Story Time With Uncle Nacht

[Nachtnoir]

Well kids, I decided to try something new. I collect old movie serials, like "The Green Hornet", "Buck Rogers", and "The Shadow". I thought it might be fun to do the same here with stories. So this space is where it all is going to happen. Every week, I'll add a little more to my story.

Sort of like the cliffhangers of yore. I'll try to add a sense of excitement and hopefully you'll wanna read the next episode.

Our first episode introduces our Hero, Damon. He's on the run, but the monsters chasing him aren't all that different from you and I. It's a rather long tale, so don't hate me if I prolong his torture for a while. You all know how I love my torture.

So, sit back, cuddle up to the person next to you, and enjoy.

[Nachtnoir]

The shadows moved. Damon did not know how much time had passed. They were still out there looking for him. He knew it had been days since his last food. There had been that drink yesterday, muddy puddle miles behind. The mosquitos didn't appreciate their home being disturbed.

A few had taken their toll though. Damon scratched his cheek where they had made their withdraw. He smiled a little, "They won't be getting much more of that."

They sky was grey, the color of ash. The sun now shunned the Earth. Damon only knew the word, he had never seen it's light.

The alley was dark, much like any alley in the now dead city. It used to be the jewel of civilization. Once the great towers that now stood as gravemarkers to the acheivement of man had been filled with light and life.

Signs stood all over the place. Their meanings lost to someone who was never taught to read. His tribe did not think such things were important. Now they were gone. Hunted. Killed.

Damon was the last. The last of his tribe. The last of his kind.

The voices were getting louder now. Damon turned to run. The wall at the end of the alley stood before him. Cornered he slumped to the ground.

Trembling with fear, Damon looked to the opening of the alley. Two men walked past in conversation. Moving on without looking in his direction, they were followed by another. A child's ball bounced into the opening. Moments later it was followed boy a small boy.

The boy hummed a familiar tune. Damon's own mother had sung it to him. The words were gone, but the tune jolted his memory. Stopping to pick up the ball, the boy turned and looked Damon directly in the eye. Through the yards of separation, a moment of fear filled Damon.

Continuing his tune the boy grabbed up the ball and winked. Skipping to catch up with the men. Damon remembered to breathe. He realized that moving would be a good idea if he wanted to continue.

The rooftops were little refuge, but the fire escape was already down, and running out of the alley did not seem the safest course. Those men could already be on their way back.

Damon took some time on the steps. Rushing would make noise. Noise would bring those who hunted him.

On the roof, Damon ran. The buildings were built close together, jumping from one to the next did not pose a great problem. He ran until his lungs burned, and his clothes were soaked.

Stopping to catch his breath, the columns of smoke drew his attention. Damon knew what they were. He had seen many of them in his lifetime. The bodies of his people fed the fires that the smoke billowed from.

Exhausted, Damon sat against the low wall of a stairwell house. This vantage gave him the view of all the activity around the fire. Hundreds of figures moved about. The bodies of his tribe were piled like cord wood.

The fire would burn for a long time. Damon watched as more men arrived and replaced those that had been throwing bodies into the blaze at regular intervals. The smell of burning flesh did not phase them. They actually reveled in it. Dancing around the fire with wild abandon.

Sleep began to drift over him. Damon's eyes slowly lost their focus. After a minor struggle sleep won, and he drifted away. The ashes of his brothers filling his lungs.

[Nachtnoir]

The rain awoke Damon. It was wet and cold now. Had been for some time if the feeling in his joints meant anything. Cold concrete was a poor choice for a place to sleep.

Damon stood. An outline of his body remained on the concrete. Ash and dirt in the shape of Damon. He smiled.

"I wouldn't lay about too long if I were you. They'll be around in no time. Best you get up and run." The tip of Damon's worn boots smudged out the lines. At least this version of himself was safe.

The wild dance had ended, but the fires still raged. Hurried shapes darted out from the safety of cover to toss a few more bodies on before bolting back under the overhang of a nearby building. There were fewer now though. The others more than likely off enjoying a meal, or sleeping.

