round of Man Hunt."
The Reaper stood back up, reeling back his foot and driving it into the side of Peter's stomach.
The trio, laughing amongst themselves, allowed their feet to pitter-patter along the dark grey road below. They didn't look back, didn't care to so much as look down as a pool of mist began to flow into the streets like a slowly rising flood.
***
None of the other trick-or-treaters or their parents seemed to care, and the houses lit with bright yellow and orange jack-o-lanterns bore no will to assist the more petite boy with his problems. Ignoring the last remaining survivor of the incident was simpler than interacting with him.
It would only lead to the boy's 'ego' being fed, allowing him to believe he was permitted to spread his gruesome fable. No parent wanted their kid to be subject to that story, even if most of the police force backed the boy and his late sister.
Ignorance, be it intentional or secondhand like cigarette smoke, was dangerous. It was the instigator of almost every cause of death, and the fog that fills one's head will finally escape the world and their view like all those around them.
The fog rose in the streets, the bright and flashy houses illuminating the heavy mist with mirages of color and shapes that shifted in the wafting low clouds like wraiths.
Wandering children in costumes filling their greedy little hands with clumps of packaged and wrapped candies. Parents and their delusions believed the dense rising fog would make this a scarier night for their miniature energized masked gremlins to enjoy.
None had ever headed the warnings of the fog, and none ever would. They all believed the stories to be nothing but the ramblings of a child with an imagination far too cruel after a so-called massacre. Even the parents who lost their children refused to believe him, stuck in their denial and opting to change their mentality to believe they never had children to feed their ignorance and quell their everlasting misery.
***
And without knowing, a child was taken. She wandered too far away, not realizing until a long, razor-sharp blade impaled her chest. Another pierced her lower abdomen, keeping the young child in place. Her lungs and heart were already in ruin, and her dying brain didn't register as the limb of the creature tore its scythe-like appendage upwards. Ripping through skin, bone, and organs, the scythe split the girl up the middle.
Her eyes spun wildly as blood poured out of every orifice like a waterfall, the last sound of her split tongue clicking at her teeth, leaving the little pink witch turning the ground sticky and crimson. The creature, silent like the death it inflicts, glided through the fog, ever so excited about its hunt. The ignorant masses inflamed its ego, giving it a shining silver spoon.
***
Feeling the blood on his person dry, Peter put his feet under him. The fog was closing in, and pure, unadulterated terror overloaded his senses. His body began to move on its own, stumbling over his feet and crashing into the crowds that never cared.
He had no need to care for these people; they never did so for him. If it went any way like last time, it was survival of the fittest… No, survival of the luckiest, survival of those aware of the danger, survival of the determined. Those ignorant would die. Those who thought they would be safe would be next. Always anticipate the Skalendir, and you will have a higher chance to live. That's what he would like to assume, but that would leave him believing he was safe if he knew it existed.
That fabrication would not save him; it didn't save anyone. He knew that best because Sarah was taken from him last year. The body turned to rags of flesh and bone, her face the last recognizable detail that allowed the disturbed detective to present evidence to Peter.
Hacked skin that transformed his late sister into a human chuck roast, inducing horrifying night terrors. Sarah's red-painted body flickered in his subconscious like an everlasting flame that betrayed the snuffing gales of a raging typhoon.
The thing that turned his sister into this, murdering her in cold blood, returned like fear. An invincible concept that never ceases its onslaught, a force of nature that couldn't be predicted, stopped, or controlled.
***
He was laughing with his trio, gaze attempting to scan through the fog that was as opaque as steel. They wanted to find the next house to fill their buckets and bags with more sweets.
Their costumes slowly became wet from the dense condensation, slowing their movements as if wading through sludge.
They didn't see the bodies littering the ground, didn't hear the squelching of boots and sneakers against red-hot blood that turned the asphalt into an ocean of blood. Far too engrossed in their jokes and exaggerations of their beating on the city manic. They went into details that never met day, though they all implicitly believed every word like it was law.
The group, lost to their own musings, far too entertained by themselves, overlooked the screams approaching from the mist. The sprays of blood caught by the thick and wet clothing of their costumes, masks preventing the blood from splashing on their faces.
