The Writer's E-Zine Home

Writers' Village University - F2K: Free Fiction Writing Course - ePress-online
Writers' Village University Membership Information

Fiction Short Story

by Jerry Race

Ring of Darkness

The moment his eyes opened, Diego Vargas could feel a warm breeze sweeping over him. His back was pressed against something square and hard. When he tried to move his arms, he found they were bound to a wooden post behind him, with his wrists tied together. His entire body was numb. The stench of his own urine clogged his nostrils.

Someone had heaped dry twigs and branches around his boots.

Blurred images of an approaching crowd shifted before him. The flames of their fiery torches danced in the warm breeze. They stopped in front of the post and, from the fringes of the crowd, an old woman who had scraggly gray hair and was wearing a ragged, dirty dress, approached.

"Diego Vargas," the old woman yelled up at him. Smiling, she waved her fiery torch. "Do you hear me?"

“Si. I not only hear you, I can smell you, you filthy whore."

"You will be burned alive for all the murders you committed in this village. Do you understand?" She pointed a grimy index finger at Diego. "Your spirit will not enter the gates of hell or heaven." Her gray eyes glared at the black onyx gem in a gold setting on Diego's finger. "Your spirit will become a prisoner in that ring on your finger, the very ring you stole from my husband when you killed him and our only child. Do you understand?"

"Si."

"Kill him!" the crowd chanted. "Kill him!" Kill him!"

"It is time," the old woman said. She thrust her torch into the branches and twigs. Other torches followed.

Flames ignited the branches. Orange and yellow flames leaped upward until they wrapped around Diego's boots. Red-hot rage burned furiously through his veins, every corpuscle coming to a boil hot as lava. Unbearable pain flowed through him. Blood pounded in his temples. He growled.

The whites of his eyes became crimson, pupils with slits formed over his own. His boots fell off as his feet turned to claws and burst through them. Then his hands changed to claws. Coarse black hair sprang up from his skin as wings sprouted from his back, growing to massive proportions as his arms melded into them.

The crowd shrieked at the hideous sight. Balls of fire shot from the flames and flew toward them as his wings flapped furiously. The crowd ran screaming toward the haciendas.

The old woman tripped the frightened man next to her, bringing him down with her to the ground. The crossbow he'd carried fell between them. As a ball of fire flew over them, she grabbed the crossbow, aimed it at the Diego creature and squeezed the trigger. A pointed wooden stick soared through the night air and penetrated the creature's chest.

The old woman and the man rose together, gawking at the creature as it faded into Diego's charred body. "The deed is done," she muttered, handing the crossbow to the man. Both turned away from the post and headed to the haciendas.

Diego's spirit floated out of his lifeless body, drifting upward until the old woman's remembered words sent it spiraling back down. Your spirit will become a prisoner of that ring, a prisoner for eternity. Unable to resist, the spirit fell into the black maw of the onyx and sank deeper and deeper into the dark void until it was completely absorbed and a white light of great intensity flared.

© Copyright 2003 Jerry Race


About the Author
Jerry Race was born in Los Angeles, CA on September 2, 1944. He was raised and educated in Tulsa, Oklahoma and currently resides in Portland, Oregon. Ring of Darkness is his second short story to be published by T-Zero. The first, Daddy's Dead, was published in January of this year. Jerry is a Vietnam vet and has been a member of WVU since 2002. He's learned a lot and has received valuable feedback from his peers in WVU. Ring of Darkness is actually the prologue of a novel he is currently writing. Thinking the prologue would be a good short story, he submitted it to T-zero. His URL is http://www.angelfire.com/ca6/boys