the unholy visit
“Who … who … Demon … you … God?” His Eminence stammered.
“I am no demon,” the ancient voice wheezed from a darkened corner. “I am no god either,” it cackled.
“Please, whoever you are, please understand we are acting under the guidance of Ishtar; none of us partake in this with our own will,” His Eminence whispered.
“Ishtar, did you say? I made Ishtar and just between you and me, she is my finest work and prodigy out of all; you are clearly misdirected abusing her name in this manner. His Eminence? Is that what they call you?” the voice continued.
“We are all going to hell for this,” another priest whimpered.
“Please, whatever you need, we have plenty of food to feast upon and exotic jewels in our temple. Please … do not do this …” His Eminence begged.
“Yes, you are right, you do have a good spread of feast here tonight,” the ancient voice said, as the figure stepped out of the shadows into the light, the face still hidden away underneath the hood.
“You’re a priest like us? Or used to be one?” His Eminence said, observing the dusty robe.
“You ask too many questions,” the ancient one responded. “I only want her,” he said, pointing a long forefinger at Shuri.
“Me? Why are you after me? I do not know you and I did not partake in any of these activities! Why would you want me? Go after the evil ones,” Shuri shouted, terrified by the events.
“Oh, the pure one? Is this what this is all about? Is that what you are after? Please—take her, by all means,” His Eminence said. “Quickly— bring her to our guest,” he ordered the two nearest him.
“You want us to bring her?” the two priests replied, trembling with fear.
“YES! DO IT! Otherwise we will all be dead,” His Eminence snapped. The two ran after Shuri, who had begun to run—where, she did not know, yet still she tried to reach safety. The priests caught her before the altar of Ishtar and dragged her back to the ancient one.
“No, you are not delivering me to him,” Shuri said, struggling in their arms. They passed the group of women, who stared at her with blank, dull eyes.
“Are you all just going to talk or are we going to continue this ritual? I am getting all dried here,” one of the intoxicated women said, grasping the priest nearest to her by his robe. He brushed her aside and pulled Shuri to His Eminence. The old man gave Shuri the barest of glances before pushing her to the ancient one. Shuri fell on her knees at his feet.
“Here, you have what you wanted. Please leave in peace,” said His Eminence, stumbling over his words.
About the Book
Author: G.W. Lwin
Genre: Fantasy Horror
The plague of 1918 A.D:
The mortal world is in a state of devastation.
A woman wakes up in an abandoned temple of Kali, the goddess of darkness, in an ancient city of Gaya.
She does not know where she is.
She does not remember the events leading to this.
She only hears a familiar voice of a tormented man who has haunted her dreams.
He tells her a story – of a time of souls and suffering, of immortality and gods, of life and death.
This, he says, is Mesopotamia.
THE SAMSARIC is a fantasy-horror novel based on ancient vampirism, history and mythology. Set in an era widely considered to be the cradle of civilization, it is a story of once-powerful mortal races and ancient gods and goddesses to excite and inspire.
From a young age, I have felt that there were two versions of me: the old spiritual one and a young soul who still lives in his fantasy world.
However, both of these versions share one commonality – my interest in vampires from the ancient mythology and beliefs. I was mesmerised by their folklore since young.
The need to express is very strong within me. Writing, for me, provides this gateway and helps me to grow as a person. It is a life-long learning path that I gladly embark.
As a writer, I would like to improve each and every stage of writing, to possess the art of crafting words to communicate the emotions that arise from within to the readers … a vision shared by many authors.