Once, there were three, but then a howl of pain quickly reduced the group to two. Duo spinning on their feet, horrifying realization struck. The Family-Dollar Micheal Myers was absent from their group, and neither of the remaining teens aware of when their friend was taken.
Another screech parted the fog like a knife, filling their ears like snow in a tundra. The girl stepped back, her body shaking in fear as the wails grew desperate. The muddled words vaguely resemblant their names, apologies thrown to Peter lost to the boy's sobs as pain took over like the most vicious of dictators.
***
Stabs riddled his body like a pin cushion. He felt the last laceration throw him forward, blood pooling out of his torn garments. Dark red on black, impossible to perceive with the eye. His mask, once white, was the only indicator of the unyielding bleeding spilling from each grievous wound.
Spit and tears melded with the liquid of life, turning the inside of the veil that covered his face just as red as the outer layer. Words were unable to escape his maw as pain and blood loss gradually turned his skin stark white. His pleading eyes, unseen through his mask, plead at the feet of his friend.
***
Jason felt heat rise in his throat. The body of his friend heaved towards him. His friend, the body of his friend, was swallowed up by the fog as he couldn't even see past his knees. Fright turned his body around, moved his feet, and made his lungs and throat bleed as they overtaxed his diaphragm.
Jason shoved down the fear-stricken Alexis, too self-absorbed to pay attention, let alone care, for his female friend. He ignored the confused and fearful shriek from the poorly dressed sinister nun. He needed to survive, and sacrificing his friends was not beyond his own survival.
His feet stomped hard against concrete and blood, the slick yet sticky liquid throwing him off his feet. He felt his jaw smack into a patch of grass, and tears began to pour down his face. Adrenaline masked the pain of his knee shattering against the blow of the concrete edge that separated the yards of houses from streets.
His body only moved forward, an unnoticeable limp in his step as he stumbled towards the orange, purple, and red lights. His 'run' was quickly impeded by the object that emitted the light. A tall blow-up decoration, his skull mask, and the heavy fog make it hard to make out the exact shape or design.
His arms flailed against the synthetic plastic-like fabric in a desperate but futile attempt to escape the hold of the giant inflatable lawn ornament. Losing in a wrestling match against an inanimate object, searing pain stabbed his lower side.
The tool, weapon, whatever impaled him, popped his inflated enemy like a balloon. One hand grabbed the item currently lodged in his abdomen and shoved down. The pain didn't register as his hand was nearly torn down the middle, separating his hand into two segments between the knuckle of his pointer and middle finger.
He felt a smile of success wash over his features as his body rushed forward again. The cold didn't affect him as he nearly tripled up a set of stone stairs, his ruby-dyed hands pulling on the guardrails of the elevated walkway.
A foot crashed down, no longer in contact with another step. He laughed manically, his hand grasping at the door handle and tearing the door wide open as his shoddy mask met the faces of a family of three. The two adults stood, shouting, but all Jason could hear was the ringing in his ears as he laughed louder.
Delirious and utterly detached from reality, the multiple shots from a firearm that tore through his body like spears didn't hinder his lumbering March toward the family. Shot after shot met his chest, and he still kept moving on willpower alone. He would sur—
***
Fred trembled, his outstretched with his pistol in the grasp of both hands. The tip of his handgun smoked after the barrage of an entire mag. The intruder didn't go down after eleven chest shots, so the final went to the head. Internally, he questioned if the apocalypse had begun.
Was he going to be the new Rick Grimes in a zombie outbreak? He didn't like the sound of that; he didn't want to follow such a path. Slowly, his head turned back to his wife and adorable little three-year-old girl, who was his whole life. He gave them a sad, shaky smile as he grabbed his receiver and cell phone from his pocket.
Unlocking his phone and rummaging through his horribly mismanaged apps, he located the 'phone' icon. "Honey, take Ellie to the-." His words died in his mouth as he saw his wife's face, horror scarring her features.
Expecting to see the intruder back on his feet due to some whacky Halloween bullshit, he spun on the ball of his foot. Without looking, he emptied the magazine, snatched another from his belt, reloaded, chambered a round, and fired. A pang rang out as if he shot metal, and his gaze met a towering figure.
Its body was dark grey, nearing black. Its frame was thin, with long arms that nearly covered the entire length of his body and three long scythe-like blades that replaced each hand. A thin triangular head that lacked eyes did nothing to hide the form of an apex predator. Its legs, bending in an anthropic manner, were meant for pure speed and power.
