Always Time

© Bryan Beal

It is one thing to dip your toes into the unknown, quite another to play silly buggers with it and expect that everything will be all milk and honey. At the best of times, Helliosophus was not one for being woken up early in the lunar cycle. The keening of summoning spells in the aether simply got him out on the wrong side. Like Kronos scything off his father's nether regions, Helliosophus tore into the soul of the creature that was suddenly before him.

The stink was unbearable. Helliosophus hated the smell of the enfleshed almost as much as a rancid dog turd on a BBQ. Fleshbags didn't even taste that good. When he thought about it, he couldn't see much of an upside to his job. The screams were one of the few perks. Amon Amarth couldn't match them for volume or beauty.

This one was Hugh Butler, ex-wannabe warlock. Dumb maggot was on the ground in seconds, writhing and twisting like a worm caught in the sun. Yeah, ok, make that two perks of the job. The soon-to-be-late human convulsed in the dire agonies of its own demise. Helliosophus grabbed what he assumed to be something less than vital, giving it a good yank.

Butler fell silent. Stillness descended on Helliosophus.

Profanities that had not been heard on Earth in over six millennia spewed forth from Helliosophus' maws. Three more maggots blinked into his perceptions and he went after them. Fury drove him forward. He had to laugh at that. Useless Furies that needed someone like him to do their jobs.

A sulphurous claw wrapped around the spirit of one of the three humans. The same sickening stench flooded out. Sweat and flesh burnt and gagging. More careful this time, Helliosophus pinched the core of the soul. The sludgy pop was delicious. The sack of meat fell to the ground.

Sated, Helliosophus couldn't be bothered grabbing the other two. He had time. There was always time.