Email
meSpirit of
Independence
Spirit
of Independence
About
Sample Chapter
Spirit Reviews
Spirit of Independence: Repentance
Reviews
Sardurvial Dissenting
About
Sample Chapter
Reviews
Writers Resources
Query Letter
Manuscript Format
Press Release
Screenwriting
Misc.
Links
My company, the sweep-up ground unit, was jumped in approximately one mile outside the already battered city. By foot we advanced towards our target, walking through a devastated town that had no standing structures remaining, and there were no visible signs of life anywhere.
The citizens of the small town were scattered around the wasteland, appearing like statues that were frozen in the image of death forever. Those visual impressions left me feeling paranoid, I feared that same fate sat silently, patiently awaiting me. I knew it was going to get me somehow, sometime, by someone that was born to kill me.
During our advancement, we witnessed the destruction step after step. Dead children held my gaze, reminding me of the tragedy war can bring. Some of them were completely blown apart, or had been crushed under the massive weight of falling buildings. But, the most disturbing image was one where a little boy clung on to his teddy bear cradled within his dead mothers grasp. This was a reminder of my wife and boy back home. What if it were them?
Upon reaching our objective, my commanding officer, Arthur Stierheim, ordered everyone to dig in and set up camp. My post was relieved when Captain. Stierheim requested I accompany him due south to a cluster of standing walls that hadn't been checked.
Together, quietly and quickly and always sticking to cover, we advanced to the walls. The Captain was the first to disappear behind the wall, and when he saw it was all clear of enemies, he waved me on, and I casually approached the walls. When I walked to the opposite side of the wall, Captain Stierheim was placing a silencer on a pistol he'd always carried. He raised the gun slowly, pointing it at me. I became stiff, but instinctively noted the devilish look in his eyes and ran. The cement wall beside me exploded from his ricocheting bullet and it sent small rocks into my eyes. I brushed at the dust that clouded my vision and tripped and fumbled as I tried to blindly run through the brick littered grounds. I fell forward and instinctively released my gun so I could use both of my hands to break my fall. My face thrust heavily into the bricks and dirt, and the dust rushed up my nose. I struggled to reach my gun that was just out of my reach, and I looked up to see the men from my unit in the far distance oblivious to my situation, continuing to build camp.
I desperately started crawling, clawing, trying to pull myself closer to my gun. I stretched my fingers, but the harder I struggled, the further away my weapon seemed to be. I heard him, my commanding officer, he was standing behind me, watching me as if he was sure I wasn't going to reach my weapon. It still seemed so far away when he stepped on my hand and pressed the uncaring steel into my head and forced my chin up. I looked at him.
"I guess you can call this moment fate," he said. "You will be taught and prepared to become the savior of the world!"
He was mad, I was sure of that. The horrors of war can drive even the strongest willed man beyond himself. I looked deeply into his eyes and tried to make him understand who I was.
"Arthur, it is me, Travis. Take it easy."
"It figures," he said exasperated. "I knew you'd think I had gone insane from this war. Believe me, the reasons for your death far exceed anything you could comprehend right now."
His tone was brusque and impenitent, and it was accompanied by a stare that seemed as if it were beyond me. I knew I had come to my last day, and I had accepted that. I knew what was next to come, so I tried to hold strong and fight to keep myself from looking away. I didn't want him to relish in my fear, so I defiantly looked deeper into his eyes and said, "What are you waiting for? Do it!"
He stepped away from me and pulled the trigger. I flinched as the weapon discharged the bullet that tore through the flesh and bone on the left side of my face, blowing a hole beneath my left eye. I grabbed at the paralyzing pain and hopped to my feet. I looked down and saw my bleeding body lying on the ground and I froze with fear. My commanding officer approached me, ignoring my dead body by his feet, and he plunged his fist into my chest and quickly pulled it out. My breath was forced from my lungs, and I reared back in fear. Suddenly, I was grabbed by the ankles and I was pulled downwards through the many layers of the earth's crust. I was slammed to the ground, and creatures looking like demons grabbed me, stood me up, placed spiked collars around my neck and wrists, and they chained me to the ground. The creatures were ugly little things, they were short, about three feet tall, hairless, and they had hot pink skin. They all had two fanged teeth that were long and sharp that hung over their bottom lip. They all carried three pronged pitchfork like weapons that were being used against any protesting soul.