Wishing to be able to snuff a few of the out in their sleep filled Damon's head. He was weak though. His tribe had called him a runt. With no food in his belly, he was an even smaller figure.

He moved to the end of the rooftop opposite the fire. Luckily the fire escape was on this side. Rusted through in places, Damon felt leary of it. He looked around. The only other option was to go back the way he came. That boy had more than likely already told the two men he was with, and even now searched for him in that direction. No, he decided, it was down here, or death.

Gingerly, Damon stepped of the edge and down onto the first rung of the ladder. It groaned slightly, then stopped. He would move down fast, but lightly. Lingering on any one rung would probably tear the whole thing down.

The first landing was bad. Half of the metal grate it had for a floor was gone. Rusted and bent, the half that remained didn't look like it would win it's battle for life for much longer. Damon edged himself along the wall. The strongest section was the part connected to the concrete.

Standing at the top of the first section of stairs, Damon paused. His breathing rushed. Slowly, he gained control. The quiet of the slow rain began to dominate. In the distance he could swear he heard humming.

His blood went icy. Damon frantically scanned around him. The alley below was empty. There were no signs of life in any of the windows that faced him. Fear overtook him, he bolted.

The clang of the metal beneath his feet reverberated loudly. Damon's heart pounded in his ears. Taking the steps two at a time, he stumbled a few flight down and almost missed the corner. Catching the railing as he was about to go over. The sharp metal cutting into his hand.

Stopping, Damon looked around. The humming was louder. But he saw no one. Blood began to mix with the water. He looked at his palms.

"Great." he muttered. "They'll be on me in no time now."

Taking the last few levels quickly, Damon dropped through the hole where the ladder should be. It was gone. The hard concrete jolted his still sore joints. There was no time to check himself, he ran.

Rain began to pour. Driving what remained of the dust and dirt from his body. The pangs of hunger no longer something he could push back. But still he ran.

[Nachtnoir]

Damon ran. Ducking into shadowy doorways, and behind the piles of rubble they enemy had began to build. Retaking the city seemed to be one of their goals.

Imagination became as terrible a foe as the real. Damon saw faces in dusty windows everywhere. Like smoke and clouds the faces disappeared with second looks. His lungs burned and his heart ached, he still ran.

Slow eternity drained by. The broken pavement stretched in a never ending gauntlet. Damon felt his resolve beginning to fade. But revenge kept the fire in his guts stoked.

Resting under an overhang, Damon began to catch his breath. The pounding in his chest began to subside. He had to think.

Eating was a priority. Damon knew that his body was already cannibalizing. Each day he was getting weaker. The enemy had done a good job of removing anything that would sustain him. They always missed things though, he just had to find it.

"GRRRRROOOOOOOOOOWWWWWLLLLLLLL!!!!" said his stomach.

"I know, be quiet." muttered Damon in response to the pleading.

Looking around, for both better cover, and likely prospects, Damon caught an open sewer grate in his view. The darkness of the underground was as good a place to look as any. It also would be good to be in the cool for a while.

Scanning the street in both directions, Damon bolted. He was only in the open for a few seconds, but it would be long enough for them to see him and give chase. Diving for the ground, Damon slid into the wetness, the pounding rain giving him a good cushion to land in.

Not pausing, Damon slogged into the tunnel before him. The water ran around his legs, going deeper into the tunnels. He followed.

Long hours passed and Damon trudged deeper downward. Each successive layer of the city's underbelly revealing more and more to him. Those that built this place had been extremely advanced. Periodically, the hum of machinery still came to his ears.

Lights meant to work forever indeed still did. Damon wished they were still here, and those that wiped out his people had never come. It was empty to think so though, the past could not be changed. Down he continued.

Empty containers littered the floors. This was where his brothers must have stayed. Until the enemy found them and killed them. Damon searched the piles, hoping that they might have left a morsel for him, but they had not. Anything that was left had been scavanged by the rats. But the rats were gone now too.

