Beneath the gaze of the constellations, a dark silhouette crept through the ancient cemetery. The scent of damp earth and decaying leaves hung heavy in the air as his heart trembled.
Daimion was a man driven by insatiable greed and visions of eternal wealth. The wind bayed demonic howls while rotting maps and whispered tales guided him. Each step was careful, each breath both excitement and insanity.
Finally, he reached a mausoleum deformed by time, adorned with inhuman carvings. Stories spoke of an indigenous priest of El Dorado. Daimion’s spasming hand ready to unearth glory. Frenzied, twitching in pain, but hope rising with each scrape as he shovels through centuries of history, finally a chamber lay exposed before him. With bated breath, he pushed the massive stone cover
Now gazing upon the priest’s remains a gold knife glistened at its heart, inscribed with twisted symbols. A demonic echo whispers about the constellation Saurus.
Daimion looks through the hole above witnessing the hideous constellation. Stars shimmering brighter than the riches below; a vision project’s of sparkle but not beauty, light but not hope, wealth but not comfort; Daimion’s mind shatters, for riches were never meant for man.
About the Creator
Gerardo (Lobo)
A collection of Short Stories used in 13 transmission Youtube videos, and by writer Gerardo. If you're a seeker of truth, a challenger of the mainstream, and a believer in the mysteries of existence, you've found your tribe
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More stories from Gerardo (Lobo) and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Charles Hall and the Tall Whites: Wrestling with Phantoms
There is a place in the Nevada desert where the silence is so profound, that at night, it seems to stretch the senses of our reality. This was the place where young Charles Hall found himself debating his very own Sanity. It was the 60’s when Nevada was all about free booze, women and black jack, but for Charles Hall gambling was not to be done with his hard earned cash but for the fortitude of his very soul. Hall was a weatherman for the air force at the Indian Springs Nellis Air Force Base. His duty was simple: to monitor weather conditions and log the entries. Yet, as the sun of sin dipped below the desert horizon, arcane shadows were cast of twisted deformities across the arid landscape, Hall soon questioned if he was alone.
By Gerardo (Lobo)10 months ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
Ooh that’s a killer last line!! Great job!
Oooo, this was such a fantastic story! Very well written!
"Beneath the gaze of the constellations" caught my eye immediately! Excellent hook!