Clouds of Blood |2|

A dystopian horror story. Serialised in short chapters.

Previously part 1

The bloody rain kept pouring all day, until the winds chased away the humid air, and a crimson moon rose over the desert. It was the day of the feast, harvest moon for the desert-dwellers, a pack of men feasting on charred human meats, and drinking fresh blood from rusty tin cups.

“A good day, Shamani! A good day!” One of them approached the giant sitting under the canopy of blood-soaked rags and metal scrap; the leftovers of the world that once was. A fire burned near him, while the giant cradled a grown man in his arms. A crying infant he was in everything but size. He had finally settled, enveloped by warmth.

Shamani nodded silently.

“Are you gonna keep him for when we run out of meat?”

Shamani gave him a dark stare from underneath his grey eyebrows.

“We do not eat living flesh,” he rumbled low.

“The living becomes dead just like that. Quick and easy,” the man cracked his own fingers.

“Quiet, Buck. Do not wake my son,” Shamani replied rocking back and forth.

“Son? He didn’t come from your seed. He didn’t come from between the thighs of a woman. He is foul-born. We feast on the fallen,” the man called Buck spat bloody saliva onto the moist sand. He had been drinking the blood of the foul-ones raining from the sky.

“He was given to me by the Beyond.”

Buck’s thick beard couldn’t hide his grin.

“He won’t live. The foul one’s never live.”

Shamani straightened his back; he was almost as tall as Buck even when sitting. A giant, with long grey hair painted crimson from the bloody rain.

“You will not feast upon him. This is my son. Given from Beyond. He’ll sleep, and grow, until he’s ready.”

“Ready for what?”

Shamani’s dark eyes reflected the newborn stars, until his heavy eyelids erased them.

“The Beyond whispers about him. My star is fading. His star rises.” Shamani spoke with his eyes closed. He didn’t see Buck shaking his head.

“The strongest becomes Shamani. He won’t live till the next day of the Bloody clouds.”

“He will live.” Shamani opened his eyes. His sight - razor sharp - made Buck flinch.

Buck kicked the sand, shaking his head, and mumbling a curse.

“What are you gonna call him?” He asked after the silence of the desert night lingered. The rest of their pack settled around the fire gnawing on the bones with their bellies full.

“Cry,” Shamani said, giving the sleeping clone a tender glance.

Buck’s raspy laughter rang into the night, echoed by howls of wild dogs in the distance. They too had feasted on the fallen clones. When bellies were full, enemies became friends, if only for a night.

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Read next chapter here: Chapter |3|