The insistent pleas of his stomach began to turn to pain. Damon clutched his stomach, almost falling. The tears wellign in his eyes, blurred his vision. He stumbled on.

Bright lights ahead beckoned him. Slow step after step he went on. To one side of the tunnel a doorway stood open. Along the walls beds stood. The covers ruffled as if someone had gotten up in a rush and not made them. The center of the room was dominated by a huge table. On it rested refuse, and dishes.

No food remained from the last meal the table had heald. The cold box on the other side of the room caught his attention. It hummed to him. Like it was some angelic creature offering a miracle.

More a quick gangly stumble than a run, Damon crossed the room. Expending all of his energy in the doing. He fell at the feet of the machine. The latch of the door just out of reach.

Darkness took him.

Damon awoke, weaker and confused. Covered in sweat, he turned his head, scanning the room around him. His head was heavy, but he saw he was alone. The cold box towered over him.

Slowly Damon sat up. Lifting the latch of the door, the cold air hit him. Goosebumps appeared on his skin, and the occupanying shiver ran up his spine.

It was empty, save for a can of some liquid. Damon could not read what it said. He was leary of opening it. But it was cold, and the people who had put it there were long gone.

The can made a "POP! FIZZ!" as Damon pulled the tab that opened it.

Putting the can to his lips, Damon took a small sip. The drink was bitter. But down in the depths of his stomach, it warmed him. After a few seconds, he put the container back to his lips and drank it down.

It did make him feel better. Damon stood after a few minutes. He was more than a little light headed. He fell against the counter beside the cold box. Steadying himself, he began to search the cabinets.

There was nothing edible. The maggots and rats had done their business a long time in the past. The only thing that remained was a box of hard bits with a cat's picture.

Damon grabbed the box and threw it across the room. It's contents spilling over the floor.

"Why am I the last?" he asked the empty room. "One of the others would not be so weak? Why did they leave me!?"

The bits crunched under his feet as Damon crossed the room and collapsed in the bed. The warmth in his belly spreading upwards into his brain. Crying, he laid there staring at the ceiling.

[Nachtnoir]

Time was not something that was measured and passed out. The knowing of it passing no longer ticked by in second, minutes and hours as it had in the past. Damon did not know how long he had laid there, drifting in and out of consciousness.

It was long enough for the drink to fade away. Damon's head no long felt like it was made of brick, and the room stopped spinning. But he did not move. There was no reason to.

Food had not become available, and Damon felt his body growing weaker and weaker. He rested a hand on his chest, feeling the ribs poking through his thin shirt. It wouldn't be long now. He had seen it before.

The wasting was bad. His eyes would be the first to go. Over a day or so, they'd lose their focus, eventually, everything would turn white. Then it would be his mind as this body sapped every bit of energy it had to keep his heart going. During the whole process his stomach would go through a series of body racking cramps and spasms. And it would eventually stop as would he.

A crunching sound brought Damon out of his mind. It sounded like gravel being walked on. Without moving, he shifted his eyes, scanning the room. There was no sign of where the noise came from, but it was in the room.

Slowly Damon sat up. The springs of the bed creaking, the sound almost stopped his heart.

On the far side of the room a shadow moved. It was enough for Damon to see what was causing the noise.

A large grey cat stood in the shadows cast by the large table. The floor around it's feet were now bare of the chunks that had spread over the floor when Damon had thrown the box.

The cat's large green eyes blinked once as it returned Damon's gaze. The hunger almost made him lung across the room. He had eaten more than one cat in his life, but this one was not in much better shape than he.

The grey fur than covered it's body was matted in places. Skin hanging from it's bones, it would not have made a good meal. Damon was now in far worse shape than before. Now two mouths were hunting in a place were there wasn't even food for one.

Damon tried to stand and shew it. It didn't budge. There was food on the floor, and by the look in it's eyes, it didn't plan on leaving until it was ate.

"Well pussy." smiled Damon. "At least one of us will eat."

