Violet Sky


This was the dusk Slate had been waiting for. He sat on top of the hill, taking sips of pure dark rum from his silver canteen. All around him the forest and lake were settling down for the night. He could hear the calls of birds and wild animals echoing. The wind rocking the trees and the lapping sounds of the lake.

Slate swirled the rum around his mouth. Enjoying the dark warm spices, before swallowing. It had been expensive, but worth it. The sea pirates always had the best stuff, even though trading with them was a high risk. He won’t go anyway else now though for his precious drink.

He slipped the canteen into the inside pocket of his black leather duster coat then slowly withdrew his gun. The thing was an antique; all silver, gold and wood, but it had been super modified. It was a double barreled, electrical generator, quick fire baby. With one finger, Slate lovingly stroked down the gun’s left side as if it was the leg of a beautiful woman.

‘Your the only lady I need at my side,’ he purred to the gun.

He almost pressed the side of one of the barrels to his cheek, but stopped himself. Something was shaking the trees below and the forest had fallen eerily silent. The last of the sun’s pink and burnt orange streaks give just enough light for him to see the creature taking form.

His breath caught in his throat for just a moment, then he quietened his breathing as much as possible. Switching his gun hands, he brought his right hand up to the machine that covered that eye. It was a complex mechanism of microscopes, colored glass, cogs and many moving pieces. He moved the settings around so that his biogenetic eye could see. He shut his other eye and focused solely on the scene below him.

Straight away, it seemed he was down there and meeting the creature eye to eye. He drew back a little, being gentle with the sensitive controls. He saw the full view and that the creature was the demon he had been tracking for months. Slate smiled. He had always known tonight was the night.

Slipping his gun away, he drew his canteen out again and took a mouthful. He swallowed, relishing the taste before putting it back. Slate got his eye piece to map the best way to go then set off. He walked carefully, but with purpose and tried not to be loud. Yet the forest was against him in this because it was all ready late autumn. Dry leaves and twigs crunched and cracked under his heavy platform boots. Bare branches snatched at him, snagging on his long hair and coat. He knew being the second only thing moving between the trees didn’t help this noise.

However, Slate was there fast enough and standing on a high ridge looking down into a ancient bomb crater. The demon was below him and it was breathtaking. It seemed to be the skeleton of a giant rhino. The bones were all ice white and joined together with a stretchy grey skin, which looked fragile, but was as tough as steel.

The rhino turned its head up as if sensing something and Slate got his first look at the monster’s face. It was extremely rhino like; with two large horns coming off the top of the snout which looked like the tops of snow cover mountains, the wide face and large ears. The huge nostrils flared and the eyes that rose to meet his were pitch black.

Slate grabbed his gun and fired. The silver bullet ripped through the night, shattering the pause that had held the forest. A tail of red and blue light followed it then here was an explosion of sound and electricity.

The demon screamed and roared in one. It reared up and tried to charge out of the crater.

Slate fired again and kept going in quick secession. There was no other way to bring this thing down. Luckily, he had been packing special bullets for this hunting mission. Keeping his focus, he aimed for the head area, knowing soon he’d hit an eye and get into the brain.

The demon rhino had started to bleed out thick black blood, but it was showing no signs of slowing down. It kept trying to plough up the side of the grassy slop, however there was very little grip for it’s smooth flat feet and heavy bulk. With a might cry, it changed tactics and threw itself head first at the side of the crater.

Slate felt the earth shake from under him. He reached out to grab the trunk of a nearby tree. His hand brushed it then he was falling. His feet slide down and he lent back to keep his balance. Slate surfed down the soil as the rhino pulled out, shaking dirt everywhere. For a second it seemed that the demon would turn away, but then those black hell eyes saw Slate and the rhino put his head down again and flicked out his horn.

Slate dodge to the side and felt his legs give way under him. Pain shot down his side and he knew the horn had caught him. Tumbling into the crater, Slate scrambled to his feet, even though burn like pain had seized his muscles. He two handed his gun, holding far out in front of him. It was the only barrier between him and the demon now.

The rhino monster turned. Bones crunching together as if breaking and blood dripping from a half shot away face. A single eye fixed on to Slate.

Slate backed slowly up. He shut his good eye and looked through the machine one to perfect his aim. He squeezed the trigger on an exhale of breathe and felt the gun kick back in his hands. Blue and red waves danced before his eye then he opened his other one and saw the rhino was stunned.

He stepped forward, getting almost too close, before he fired straight into the demon’s head.

