Hades: A short story by Mike Cole

Hell. A place long forgotten, a land of dead Gods. Tales have existed since the dawn of civilization. His search was over; the long forgotten forest had been found. A lifetime of research had led him here, an insignificant forest located on the Underbelly of Volcán Wolf, thought to be the Oceans end. The land was scorched and the ground gave a molten hue. Embers sprinkled the landscape and lava poured from the volcano into the Ocean, creating steam as the heat touched the surface of the water. The sun was beginning to set and as it hit the scattered boulders with a crimson glow, he thought he could very well be among the land of the dead. Night enshrouded the island.

With a torch in hand, he kept moving. He could feel death creeping slowly and every now and again he would see a shadow move out of the corner of his eye. He walked through the charred forest until he reached the cliffside, jagged rocks awaiting him below. He slowly began his descent.

The Ocean greeted him as he walked down the narrow cliffside, finding it strange that a path had seemingly been carved into the rock. Lava began flowing from the cliff above and violently splashed down unto him; he felt a searing pain in his right arm. His flesh began to burn and melt. A wave crashed and his arm turned to steam. When the mist cleared, his arm was bone save for a few tendons still attached. He didn’t much feel the pain, adrenaline having done it’s work. As he got closer to the water, snow began to fall; how odd. Fire and Ice, two entities that typically don’t coexist. The snow swirled, blinding his vision and he awoke in a cold sweat. He did not remember drifting off and the ever present snow was gone; had it only been a dream? The wind whistled in a tone that almost sounded like whispers and rain began to pour; soon, thunder and lightning would follow. He entered a cave near the volcano.

Water fell on his head. It felt warm. As he went to wipe it off it lingered on his hand, refusing to yield. He moved his torch so he could see what appeared to be a red substance, with a smell of iron. He heard rushing water and looked to his right. A red river? He blinked and the water was crystal blue. Was he dreaming or was he awake? Thunder struck outside and the rain howled with the wind. The howling grew louder and louder, no longer seemingly coming from outside but rather deep within the cave. The torch flickered as a gust caught hold and the shadows danced around him. Three heads began to form; the Torch went out and there was silence.

And thus October has begun. As the blog continues to grow, I am grateful for the support. I enjoy writing and have been thrilled my poetry and short stories have been so well received. As I’ve brainstormed ideas for the blog, I decided on a month dedicated to the spooky and supernatural. This will be the first of hopefully many Octobers where I focus on the scary and the beauty of the changing of seasons. I hope you all enjoyed this short story inspired by Greek mythology! As a reminder, if you would like to support me as a creator, below is a link to my Patreon and Ko-Fi pages!

Support this Blog!!!

If you like my content, consider following, liking, and sharing with others who might enjoy. And as always, thanks for reading! What are you most excited about for the month of October? What are you doing to celebrate the season? Let me know in the comments below!

Midnight Dance

He felt his eyes close. Shadows danced as a train passed and his light flickered on and off. The clock ticked to midnight. The walls had long since lost their charm, with the wallpaper peeling, slowly. He got up and washed his face in the bathroom, trying not to inhale the mold as he entered.

He had liked his old neighborhood; off the river, in a quaint, little suburb where life seemed to stand still. But the new job was too great an opportunity to pass up.

The bathroom light began to flicker as he soaked his face in the sink. His hands began to feel numb, so he turned the faucet to the left and stumbled his way back into his single bedroom. He checked the time; it was one. He crawled back into bed and lay, staring at the ceiling. The wind began to howl and the sky began to pour. His eyes scanned the room and went slowly from the window up the wall. There was a crack and water dripped as the rain fell.

A flash of lightning and the shadows grew more pronounced, making shapes in the dark. He checked the clock and it was two.

He had heard the neighbors whispering the day before. He had said hello and was met with worried looks. A year before, the previous owner had committed suicide. When the police had come, they had only found a pool of blood and a finger, no body. The pool of blood trailed off to where the crack now laid and tiny scratches left their marks on the hardwood floor. The police theorized that he had gone insane, cutting off his own finger and then gutting himself before driving his car into the river. However, this was just a theory.

Another drip of water and the clock hit three. Another flash of lightning and the shadows seemed to inch closer to the bed. He heard a tapping on the window and another flash. The light bulb shattered and he was in utter darkness. The train passed and he could make out the outlines of a face; he was not alone.

Hi all, it’s been a bit! I’ve been extremely busy but felt in the mood to write, so here we are. As you are aware, I’ve started diving into short stories and have been mostly be doing fantasy and near-future apocalyptic story-lines. As Autumn has come around, I thought it’d be fun to dive further into horror. It’ll be sloppy at first but I’m hoping to improve through practice. Hope you enjoyed this piece and as always, feel free to comment below!

%d bloggers like this: