a story about a force that takes over
|“ We are finished!” the speaker spoke into the microphone, and the crowd’s roar dulled to silence.|
“We, as a nation, as a people, as a race are finished,” He continued,” We have all seen the armies marching through our streets. We have all tried to stop them, but nothing works. We have tried guns, knives, fire without positive result.”
“We already know this,” A voice calls out from the back of the room, "What are we going to do?”
“My brother the only thing we can do,” the speaker paused for a moment before continuing,” we run, and keep running, until we find out how to fight them.”
“I am not running,” the same voice called out,” this is my home here, and I will defend it.”
“With what?” the speaker replied,” They are stronger than we are. They can’t be killed with bullets, and something I recently found out, they don’t take prisoners. How do you propose we stop them?”
“I have a way,” A voice came from the crowd, almost at the front of the crowd. The crowds noise immediately stopped giving way to dead silence, the crowd parted and this dark figure stepped forward and revealed himself to be an old man, his long black hair covered his face, what skin was showing was pale white, wearing a long black coat, that went almost down to his feet.
“Who are you?” the speaker asked with some serious apprehension.” And how do you propose we kill this army?”
“Kill?” he questioned as he made his way towards the podium,” You can’t kill them. But you can stop them.”
“Everything dies” the first voice called out in opposition.
“In a sense you’re right, everything does die.” He stated then paused,” except that which is already dead. You can only die once.”
The sound of laughter started moving through the crowd like a wave on the beach. And it ran through the crowd and smashed into the stage, and even the speaker began to laugh at the old man standing before him.
“Is this some kind of a joke?” someone said.
“I assure you, friends,” the old man spoke slowly as he made his way up the stairs leading to the stage, where the speakers body guards stopped him,” This is no joke.”
The body guard looked back at the speaker who nodded to let the old man through, as he seemed interested in what the old man had to say.
“What do you know, that we do not?” The speaker questioned, not really expecting an answer.
“I know these soldiers, after all I created them.” He said , which was quickly followed by a dead silence,” You see the reason they can’t be killed is that they are already dead, or should I call them the undead.”
“Now we know he’s crazy!” Someone shouted, and the crowd all laughed.
“Let me show you what I am talking about,” The old man said as he produced a bag of red blood-like material, raised it to his lips and began to suck the precious liquid out of the bag. Once the bag was empty, the old man dropped it, and just as it hit the ground, the form that everyone saw as an old man blew away like so much sand in a big wind storm, leaving behind a young looking man. His skin was no longer pale and his eyes were darker than the night itself.