"GRRRROOOOOWWWWWLLLLLLL!" came the noise from Damon's stomach.

The cat's ears perked. "MROOAAAWWWW?"

"Yeah, thats right. The big stupid man is starving to death." muttered Damon as he slumped to the bed and grabbed a handful of the hard bits that the cat was eating. "Guess I might as well see what is so good about this stuff."

Damon tossed the handful of pieces into his mouth. They tasted like burnt meat. The outer crust contained all the flavor, while the insides tasted like dirt. Fighting the urge to gag, he swallowed.

"The rest is yours pussy." said Damon as he laid back with his feet on the floor. "I think you like this better than I do."

Watching the cat for a few more minutes, Damon dozed a little. The sound of crunching continured. The humming returned in his dreams. He could almost remember the words now, he saw his mother's face, her lips moving with the music, but they would not reach his ears.

The smell woke him. Damon looked, the cat was still there, but nearer. He could almost reach out. Snapping it's neck would be so easy. Skinning it would not me a priority. As hungry as he was, the fur would tickle his throat, but he would get it down.

"MRRROOOAAARRRR?" said the cat.

"It's only natural." smiled Damon. "You won't live much longer anyway. There's only a little of that food."

The cat was looking at him, rather his feet really. Damon sat up and looked at the floor. At his feet lay something he had lost all hope of ever seeing.

The rat was not the biggest he'd ever seen, but it was a good sized one. The wounds of the cats, teeth were recent. Small patches of red.

Tentatively Damon reached down. The cat only watched on. He wrapped his fingers around it, it was getting stiff. It's spine was broken.

"MRROOAAW." stated the cat.

"You are a good cat." smiled Damon. In a second he had separated the head from the rest of the body. It took another few to peel the skin away. The west sound it made only making his mouth begin to water.

Scooping out the organs, Damon tossed them towards the cat. It had no qualms eating them.

Savoring every bite, Damon's eyes returned often to the cat. It had gone into the depths of the underground to get this, and it shared with him. "Maybe I won't eat you after all. It might be good to have someone to talk to."

"MROAW." muttered the cat as it laid down on an area it had cleared of the food.

Tossing the bones into a small pile on the floor, Damon laid back. His shrunken stomach full, his eyes closed again. Within seconds he began to snore quietly. Snores blended with purrs as two new friends napped with full stomachs.

[Nachtnoir]

They repeated the cycle for some time. Damon would wake to find another rat. They sat across from each other eating, then they slept.

The cat, who Damon had taken to calling simply Pussy, never got near enough to touch. It had probably been chased or wounded by those that lived above in the city.

Damon did like the cat though, and wanted to touch it, to clean it up. The wound that he had seen on it when it first arrived didn't look like it was healing properly.

In places, Pussy's grey fur was falling out. The mange was setting in, and it smelled. Damon had to do something.

The counter beside the cold box held a basin. Damon knew what it was. His tribe had one. The knobs controlled the flow of water from some deep place. Turning them would release the water, and the basin would fill.

Damon hoped that the water would still come when he turned the knobs. Not only did he need to bath Pussy, but he would die without the water. Pussy was getting it somewhere, but when he tried to follow, it disappeared in the darkness and he almost got lost.

After eating Damon got up and moved to the basin. His legs were a little shaky from laying down for so long, but he made it there. The basin did not look very clean itself. Dust from the years of sitting unused, some sort of fungus, and a few rust spots called it home.

Hesitantly, Damon reached down and turned the knob. At first nothing happened, then from the depths, a groaning shook the pipes. It made Pussy jump.

"MMMMRROOOOOOAAWWWW!" it yelled.

"I know Pussy, but I'm thirsty." replied Damon.

The downspout began to sputter. Red colored water began to spit out of it. After a long time, it began to flow. Gradually it changed from red to clear, and Damon stuck his lips to the stream, and drew it into his mouth.

Gulping it down, Damon felt better. His swollen tongue felt good to be surrounded by the cool water. He let the water run, as he began going through the cabinets again.

