Genre Challenge – An Angel among Devils – Part Two

A Year ago I wrote a short story for the Haunted Wordsmiths Genre Challenge called An Angel Among Devils, see the link below:

https://talesfromthemindofkristian.wordpress.com/2020/05/19/an-angel-among-devils-a-short-story/

I reposted this post this morning and so I thought I would share some more with you. So, here is part two.

 

Chapter Two:

After telling him to follow, the ugly brute walked towards what appeared to be a plain wall, decorated with the same muck the rest of the walls seemed to be coated in.

Inspector Tanner glanced back towards the main bar, no one was looking their way, but he knew that though everyone appeared ambivalent, it was deliberate. They were all looking towards where the smartly dressed guy had gone, running out the front door, they now pointedly ignored him and you could cut the atmosphere with a blunt vibroblade.

“Are you coming or what? If you want to stay and get yourself killed, that’s fine by me. I’ll deal with whoever they get to fill your shoes.”

The man with the snake tattoo looked back at him and where there had been plain, gut splattered wall before, there was now an open door.

Inspector Tanner stood up and followed the man through the door and into a dingy back alley.

The man then pressed something in his pocket and the door was replaced again by a solid wall.

“Look, who are you?” Inspector Tanner asked.

“We can’t talk now. That other guy, he’s gone to fetch his gang, we have to be as far away from here as possible. Follow me and keep your head down. I know a safe place.”

You didn’t get far in his line of work without developing an instinct to know who to trust, well he had to admit, his instinct had let him down by approaching the wrong guy earlier, but now he was sure, in order to get out here with his life, he had to follow this man, regardless of how he looked, but it still felt like he being rash.

After taking so many twists and turns along the dark back alleys of the most dangerous district in town, they finally came to a halt in front of another concrete wall.

Again, the man pressed something in his pocket and a blue light flashed down the side of the wall and it twisted to form an opening.

“Quick, in here,” he said.

Ducking through the doorway, Inspector Tanner found himself in a kitchen, pots and pans hang on hooks from a metal rack suspended from the ceiling and a delicious smell of cooking filled the air along with the steam.

Almost hidden, he noticed a woman standing in the corner stirring a large pot with a wooden spoon.

The big man sat down at a metal table and grinned, baring his mouth of gold fillings and missing teeth.

“Now we can talk. Sit” he said pointing to a chair opposite him.

As inspector Tanner took his seat, the woman walked over and ran a gentle hand against the ugly man’s face, a look of adoration in her eyes, made him gasp with surprise.

‘What could such a beautiful lady see in this brute?’ The inspector thought.

Instead, he asked the same question he had asked earlier, “Who are you?”

“I am the man you were supposed to meet, the one who has been passing information to you for the past two years.”

“You’re ‘Fallen Angel’? You can’t be, surely?” The inspector responded sceptically.

The man the unbuttoned the front of his denim shirt and displayed another tattoo painted over his bulging chest muscles of a figure, with horns coming out of a head bowed, and two wings spread either side of him. It was a contrast to the brightly coloured snake tattoo on his arm, this was painted in pale colours that seemed to shimmer in the dingy light of the steamy kitchen, strangely understated.

“This is the Fallen Angel,” He said grinning. “It is who some of us worship here in Hells Campus. Well, those of us who want a better life for ourselves and our people. The Fallen Angel is a symbol of redemption for us. That no matter how bad our crimes, we can put them in the past and work towards something better.”

The Lady brought over a bowl of soup and placed it on the table, again that look of deep love crossed her face. She had large brown eyes, set wide and slightly tilted, her dark chestnut hair covered the left side of her face and then nearly reached her slim waist. Her dress was plain and dark with a touch of black lace around the collar. Her lips were full and bright red but seemed at purse into a petulant scowl when she caught the Inspector looking at her.

The man calling himself Fallen Angel must have also seen him, because he said: “This is Marita, she is my wife.”

Changing the subject, Inspector Tanner asked about the other man, the smartly dressed one who he’d mistakenly thought was his informant.

“He is known as the Accountant. He likes to count things, a toe, an ear, that sort of thing, usually when he is cutting them off his victims. He is not a nice man. Even here, in a district where most people have had to do unpleasant things to survive, he stands out as evil.”

Marita pulled back the hair to expose a scar where her left ear should have been. It spoke far more than words would have done.

Inspector Tanner kept the shock he’d felt out of his voice and calmly asked, “And he works for the Armstrong Gang who’s been responsible for the recent murders?”

“The Armstrong gang are small fry, they are yesterday’s men. It’s true they used to run things down here, but that was before another group came along, bringing with them a new religion. I said some of us worshipped the Fallen Angel. Well, some believe that we have nothing left but to embrace the darkness. this new gang Diablo De La Muerte, they worship Santa Muerte, the lord of murder and death.”

“I did not realise that religion was to blame for all the recent killing,” Inspector Tanner said.

“Hasn’t religion been behind most of the killing in History?” The man responded. He had a look of a religious zealot himself. A look of Marvellous ecstasy in his eyes. This man was as much a fundamentalist as the people he opposed. However, he seemed like the lesser of two evils in this case.

“Tell me everything” Inspector Tanner said, pulling out his recording crystal.