Fred thought of the siblings he saved seven years ago, and a single word came to his mind: 'Skalendir.'
An attempt to whirl around to tell his wife to run was prevented by the three slicing claws burrowing into him. Blood sprayed like a fountain, covering everything within range.
His body fell, sliding off the oblong appendages as he put the last of his strength into looking at his family.
He wanted to scream, to order them to run, but those slashes had cut through his lungs, upper intestines, and his hip. He was left alive, barely, though he was without a doubt he would die within a minute or two. Lesions like these were fatal, painful, and numbing.
His mouth cracked open as liquid drained from his tear ducts, his eyes worrying for the love of his life and the child he wanted to watch grow up.
A silent 'live' escaped his lips, and in return, the creature raged. A single claw ripped through his wife's head, throwing around brain matter like it was a bloody water balloon fight. Fred's mouth opened, his throat vibrating without noise as he was forced to watch as his wife fell backward dead.
His eyes were glued open as the creature moved to his bawling daughter next. More empty screams made no difference as weapons of death rose like the weapon of a Reaper. And then down, slashing into his little girl. His body shook in anguish and rage, unable to move as the creature's head turned towards him with a mouthless smile. Its attention was redirected back towards his daughter, already dead and bleeding like a drained swine.
The creature made a sound, a distorted and scratchy sound mimicking a laugh, as its claws expanded outwards on either of its limbs before they crashed down over and over again, tearing his beautiful little angel into shreds of indistinguishable burgundy strips of carmine matter.
There was nothing left of his daughter but the liquid that painted the floor and walls red, dripping down the blades of the monstrosity that was enjoying its work as it poked gashes into the hardwood floor of where Ellie had… where Ellie's intact corpse had once laid.
With a final look and another invisible smile, the creature fled out the door back into the mist.
Fred could do nothing, not even allowed to curse the creature out for leaving him to despair for the rest of his short and tormented life as his gaze was incapable of shifting from his dead wife and pulverized remnants of his daughter. He wasn't allowed to die quickly to meet his family in the afterlife. He was left here to wallow in his regrets as the scenes flooded his conscious thoughts like a plague.
***
Alexis curled in on herself against the ground, her lips mumbling out several prayers as the gunshots from the house rang off, ending Jason's deranged madness. The laughing halted, and her body shivered in despair.
The screams from Landon still echoed in her head, leaving her a quiet, sobbing mess on the road. Each sound around her made her flinch before freezing up. She didn't know what was happening and didn't want to deal with this anymore.
She wanted to be back in her room, lounging on her unusually rough mattress, watching some fantasy movies. Anything to keep her mind away from the horrors of tonight. She wouldn't mind hanging around Peter at this point. Everything was following his stories anyway.
He would know what to do; hopefully, he would put aside her and the two assholes' bullying, though. She was dragged into it every time anyway; all their parents were friends, and Alexis' parents expected her to get along with them. They were a bad influence, and thanks to their bad influence, they were fucking dead.
She sucked in a breath and, with fluctuating resolve, brought herself to her hands and knees. She didn't want to draw attention to herself and possibly alert the thing that left Landon in his state.
Alexis blurred everything around her out as she crawled, ignoring the sensations as her uncovered hands splashed through hot, sticky liquid heavy with the stench of iron. She kept her eyes forward, keeping in the bile that threatened to rise from her throat when her fingers squished into the entrails of the soft and wet corpses pried open like pumpkins.
Minutes of tracking through a sea of guts and skin passed like hours, digits squeezing warm clumps of deteriorating organ tissue, and limbs moving across exposed calcium structures that protrude from the cavities of the dead. Enough to drive any mortal mad, slowly infecting their mind with hysteria.
Disturbed, Alexis, with eyes dull like a dying rose, brought her gaze up towards the two incoming bright lights. The growl of an engine clawed itself through the muddled cadavers like a beast, giant rotating claws that crushed skeletal remains into shards and dust.
With unblinking glowing eyes locked onto its next prey, the metal creature bounded towards Alexis. A scream erupted from her throat as the vehicle was moments from crashing into her obscured shape. Ducking her head down, a sweeping wind flew centimeters over her lowered frame.