Damon hoped he might have missed something when he was looking on his first examination. Food, something helpful, could be hidden in the back of them.

Under the basin, Damon found a large red metal box. Pulling it out, the lid fell open, with a cacaphony of clanks and digs, the contents spilled to the ground.

Sitting on the floor beside the pile, Damon picked each piece up. Looking carefully at each before putting it back in the box. It was obvious they were tools of some sort. But he could not figure the uses of them.

One was a rather long piece of wood with a heavy piece of metal attached to one end. Damon could think of a few things to do with it, but none of them had anything to do with repairing broken things. It almost made it's way back into the box, but he kept it out.

There were a few other pieces that Damon kept out. Putting them to the side, he continued his search.

It took a while, but Damon found very little that would be helpful. There was another box of the little bits that Pussy ate. He laid that on the counter for later. As well as a few threadbare towles, he found some hard pieces of soap. Pussy was not the only one that needed a bath.

Damon looked down at himself. He was covered with sweat. A little tired from the search, he stood. The water still poured out of the spout and down the drain.

Sticking his head under the flow, Damon peeled his shirt off. In a few places it stuck to his skin. The water from his head trickled down his body, Along the way it picked up the dirt and mud that clung to him. The further it flowed, the darker and dirtier the water was.

He was too tired to finish the job. The bunk behind him beckoned him. Damon obeyed. Shuffling his feet as he walked, he noticed Pussy was gone. Deep in the city the cat hunted. Damon only hoped the rats were as plentiful down there as were the rats that lived above ground.

[Nachtnoir]

Hey kids. Uncle Nacht is extremely sorry and embarrassed to not have posted anything here in so very long. It seems the temporarily Damon's story has alluded me. Eventually it will return and I will finish it, but for the time being I will tell another tale. This one is stong in my head and is yelling to get out. Apparently it is exceedingly dark and frightening up there and it wants to get out into the light of day. So now I will tell of Angels, Devils and Dan.

[Nachtnoir]

The world around Danny Oswald couldn’t have been any less exciting. Mundania had invaded and refused to retreat. This simple fact drove him to increasing levels of frustration and anger. It seemed that at 33 he only had memories of youth and joy to keep him warm at night,

Those that knew him were surprised that their friend Dan was so sad. As spectators in the life of Dan, they felt left out because their lives were truly as mundane as he complained his was. To them he was visited by amazing levels of fortune, the flip side of that was that he was also prone to monstrous misfortunate events.

His love affairs reminded them of nothing short of miraculous levels of romance and love, there were also ones that compared to Shakespearian Tragedies. Dan, a fairly normal man, slightly overweight, more often than not had lovers as beautiful as Venus and Adonis. The phrase “playing out of his league” came to more than one friend’s mind.

Dan didn’t see this. Few were as unaware of their true situation as Dan was. He didn’t see that his highs were in the stratosphere and that his lows were in the molten core of his world. He didn’t feel special. But in all reality he was. And he was soon to find out just how special.

Today Dan had to give a very special presentation to a new client. His firm had put all of the pressure, as well as all of the work on his shoulders. His co-workers gave him equal measures of hate for the fortune of such a prestigious job, as well as pity because they knew that at the last moment he would fall prey to some unfortunate and unforeseeable accident. They were not wrong.

“So you mean to tell me that “My dog ate my homework”?” said the evil, monstrous, behemoth that Dan saw before him. “What, are you in junior high? I won’t buy that. I would have been happier hearing I got drunk and pissed all over it. You blame a poor dumb animal instead of accepting that you weren’t up to the job. What a loser you are. I can’t believe I hired you, Worthless!”

In all actuality Dan’s dog was quite intellectually superior to all other dogs, but we will find that out later. For know, Dan felt the fumes of hate deep in the pit of his stomach. His co-workers listening at the door were truly frightened. And they knew that the woman that was Dan’s boss was not in reality how he saw her. She was not a 300 pound behemoth, she was just a normal, average woman. Perception was a very emotional thing to him, and hate tended to overwhelm reality and taint how he saw things.

