Well, I thought I would finally get around to the final edit of my new novel "Dark of midnight" so I could release it within the next month or so, but I found that Windows 7 locked ALL my documents to include my manuscripts and I cannot edit, copy/paste, or anything. Now, I will have to rewrite the entire thing if I wish to publish it. So far I have written the beginning of the novel, not much, but it's a start.
Here it is. I hope you like it.
Dark of midnight
Basilisk didn't blink as it watched her from the shadows. The lovely queen of Karay looked out the window at her ruined kingdom. Her flaxen hair was swept back in a fishtail braid that draped over the shoulder of her heavy black cloak. A slight breeze played with the wisps of hair that framed her heart-shaped face.
Basilisk's cat-like pupils dialated from amidst blood red orbs as it studied her. It couldn't see the color of her eyes from that distance, but remembered their soft amber glow from another life, a life that was long since gone.
Normal beings would not have been able to see her as well as Basilisk's even with the light from the torches that illuminated her small frame from the grounds below her window. Basilisk was different, however. It's sight was better than that of a cat's in the rich of midnight. She didn't seem to notice it watching, anticipating the moment it would take her.
"Soon, dear lady...very soon," it hissed beneath its breath. For now, it had to feed and its next meal waited. It slinked off into the night, quiet and unseen. The soughing of the wind it made and the giant lizard-like pattern it left in the dead, dry earth were the only evidence of its presence.
Its talons clicked on the stone floor as it scurried into the castle's dungeon. The guards had never seen it since they were otherwise preoccupied with their desperate and futile attempts to save the kingdom. No one ever went near the dungeon anymore, not since Basilisk had unleashed the darkness on it. The people shied away from the evil they surely felt seeping from the dingy, damp walls below the castle.
Basilisk squeezed through the confilned space of the hall, feeling the cold, irregular stones pressing in on its slimy body. The long spikes jutting from its spine lightly scratched the ceiling with a screeching sound that echoed back to its ears. A normal person would have no difficulty fitting through the tunnels beneath the castle, but something as massive as Basilisk had to make quite the effort.
Basilisk could have taken another form, but anticipation was too overwhelming. It could not concentrate hard enough for the change to happen. It was worth the difficulty though, especially with dinner waiting and Basilisk was ravenous.
It smelled the delicious fear on the man it was about to consume. That particular emotion made its food taste remarkably better. Because of this, Basilisk held its prey captive for long lengths of time. It periodically gouged small portions from their flesh and ate it in front of them to increase the aroma of fear that wafted from their tormented bodies. Their terror grew the longer it kept them, which added to their flavor like a succulent marinade.
There he was, the savory little snack. Tears streaked down the man's dirty face and his bloodshot eyes were swollen from lack of sleep. Of course, there was no way the pathetic man could sleep knowing he would soon become a very delicious meal.
Basilisk chuckled low in its throat. The man's skin, torn in places where the creature had sliced away tasty bites, trembled as if he were freezing. But, it wasn't cold in the dungeon. Basilisk used magic to raise the temperature to sustain the life of its prey. No, the man wasn't cold. He was terror-stricken.
The man shook; his eyes grew wide, bulging in their sockets. He strained against the chains that bound him, but to no avail. They only clattered against his efforts and bit deeper into his skin. Delicious, warm blood trickled down his forearms and dripped onto the dirt floor. Basilisk's nostrils flared as it took in the intoxicating scent. The musky air was instantly ripe with the smell of it.
Basilisk's pet leaned against the wall nearby, her tan cloak hanging limply from her petite frame. Her dull, brown eyes were vacant, but she smiled sweetly. She had pulled her mousy hair back in a bun and although she was not a pretty woman, she was somehow cute with her large almond-shaped eyes and the minute splash of freckles across the bridge of her turned-up nose.
She had the ability to rip the voice from anyone she wished. When the victims screamed, she ripped, and Basilisk devoured. Her power was the only reason the creature controlled her. Just like the man sobbing soundlessly from amidst the thick chains that kept him prisoner, she had never stood a chance against Basilisk's powers. She had soon given in, becoming a mere puppet. She would never remember any of this if she ever escaped, but that wasn't likely to happen.
The scaly creature watched with amused curiosity as the man quivered. It relished in the escalating terror that mantled its victim's face from the exertion of trying to scream. Veins bulged in the man's neck. The vessel protruding from his forehead looked as though it might burst at any moment.
Try, try, but you'll never make a sound, little man. Basilisk snickered at its prey's weak struggles for freedom. Yes, be afraid, be utterly terrified. The more fear you have, the more delicious you will be.
Dirt flew through the air as the man kicked furiously. One foot hit Basilisk's front leg with a dull thud. It was only a nuisance.
Dislocating its elongated jaws with a gruesome, snapping sound, the creature's mouth opened to a massive cave of razor sharp teeth. Its scaly body shuddered with excitement akin to arousal.
The mouth of its prey gaped in a silent a scream as the freckle-face woman worked her magic. The dirt between the man's legs darkened as his bladder released its contents. Basilisk didn't mind. It was nothing more than a touch of salt that seasoned its prey.
The creature quickly sunk its teeth into the soft, quivering flesh protecting the man's vital organs. Bones
cracked, snapped, crunched. Warm blood erupted into Basilisk's mouth. It trembled with pleasure as its meal jerked and feebly struck out at his attacker. Crimson fluid spurted from the man's mouth. His eyes bulged then slowly dimmed in the last agonizing moment of life. Yes, fear did taste delicious.
This is only the intro and it appears the new program I am using to write this has absolutely no spell check to help with typos and it keeps messing up my formatting when I try to save. Wow, what a headache this is going to be.
