After completing Delivery and Resupply, I turned my attention to the last story for my patrons, a horror tale. While I didn’t know what kind of story I would craft, I knew the character who would help me explore this upcoming narrative. While I’m lucky to have fallen into this character, thankfully, I’ve fallen into a wonderful one when I penned Open House. Despite not naming him in that installment, the next time I needed to write a horror story, he jumped to the front of the line and, by his third story, he warranted a name.
With the proper character selected, I turned my attention to his latest story. It took me a little while to come up with the idea of his latest hunt. While I’ve always highlighted his skill and ability, this time I wanted to focus on his convictions. Looking through history and my own personal experience, you learn a lot about an individual when they’re up against long odds.
Find your most comfortable spot and join me as we witness Solomon’s latest hunt for things that go bump in the night.
Tasked with hunting beasts that prey on honest citizens at night, Solomon glides through a dense fog searching for these monsters…
Solomon flowed across the dimly lit street, confidence exuding from his every pore, while his eyes darted frantically, searching the dense fog for threats. Before his foot hit the ground, the hunter swiftly spun around, his shotgun raised and aimed at the encroaching wall of mist. A nervous anticipation settled in, causing him to instinctively lick his dry lips. With a determined grip, he pulled back the pump, confirming his weapon was ready to fire.
“Waiting for these monsters is what’s going to kill me.” A soft grunt slipped through his mouth as he forcefully closed the chamber and retraced his recent path.
After a trio of cautious steps, a loud snapping twig yanked Solomon’s gaze. However, as the shotgun trailed, a massive blow slammed into his back, driving him into the concrete. With a ragged breath, he rolled to his right an instant before a cloaked figure plowed into the ground, fracturing the walkway. A moment later, his weapon roared, unleashing a horde of projectiles that ripped through the empty fog.
Solomon leaned forward and climbed to his feet, but as soon as he was standing, a second blow crashed into his shoulder, pitching him into the damaged path. Without giving him a chance to react, something grabbed his collar and dragged him across the fractured concrete, tearing his jacket and left forearm. As the hunter catalogued the new pain, another strike slammed into the fresh injury, forcing more blood from the lacerations.
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