A screeching sound, like metal against metal, ripped through the ears of anyone with working eardrums. The involuntary screech of tires shocked Alexis into falling back. Illuminated by flickering headlights, a lengthy and grim figure with scythes for hands had stopped the stampeding mechanical beast. Another screech of metal and the hood was torn off along with wires and car parts, thrown to the ground and clattering on the shallow ocean that turned the roads red, like scraps discarded at the bay.
Alexis jumped, splashing in the red sea, as the creature's head shifted. Freezing like a statue, the beast turned its head towards her. Breath held like the dead; she did not so much as blink. If the flap of a butterfly in South America could become a hurricane in North America, she didn't want to see what a single blink could create in the face of a creature capable of turning a car into a heap of junk.
The movement of an arm, the fear that made her body again begin to tremble, and the shriek of panic made her jump. Her head smashed into the previous location of the monster's head, having already left to claim its next victim.
***
The scream registered in her ears, but she didn't see the driver stop. He kept driving, uncaring, as they had already driven over droves of dead bodies. The addition of another screaming survivor couldn't damage her consciousness after the first few.
The car slammed to a jolting halt, her head crashing against the back of the driver's seat. She felt her head grow fuzzy, her vision hazy as the world spun.
Holding her head in hand, the other stabilized herself on the cheap leather of the driver's seat. Taking in a long, deep breath, her lungs thrummed against her ribcage like an old guitar.
Releasing her breath, she shook her head of dizziness. For a moment, the effect was enhanced before fading. Slowly, her hand reached forward. She tapped the shoulder of the driver, her deceased friend's older brother.
Her finger met a hot liquid, and her eyes widened in realization. Her hand slowly rose from the shoulder, trembling as it glided into her view. Dripping red, a lump was caught in her throat. A cold chill, like freezing water, crashed through her system, and a scream erupted.
She was too horrified, her mind far too enraptured by the revelation that the last person she knew here was dead, to see or hear the car door being ripped off its hinges. The knives that sunk their way into the metal, foam, and leather unclamped their hold of the door, dropping it with a splash and a clang.
The noise finally shook the girl from her surprise. Her watery eyes looked at the black demon in the fog. Her voice died out, and her mouth gaped for words like a dying fish. Like death, its grasp shot forward. No sound escaped as her chest was drilled through. The three spears became an arrowhead.
Blood spilled from her mouth like a gushing stream as her eyes looked down at her chest.
Slowly, like a deer in the headlights, her vision was reset to the visage of death. Its head drew near, its blank triangular face twisting into a cruel lip-less smile. The joint where the arrow met spun, carving a hole into the woman's chest with the snapping of bone.
***
Alexis' body moved on its own, a survival instinct driving her running body forward. She was half-conscious, her eyes and legs working separately from her near-inactive mind.
The screams had already dropped like a coin into a well, gone forever to the darkness of the depths. Only to begin again; another group of children wailed as their tiny bodies were pierced, gashed, and torn.
All this flew over the girl's head in her rush, her partially impaired vision complimented by the fog to render her nearly blind. She didn't see the brick structure, the bulky and sturdy square mailbox making contact with her ribs and right arm. Thrown to the ground, she looked down at her lacerated sleeve, revealing her bleeding and gashed arm with gravely brick and cement embedded in her wounds.
Alexis closed her eyes as her left arm grasped at her injured arm with a vice grip. The pressure gave some relief, allowing her to retake full consciousness through the pain.
Reopening her eyes, Alexis turned around, still holding her bleeding arm. She laid her back against the brick mailbox, sliding down slowly as the coarse material hung onto the back of her costume.
A long exhale allowed her to catch her breath, tears building up again beneath her mask. Taking the initiative to better her situation, her scarlet-dipped hand reached for the hood over her head, let it down, and removed the rubbery plastic mask from her face. Her hair was dyed crimson through the cloak, and her once beautiful face was trailed with liquid and dried tear lines.
Forearms rising, they rubbed against her eyes as she cried silently. Ruby liquid rust smeared over the tanned caramel skin of her face, staining her like a tattoo. She shuddered in heaving sobs, shoulders trembling like a fault line as her lungs pushed and pulled against her bruising chest.
