Week #2

Prompt #3: World Storytelling Day (Epic)

Title: The Story That Lasted Thirty-One Days

There was a young woman all dressed in red, how craven she appeared when, waking in her coffin at the rising full moon, only to turn to dust at first light.

Half past eleven and the witching hour is getting near, they approach the chateau in silence, one full of cheer, one full of beer and the smart one full of fear.

Each step they take, leads them closer and closer to the grotesque iron gates, with a touch of the maiden's hand, it opens with a screech that would wake the dead.

Something about this place made the hairs on the back of his hair stand up, was it the sound of the gate, whatever, the screeching was chilling and sobered him quickly

Turning through the gate with the confidence of youth they could see the path ahead, it was paved with scarlet red human bones, shimmering in the moonlight they appeared to move.

Onward they tread, slipping and sliding along the hideous red path, they were fearless and eager to be the first to the gold, their greed outweighing any shred of common sense.

Rooks slowly circled the Belfry, dark shadows in the light of a silvery moon, disturbed by the noise radiating from the intruders below, heading for the flickering light in the window.

Yearning for blood from her slumber she stirs, nostrils flare with the intake of air, dilated eyes tremble when struck by the life-giving moonlight, and her fingers point toward the stars.

The sound of the iron gates crashing to a close echoed through the air, rancid with the vile gut- wrenching smell of centuries-old dismembered and decaying corpses littering the ancient courtyard.

Holding their breath doesn't help reduce the smell of death, and for the first time, their hearts are starting to regret their choices, as fear comes forward and their greed retreats.

At the stroke of midnight, the church bells toll in the valleys and vales spread below, shutters, windows, and doors slam shut as they prepare for the night of the dead.

Twitching and twerking the rotting dismembered remains of bone, gristle and tissue are about to begin their reunion dance, seeking to reunite the shattered bones and joints trying to become one.

Lost souls are forever imprisoned in purgatory, trapped by her spell and unable to pass into the world of the dead, doomed to pursue more poor souls and feed her immortality.

Acting on impulse they retreat to the gate, fighting their way through the grasping hands of reuniting limbs, now drenched in blood, they are no longer bothered by the foul stench.

Shit was the cry as they discovered it was more like a sluice gate as they waded ankle-deep through a river of blood that oozed from every facet of the gate.

Terrified they looked across the courtyard; their eyes were met by the sight of an army of limbs and disembodied parts dragging themselves remorselessly through the bloody flood toward the gate.

Eyes and ears are dangling from every visible orifice, how the hell do they know where to go, they're all moving in one direction, are they also heading toward the gate?

Dismissing any fear, they turned and faced the horrifying horde, surprisingly this wasn't a problem, they were just ignored, and the surging tidal wave of blood and bones swept on by.

Their destiny was no longer in safe hands, they had only one choice, return to the original plan, so with courage formed from desperation, they turned once more toward the light.

Hearts beating like drums, they screamed like banshees, adrenaline fused blood surged through their veins, provided energy and unparalleled power never experienced before, moving with the speed of a scolded cat.

In perfect harmony, black cats crashed against the impenetrable doors, there was no breaking of bones, as the doors burst open soundlessly, and they entered headlong, crashing unceremoniously into the darkness.

Raining down from above, poured a thunderstorm of blood, the walls began to degenerate, liquefied to slime, now knee-deep they stand in sticky sludge, and ominous red whirlpools begin to form.

Through bloody rain, swarmed a colony of screaming bats, lust for blood was not fulfilled, dodging whirlpools, rushing to reach the stairway, to escape their jaws, ripping flesh from succulent ears.

Youth was on their side as they tore up the stairs to the landing, terrifying creatures a cross between a monstrous hound and a colossal flea guarded all doors bar one.

Ominous beaks and claws scratched through the walls, swarming in clouds of red dust, herding them through the opening to a ballroom, where only men saw a beautiful woman in red

Nothing but her beauty was seen, and the sound of music was heard, with a wave of a hand, vermin she would cull, smiling she said, time to feed my pets.

Exited the ballroom, terrifying screams, tearing flesh, crushing bones and fresh blood spattered on the dance floor. In his finest, the survivor remained entranced waltzing in the arms of a temptress.

Doubletake, looking across the ballroom, eyeing each other, the femme fatale sees the unrequited love of a beating heart, and the secret lover sees the temptress for the vamp she is.

An involuntary movement by the secret lover sees her stripped naked and savaged by a flock of flesh-eating bats, driven to the floor with such force, that she's left for dead.

Yet she still has the werewolf token hanging from her neck, they sweep around the floor, and she awaits her chance, when passing she leaps plunging the talon through her heart.

Swallowing her last breath, with long golden nails the temptress slits the lover's throat, blood flows, but freed from her captivation, she falls into his open arms, sharing their only kiss.

Woah! How cool is this! Great Epic by NehpetsEnal