 

***

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 26/April/2019 

 

This story also contains the following Word Prompts:

 

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/04/26/rdp-friday-rash/

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/04/26/marvelous/

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/04/26/your-daily-word-prompt-worship-april-26-2019/

FOWC with Fandango — Lady

https://lightmotifs.wordpress.com/2019/04/25/three-things-challenge-pl71/

Today’s prompt: accountant, toe, lace

 

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2020/05/19/understated/

FOWC with Fandango — Ambivalent

 

 

 

 

 

Multiple Word Prompt Poem – Things that Last

I’m Reposting this poem that I wrote back in 2018. I hope you like it.

 

Inspired by the following word prompts:

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/08/14/redolent/

Redolent

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/08/14/your-daily-word-prompt-natural-august-13th-2018/

Natural

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/08/14/rdp-75-blue/

Blue

FOWC with Fandango — Substance

Substance

Things That Last

It’s only natural, I suppose,

That time makes fools of us all

A redolent aroma, up the nose

What rises up must one day fall.

A man of substance falls from grace

The skies, once blue, will turn to grey

Crumpled lines cover his perfect face

As time marches on from day to day.

The rotting decay of things once fresh

The aches and pains of ageing bones

All things must pass, our form, our flesh

Carved epitaphs on bare gravestones.

There are things that last beyond our time

That we can pass to our next of kin

Like, knowledge, wisdom and love sublime

Our kindness marks us deep within.

 

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 14/August/2018

 

Inspired by the following word prompts:

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/08/14/redolent/

Redolent

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/08/14/your-daily-word-prompt-natural-august-13th-2018/

Natural

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/08/14/rdp-75-blue/

Blue

FOWC with Fandango — Substance

Substance

Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge – The Last Holiday

This was written in response to the Go Dog Go Cafe’s Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge.

Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge November 6, 2018

The Challenge:

Here are 3 words to spark your imagination for a piece of poetry.  BUT, you CANNOT USE these 3 words in the poem.  What images, feelings, emotions do they conjure up for you?  Good luck!

gray, wind, echoes

 

Here is my response:

 

So drab and colourless,

the sky loomed overhead

And brought that doom-filled feeling,

The one I’ve learned to dread.

 

I scream into the void

The dark and dangerous abyss,

The breeze whips away my scarf.

I hear a resound, a sigh, a hiss.

 

“Come, on Jump” I hear them say,

A torment from a fateful past,

I step back from that final edge,

This was not the first time, nor the last.

 

I did not surrender, I didn’t fall

I had the strength and found the way,

This time I did not heed the call,

of death, that final holiday.

 

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 07/November/2018

 

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/11/07/rdp-wednesday-holiday/

 

Manic Monday’s Three Way Challenge – The Final Release.

This Poem was written in response to Laura M Bailey’s challenge. See Link:

https://alltheshoesiwear.wordpress.com/2018/10/22/manic-mondays-3-way-prompt-deadly/

You may also wish to read my previous entry for the 3-way challenge:

https://talesfromthemindofkristian.wordpress.com/2018/10/18/manic-mondays-3-way-challenge-the-ice-witch-of-norway/

Screenshot_20181019-112200_Google-01

 

The maiden softly sleeps,

Free from the ravages of time

her heart no longer weeps

perfectly preserved in her prime.

 

Her chest neither rises nor falls,

She’s released from his hateful endeavour.

from his faithless and lustful calls, 

Her eyes have closed forever.

 

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 22/October/2018

 

 

 

Life’s final journey – Poem for two voices.

As you may know, I am currently taking a break, but wanted to share some of my earliest posts with you, that you may have missed. 

This was one of the very first poems I wrote and published on my blog on the twenty-second of March. 

All the best 🙂 

 

 

 

 

Will you walk with me awhile?

I don’t want to walk alone,

Over hill and country style.

I fear the path on my own.

 

Yes, I’ll walk with you awhile.

You don’t have to walk alone.

I’ll be with you every mile,

you are never on your own.

 

Will you sit with me anon?

I will tell you of my sorrow,

though the day is nearly gone,

we can talk about tomorrow.

 

Yes I’ll sit with you anon

and I’ll listen to your sorrow.

My time is never gone.

You’ll walk with me tomorrow.

 

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 22/March/2018

 

A Multiple Word Prompt Story – A Fatal Alliance.

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/27/alliance/

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/09/27/rdp-thursday-hirsute/

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/09/27/fowc-with-fandango-eager/

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2018/09/27/three-things-challenge-27-sept-2018/

Today’s things are: death, humor, stupid

 

It was a most unlikely alliance.

Death held out a bony hand, protruding from his black flowing cape. The other hand still grasping the blood-stained scythe.

The other figure stood on two legs in an awkward fashion, with its body stooped as it grasped deaths hand in its own. One bony the other fleshy and hirsute.

The figure’s heavy brow raised and it gave an eager grin. Death had granted the creature and its descendants the ability to learn and evolve.

Death, being a skeleton, was incapable of smiling but he displayed good humour in other ways.

When the stupid figure lumbered off to continue its lowly existence, Death skipped off in the other direction, jumping and clicking his heels in a show of triumph.

Stupid though this creature was, Death knew that it would eventually evolve into an animal that would be responsible for more deaths than any other.

He had made an alliance with humankind’s ultimate nemesis: Humankind.

 

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 27/September/2018