Each breath spiked with pain, and the likelihood of a cracked or broken rib is highly probable. The best option for her now was to wait this out. Sit still, make no noise, and hope for help.
Alexis didn't have the delusion that someone would save her; she knew an encounter in this thick fog was faint, especially with her hidden off to the side.
Crawling through enough death rendered her resembling the very corpses she had drug herself through. Fragments of bone, chunks of muscle, and scraps of flesh clutched to her thin fabric robes.
Alexis' realization of the material quickly led to her good arm releasing the latter, tearing a shred of the black fabric. Her effort rewarded her with a long, thin strip of wet, red-dripping cloth.
Laying the tattered ribbon of clothing over her bleeding arm, she slowly began to wrap it around. This was far from ideal, but even a temporary solution like this would have to suffice.
***
The six friends, all between the ages of seven and nine, thought the screams were from some haunted house decor. They paid little mind to their surroundings, and the fog didn't hinder their stumbling legs or detached care for everything else around them. To them, they were the kings of the world, standing on Cloud Nine as they marched messily in their arrogant young pride.
Nothing could stop them on their trek from house to house to obtain new pieces of jaw-rotting hardened corn syrup and fake sugar. Flavored like fruit and chocolate to keep the little shits addicted like crack house junkies. A multi-hour-long sugar high keeping their small bodies attentive and energized.
Their mouths smack obnoxiously with chewing candies, big-name candy bars, and oversized lollipops. Their small legs kicked over the jack-o-lanterns with simple and exaggerated designs. The voices in their heads, slowly molded by the excessive dopamine from glucose, brainwashing them into their impulsive actions.
***
The young posse didn't notice their numbers dropping to five, a child dressed in blue with a plastic shield completely helpless despite believing his indestructible shield to be the real thing. Like his arm, the shield was ripped through with ease.
His world was rocked; the confusion and disbelief left him in turmoil. The pain didn't ever register; too self-absorbed to recognize the missing arm as he stared down at the ravaged plastic.
A large, dark grey, anthropic leg rose. The massive foot hovering before the stunned child's face had claws like a vulture's. Grasping the child's head with two of the talons, the bottom-most dug up through the open jaw and out through the back of his head like the stinger of a titanous hornet.
Letting go, the skull remained mounted to the claw, the body dangling limply in the air as the creature tried to shake its dead prey off. Growing irritated as it kept attempting to remove the small child's mouth from its hook-like toe.
With still no leeway, the creature furiously slammed the body of the dead child against the ground. Bones snapped, and blood exploded from their chest as it exploded open from the sheer force.
Still, the head was not removed from the talon, so it did it again and again and again, slamming the small, broken, and lifeless figure against the concrete of the unlit and foggy walkway. One last strike to the ground released the small carcass from its unwilling grasp.
The body resembling what one expected being thrown into the turning gears of an industrial motor would entail.
***
The five children pattered their uncaring feet along the blood-soaked paths, eyes excitedly washing over the bright lights and noises breaking through the fog near the end of the street.
The house was large and stood above the rest. The outside was spray-painted rinse-off black and resembled a haunted mansion. Trees covered in toilet paper and fake blood marked the windows with hand prints and horribly drawn messages. Cars littered the driveway, and brightly lit cul-de-sac, and monstrous and ghoulish guests entered and left the open garage of the massive Halloween party.
The quintuplet all began to cheer excitedly, their short legs springing them forward. The fun-sized party crashers burst through the crowd of teens and adults, running past a duo of quarreling dogs.
The drunken attendees couldn't give any care to the small intruders. The party would go on anyway, all throughout the night and early into the following Wednesday morning. Five little shits couldn't bring much to the table.
So the party went on, five small children in the mix of alcohol, partying, drugs, and couch sex. The ignorance wafting off the manor like a spotlight in the sky, only further drawing in the creature on its hunt for its other five young victims.
Apples bobbed in wooden barrels of alcohol; detailed orange bowls were brimming with various candy and chips, and a figure stared at the house.
Taller than the ten-foot Jack Skellington statue that stood on the green and purple-lit deck facing the street, the creature took a step forward. The first few guests who noticed it gawked in amazement. Their awe was quickly snuffed out like the iring of a shotgun as one of the limbs with scythes for fingers flew up and came crashing down.