The rhino let out a gasping groan and crumbled to the floor.

Slate took in a deep breath of cold night air. He smelt the acid and decaying blood of the demon. The bitter taste of victory bubbled on his tongue. That hadn’t been worth the fight. He let his shoulders drop and his gun fell to his side. At the back of his mind he knew he was badly injured and in pain, but for the moment that could wait.

This demon hadn’t actually been the one he had been hunting.

He wasn’t sure how he knew that. Just that it was the fact. His mind wheeled and he wondered over the sinister nature of it all. The agency were doing this just to taught him, he concluded. They didn’t think he was good enough anymore….Well, he’d show them. Slater Gordon was still the fastest monster killer in the west. With that, he turned, put his gun away and slipped out his rum again.



(Inspired by Sue’s image prompt at; with thanks.)

Cold Call

Diesel’s phone ringing cut through the silence he had so carefully created. Gritting his teeth, he dug around in his army jacket searching amongst everything else in his pockets for the device. Quickly, his fingers closed around his phone and pulling it out, he stole a look over the top of the burnt out car he was hiding behind.

He answered the call of the unrecognised number, whilst clutching his large gun tighter, ‘Hello?’ he hissed into the phone.

‘Hello, I’m looking for Mr. Holtman?’ a male voice with a heavy Asian accent called over a crackling line.

‘Speaking,’ Diesel replied as his eyes rolled across the semi-deserted cityscape before him.

‘I’m Nathanial, calling from Interlink Surveys and you have been selected to take part in our most recent survey. It’ll take only two minutes of your time and you’ll be automatically entered into our prize draw, where you could win a new car or a holiday or shopping vouchers.’

‘What?’ Diesel spit into the phone.

‘Sir, I shall only take a few minutes of your time and your opinions matter dearly to us,’ the voice of Nathanial pressed into his ear.

‘I’m in the middle of something right now,’ he answered and shifted the gun slightly in his lap. Still casting his eyes around, Diesel thought he spotted a movement to the left, beside an abandoned store. Fixing his gaze there, he balanced the front of the gun on the side of the car’s bonnet and keep the phone to his ear with his shoulder, ‘I really can’t talk right now,’ he emphasised.

‘It’ll only take a few minutes, sir, please. And you’ll be entered free into the prize draw,’ the desperate voice stung his ear.

‘I really can’t,’ Diesel explained and hung up.

Sucking in a deep breath, he concentrated again and saw a number of growing shadows coming up along the building wall. Growling, he patted his jacket and finding his grenades, brought them out and set them at his feet. A low moaning sound brushed his ears and Diesel froze. They were coming.

His ring tone blasted out, causing him to jump and scramble for the phone.


‘Sorry, we seemed to have got disconnected. Now Sir, can I confirm that you are over the age of twenty-five and own your home? Nathanial’s cheery voice came through the speaker.

‘Fuck. Don’t you know what’s happening in this country right now?’ Diesel yelled.

‘Sorry, I misheard that,’

‘Yes, I am and do. Now get off the line!’ Diesel screamed and tossed the phone away.

A loud clattering echoed as the phone bounced along the road before hitting a blown out tire.

Twisting his head back, he saw a zombie looming over the car at him. Letting out a pent up scream, he squeezed the trigger of the gun and shot off half the zombie’s face. Blood and flesh exploded, raining down on them both and the remains of the car.

Diesel shuffled backwards, backhanding some stringy red muscle strands on his face and took aim again as the creature paused to assess itself. The next bullet lodged into its skull and the zombie fell backwards, revealing many more of its fellows stumbling forward.

Swearing, Diesel scooped up two grenades and unpinning them, threw the bombs into the coming enemies. Grapping the others, he legged it and ran back to his base.


On the desk before him was a leather notebook, a small white dice and a handgun. Resting his head on his hands, he thought over again what he was going to write down. Then taking a pen, he flipped to a random empty page in the notebook and began writing. He let the words fill the page without pausing or double checking his spelling. He just needed them out of his head and to see them on the page.

We don’t always grasp what is important.

We loss so many moments and don’t realise.

We go through life on rolls of chance dices.

We think that’s the way it should be, but really,

It never has been, just like I shouldn’t have been.

 Once done, he set the pen down and picked up the dice, which he played around with. He re-read what he had put and decided it would do, because he knew he’d never be able to write all of his thoughts and feelings down. With his other hand, he grabbed the gun and put it to the side of his head. He pressed the trigger and the dice rolled out of his hand into a small mouse hole in the wall.