One step away from reality in the Ethereal and the Infernal directions, a pair of twins stood nearby to Dan. Both were very intent on Dan’s actions. One had a grin from ear to ear, while the other seemed exceptionally worried. A glance would show that their differences, though minute meant a world of separation. Both had long flowing blonde hair, wings on their backs, and gifted with exceptional beauty.

Hand under his chin, concern deep in his eyes, Davhial, the one with the white wings of a dove, this was one of the differences, spoke. “You had the dog eat the project? Why would you do that? How very droll and uncreative. I expect more from you brother.”

Through the massive grin Sammial, the one with leathern wings of a bat, responded. “Its and oldie, but a goodie. And it took hardly any effort. A little scratching under the chin and a whisper in the ear.”


“You realize that he is about to have a very bad episode.” worried Davhial.

“I know you are trying to make a point in that somewhere, but I fail to see what you think I am going to be worried about.” grinned Sammial. “My boss put a gold star next to his name in The Book. That means he is important to us. My job is to draw him into the dark.”

“But having him dead and starved on the street will not work to either of our ends. You know just as well as I that he is wanted by both of out bosses. And now is not his time.” replied Davhial in an uncharacteristic angry tone.

“I think that you are blowing this way out of proportion brother.” said Sammial smile gone from his face. “You are the one that broke him and his last male lover apart. If you recall that one little act put him in a most dire and suicidal frame of mind. You didn’t seem all that concerned then.”

“I did find him a more than adequate replacement. And she did not place his soul in jeopardy. The boss wasn’t happy that he had sexual relations before a proper joining, but it was much better than being with a man.” answered Davhial.

“And here I thought your boss was all about love. Seems that maybe his love comes on strings, and he is ready to take it away if you do something to make yourself happy.” smiled Sammial.

“OH SHUT UP!” yelled Davhial. “You know I will not be drawn back into that old argument!”

Sammial did not speak, the grin of satisfaction on his face was enough to bring his brother back to reality. Heat came to Davhial’s face at the realization.

“Dear father forgive me for that moment of weakness.” prayed Davhial. “You did that on purpose. Careful brother. One day you will see the might that HE gives to his Angels. Now be quiet so we can see the spoils of your action.”

Dan turned to storm out of the office. It was the safe move, it would keep his job, a reprimand in his employment file, maybe a drop in pay grade, but a job none-the-less. His hand was on the cold steel of the door knob, he even began to turn it, but he stopped. The beast coiled in the pit of his stomach turned and so did the lock as he once again faced the evil creature behind the desk.

“Worthless? Now you listen to me you fat troll of a woman. Without me this company would have folded long ago. You sit behind that desk and bark at everyone here. You have no talent, that is why you are a supervisor. Your husband once whispered to me that he has to close his eyes and beg for a mental image of someone else when you roll over in the night. Did you ever notice that people get off of the elevator when you get on? It is because you are so fat that they worry the elevator will be unable to function. That your massive weight would cause it to crash and kill everyone." yelled Dan.

At each sentence, Dan moved closer to the woman behind the desk. The look of fear on her face would have been apparent to anyone else, but to him is was a leer of evil. Unconsciously he wrapped his fingers around a marble nicknack that the woman had on her desk. Sammial muttered something about stupid women that the things that they put on their desks, no one heard, not even his brother. He was too wrapped up in Dan.

Dan lifted the thing, this time everyone noticed, everyone but himself. He was still blind to anything extraordinary in his life. What he was about to do would be considered that, in most people’s minds.

“Davhial!” yelled Sammial. “I think now would be a good time for you to intervene.”

Shaken from his fear induced trance, the White Winged Davhial stood and waves his hands.

The cold steel of the knob was in his hand, Dan so wanted to turn and give the evil behemoth bitch a piece of his mind, but he opened the door and stormed out. Behind him the woman screamed that he had better shape up, but he only heard the boiling in his stomach and the slam of the door.