In a single slash, four bodies fell to the ground, slashed through cleanly as their blood turned the emerald grass vermillion. A flood of innards flooded the lawn, the onlookers viewing the carnage before they let out drunken screams and cheers.
The feet of at least twenty semi-rational guests began to scatter, fear driving them away as others were heaving vomit onto the ground after the display of unbridled violence. The creature left the ones too dumb to run as it began its hunt.
Speed like a sound, the blood-lusting beast darted off towards the running mass. Two sets of three scythes diced fleeing prey. One, two, three, four, five, turned into chopped meat.
The sixth had her chest blown open with a claw, her chest cavity splattered over one of the many green box transformers outside the house.
The monster roared, emitting a disgruntled, horrifying, mouthless screech that defied nature. Across the city, similar roars erupted like a howling pack of savage wolves. The creature allowed itself to fall into a crouch, lunging toward the next target as its arms clawed at the ground, digging at the grass and dirt.
The witchy woman wasn't given a chance as her body was carved like the pumpkin she was thrown upon. The monster murdered the eighth victim as it used its scythe-like claws to chuck a concrete gargoyle.
Crushed beneath the size and weight, the drunk Dracula was dead on impact as the mass of stone and dried paste ripped through his entire right side before crashing into the neighboring house. Most of the spectators quickly began to understand the grim severity of the situation, and more bodies began to flee.
The only way out was through the fog, so that's where they ran.
Others decided to hop in cars while the creature was distracted, haphazardly pulling out and slamming into other people attempting to flee. Many more couldn't move in their cars, surrounded by other vehicles, as they struggled to escape.
The first few cars to finally leave the mess veered off into the fog along with the onfoot escapees. It only took a few moments before an explosion shook the area, flames barely visible through the mist.
Illuminated by the flickering yellow, orange, and red, another creature stood atop a car that had turned into scrap metal. The terrified crowd still outside watched as two bodies, bisected and missing limbs, were ejected from the fog.
The dead crashed into the ground, tearing up the earth as blood and bone burst from their remains like carrion left under the hot desert sun. Creeping from the dense vapor, seven more creatures of close but varying size emerged.
Following the new group of atrocious beings, a colossal titan's shadow appeared in the deadly haze. Unlike the smaller but still massive creatures, the giant remained hidden in the miasma.
The survivors of the massacre outside fell to their asses and their knees, gazes locked onto the small army of dead. A single heart-wrenching scream ignited the onslaught, the eight fiends crashing into the mass like a wave. Shots from the firearm-carrying attendants were as helpful as attacking an ocean with a cup.
Shrapnel flew off the armor of the demons, even the joints bullet-proof. Flying and deflected bullets killed men and women alike. After a long and grueling two minutes of ferocious butchery, the creatures moved further into the party.
Outside, where the sport-hunted corpses litter the ground, bone, entrails, and blood replaced the water that generally supplied nutrients to the plants and grass.
***
Inside the mansion, the five kids enjoyed themselves. One, a bit too intrigued, watched the couple go at it like animals on the soft couch. Two were digging their hands through the bowls of sugary goodness, feeding the cavities invading their teeth.
The fourth was being paraded around like a mascot. The wasted mob that carried him above their heads rushed wherever the power-consumed boy pointed and shouted, 'Charge.' The entourage of mind-controlled giant drunk toddlers often being led to chase the two hounds around the house.
The last was on the ground, convulsing. His eight-year-old body wholly unprepared for the alcohol-chugging contest, the drunk party was far too excited to watch the small child try to take on the champ to worry about his safety. His body was tossed aside like trash after failing to meet the intoxicated horde's demands.
All the party-goers were far too ignorant of the blood-bath outside that had poured into the open garage. The music loud, small child-led army screaming, couch rocking, and chugging contest chanting. Hearing anything outside was almost impossible.
Screaming, pleas for help, banging on the doors, and screeches of the blades that belonged to the monsters rendering people and inanimate objects alike into a hotpot of human body parts, drywall, metal canisters, and the alcohol within them.
As the walls and doors came crashing down, allowing the creatures access to their newly packed and prepared victims, the extermination of life outside had already ended. The groups inside were far too plastered, the massive collateral damage just another minor hindrance to them.
***
Death loomed over each and every living soul in that house, the reapers gnashing their scythes against themselves. The first to sense the danger were the two dogs, their senses tripping like landmines.