Many souls that looked human were bound the same way I was, and that made the harsh reality of my situation become clear. I was dead, and I was in Hell!
A tremendous blow to the back of my head took away my awareness and filled my eyes with a cold blackness. Within the blackness, a high pitched scream echoed around and stirred my curiosity. I searched for the source and awoke to a demon slapping me in the face and continuing his scream until he gained my full attention. He stepped to the side, and before me, a creature that was sitting in a throne made from stone demanded silence. The tiny demons that were busy tending to their tasks on hand were halted immediately. The creature stood from the throne and paused so he could appraise me. Behind the throne, two giant cement bowls that were carved from stone held Hells' flame and fiercely spewed black soot into the hot air. The creature was tall and skinny, standing well over six feet tall. He had long stringy unkempt hair, pale cracked skin, and his clothes were mere dirty rags that draped over his bony body. He slowly approached me as everyone quietly watched on.
I figured he were the devil himself although he was missing the horns, fire red skin, spiked tail and hoof feet. I looked at the foul creature and wondered what I had done to have been sent there, to Hell. The devil, Navarro, stood nearly nose to nose with me, and I clamped my eyes tightly shut, being fearful of him. After all, when I was a younger man, I was forced into religious study, and I learned that something looking like this could be nothing other than the devil.
"Travis Winter," he said, and the whiff of his foul breath rushed up my nose and nauseated me. "You are the being that is to learn great power and will eventually bring destruction to my kingdom and dream. You are here so I can persuade you otherwise."
His tone was surprisingly pleasurable so I opened one eye lid enough so I could peak out at him. He turned away from me and whispered, "Don't run, Travis, have some trust in me."
A demon approached me and I became stiff with fear. At just a few steps away from me, the demon stopped and his pointy ears pulled tightly against his head. He looked behind himself, then all around the room. I looked to the other demons and they began to scatter in a panicked frenzy. Then, I heard what they had been hearing. Grumbling sounds, like rolling thunder, that was distant and seeming to be approaching. Navarro yelled something to his demons, but the now broadened sound drowned out his voice. Suddenly, all male angelic creatures descended into Hell and began to battle the demonic creatures. The angels had majestically beautiful wings that were covered with bright white feathers, and they flapped with authority and grace. The glowing aura that seemed to surround the angelic creatures made it easy for me to follow their every move throughout the dimly lit pit of hell.
As the room became consumed with the bloody battle of good versus evil, an angel came to me. He wrapped his soft wings around me for protection and asked, "Are you Travis Winter?"
I became consumed with a certain calm that he, the angel, was going to make everything all right. I reached forward, needing to touch him, but the chains that bound me restricted me.
"Answer me!" he said and shook me by the shoulders. "Are you Travis Winter?!"
"Yes," I answered, and the angel retracted his wings, broke the chains that bound me and handed me a small staff.
"Go!" he told me. "Go up as fast as you can. Don't look back, and never return here!"
I was hesitant in my confusion. I had so many questions I needed to ask, but I couldn't decide which one to ask first.
"Go now!" he demanded once again, but that time he followed with a shove.
A group of demons attacked the angel and in my fear I ran. As I fled, I could hear the angel's cries of pain as the demons began to tear him apart. I did as he ordered and I didn't look back. I went up as fast as I could until I hit the surface.
At that very moment, though lost and confused, I began my existence as the Spirit of Independence. I never knew what happened to the group of angels that were sent to rescue me, or the fate of the souls that remained behind, trapped in the steamy bowels of hell. With any luck they escaped during the chaos the angels created, if not, I hope they perished. I know that sounds cruel, but I know death would be much better than even one moment inside that hell.
Spirit of Independence
Spirit of Independence: Repentance
Sardurvial Dissenting
Writers -- contribute to the writers resources by emailing your articles!