The mutts rushed toward the danger in an attempt to protect their respective owners. The apex predators they came to face were creatures far too vicious for even them to overcome.
A single blade lobbed the head off the first pitiful creature, and the second pissed in its place as it stared and whimpered at the beasts.
With its head lowered, the dog shook in submission. It did its best to remain still. Any hostile movement might be seen as hostile, and the dog's instincts were to survive.
Sadly, instincts didn't always win out, and the dog was crushed beneath the step of one of the monsters. The mob and the kid atop that followed the canines all froze in fear as they came to look upon the dead animals.
***
With a scream, the charge spun around and tried to haul off their young master to safety.
Pouring in like ants, the atrocious entities began their subsequent genocide. The trailing members of the group were cut down first, quickly thinning out the troops.
Crimson flooded the marble-tiled floor, the bandwagon falling apart as they began to slip on the blood of their brothers and sisters. Like a falx, the sweeping edge cut down the mass of bodies. The roar of the creatures echoed inside the house, spreading fear through each occupant.
The boy atop his steeds cried, watching as his people were dying like moths to the flame. Beasts closed on him, tearing through his defenses till there was none left. With one last horrified shriek, the fiends lurched forward.
Hooks and blades tore apart the small leader, ripping open his chest and turning his organs into a bloody pool. Along with his mass of followers, the arrogant child died.
***
The two little bastards chowing down were startled by the screams. Immediately, the stuffed duo began to move. Their tired bodies couldn't take them far, the food making their stomachs ache as they looked for their friends.
The older of the two looked back, stumbling, pointing ahead toward their friend, occupied watching the busy people on the couch. "Right there, we can-" Cut off, the older boy's body was forcibly removed from his lower half at the knees. The younger began to scream, a claw wrapping around his body like a constrictor.
The previously entertained child looked back, eyes landing on the body of his friend, getting slowly crushed. His eyes began to bleed, bones snapping like twigs, and piercing flesh. Bile and half-digested food rose in his throat, spewing out along with half a gallon of blood.
The last living member of the six-friend group cried in sadness and fear, watching as the ribs finally exploded out of his friend's chest. Turning on his feet, his eyes washed over the bleeding and ruined bodies of the nude man and woman on the couch. Eyes slowly rose, meeting the eye-less gaze of the creature that gave him a mouthless grin.
He wasn't even given the moment to scream, his eyes flaring wildly as the death raged on around him. Not even sparing the group of chanting drunkards having their contest that killed and tossed one of his other friends.
***
Peter looked up at the sky, tears running down his face. The creature was right above him, the Skalendir ready to finally take him like his sister, when the unsettling roar ran out through the night. As if he weren't worth the creature's time any longer, it raised its featureless triangular head and let out a similar roar.
Taking the chance, he quickly ran. The monster was too engrossed in its roar, unwilling to even give any care for him as he fled. The first object he came across, he hid behind.
A startled scream met his action, and he fell back in surprise. The fog made it nearly impossible to tell, but he could see a figure laid against the structure. "Who's there?" He whispered hesitantly.
Rather than a verbal answer he expected, the figure pounced on him. "Peter! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Cried out a female's voice, tears splashing against his clothes. "I... I shouldn't have bullied you. Y-You were right! They... They were there. They killed them..." Sobs racked from the girl, her hands clenching onto his shirt.
Confusion and anger rose, but the overlaying emotions fell. He was too tired to be angered and any human interaction at this point was welcomed, even if it was with a bully… former bully?
Allowing the girl to settle herself, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself from his most recent escape. They both knew the horrors of these creatures now, the least he could do was help out a fellow survivor.
Raising an arm slowly, he set it on her head. He had a rough night, too. Escaping three different monsters narrowly, thanks to some stupid bastard's screams, somehow sneaking past the Behemoth Skalendir, not passing out as he traveled the bloody sea of the dead, and fleeing the last howling Skaledir.
"Let's stay here for a while. I think we will be relatively safe for now, " he said, petting the girl's wet and matted hair. Leaning against the brick structure, the girl huddled against him, crying over her late friends.
Exhaustion quickly overtook them. Too tired to stay awake, they closed their eyes. Neither saw the last figure that quietly approached their side.