All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
The Conquest of Death
Igor was cleaning up the only room of his shabby little cottage on the outskirts of the ruins of the little town of Reading, England. He was the lone person living in this abandoned and hideous city. The evacuation of the village was due to the existing rumors of ghosts living nearby, who were known to roam around the town at night, scaring people to death in their beds. The only person who had remained in the surroundings of these ruins was no other than Igor, due to the fact that he declared that “He would not believe in nonsense such as ghosts.”
The town of Reading was not something that you could see every day. There were multitudinous ways of describing the town: Haunted, ruined, deadly, burning, dark, chilly, stale, wind howling, one that demons like… and that is only a couple of ways people would describe the town. The windows in this town were broken; the glass was in shards, lying on the streets, the sidewalks, and even inside the houses. Houses were crumbling down, scattering the ruins of the houses into the nearby river. There even appeared to be rumors that Lucifer had lived in this town.
But Igor did not care. He kept on living his simple life, milking his cow and tending to the chickens. He would brush the cobblestone streets, until they gleamed. He explained to himself” I must look civilized”. If any of the passing travelers would inquire him why he was not mortally terrified, his answer would be to send the person away because Igor’s attitude was not always known to be optimistic. He was a grumpy and abhorred man.
One day, while Igor was tending to his pig, he seemed to have heard a sound. It did not have the form of anything that he had heard of before. It was between a wailing and a screeching. The sound had a feeling of dark magic to it, attracting the old chap. Intrigued, the grumpy old man hobbled over to the spot he heard it. It was an abandoned medical asylum. The windows were broken and jagged, casting the image of evil. Now the sound was becoming unbearable, coming inside the man’s ear and almost bursting his eardrums. The screeching was louder here. Now the sound was becoming unbearable, coming inside the man’s ear and bursting his eardrums. Still approaching, Igor grabbed a stick lying on the ground nearby, and posed himself for combat. His clothes were now damp with sweat and his brow knotted. His eyes now resembled those of a panther in danger, wide and frightened, and prepared to strike at any moment.
Then, it stopped. The sound had stopped. And the silence was as if he entered paradise. Igor slowly dropped to the ground and fainted from terror.
After what seemed like an eternity, as he slowly revived himself, Igor realized what happened. He had heard a “thing”! Something that was not human. He hurried over to his house, gathered his old fashioned hunting rifle, and set off towards the abandoned mental hospital. He was determined to kill “it” before “the thing” terrorized him to death.
Approaching the hospital was not an easy task. Igor had to creep up to the building and try to make as little noise as possible. He walked through the rooms of the medical asylum and explored each room. They were dark and had a fatal look to them. “This place gives me the creeps,” thought Igor while exploring the rest of the hospital. “Maybe the thing has gone?” inquired Igor to himself. But alas, that could not be possible. As he walked into an unusually dark and large room, the door behind him slammed shut. Alarmed, Igor turned around to see who his enemy was. But he could not due to the fact that everywhere he turned; it was pitch black, without the faintest idea of where the door is. “This thing is going to kill me!?” he thought to himself. Terrified, Igor fainted in dread.
When Igor awoke, he observed that there were noises in the darkest corner of the room. Believing that it was the person who had locked him in, he approached the source of the noise. The rustling made by “it” in the corner, as well as the scratching noises, were petrifying. But as Igor was about to reach out and hit the creature, he was surprised and alarmed to discover that he had found only a lone rat rummaging around the room and trying to find a way out, just as he. For this reason of peace and quiet, while he thought that he was in danger, Igor drifted into a semi-sleep.
Igor was jolted awake by a voice in his head. It was an eerie, wailing cry. “It must be from the same source as the one I heard earlier.” thought Igor.
“Hello Igor,” said The Voice.
“Who are you?” asked Igor.
“I am a Lone Ranger of the dead” answered The Voice.
“So you are supernatural?” queried Igor.
“Yes” replied the Lone Ranger.
“You will kill me, right?” demanded Igor.
“Yes, I must” It replied “But sleep now, little human being.”
Igor, since he had nothing else to do, did as he was advised to by the Lone Ranger and drifted into a deep sleep.
As he was sleeping, Igor remembered something. It was a déjÃ vu. He had already been here, in this room! There had been a voice talking to him. It had told him that if he wanted to escape from this situation, he had to perform a ritual. What he had to do was “close” his mind for a long period of time. That meant that he had to only think of one thought, for example, his goat. If he did, then the creature would explode. But if the creature found out that Igor was performing the ritual, then he would murder him in the spot!
When Igor woke up, he started blocking his mind from any intruders, Igor concentrated on one thing. Supernatural creatures do not exist. Concentrating on that thought, Igor lasted hours without even slipping his mind into unconsciousness, though it was a tempting feeling because blocking your mind from someone caused a lot of pain and effort.
Just as Igor hurriedly was finishing the rite, he felt a stabbing pain in his own neck. Embedded in his neck was a small dart, with a poisonous tip. With a feeling of horror, Igor pulled out the dart from his body. He already felt his strength’s leaving him! He felt his thoughts escaping from his mind. And in his lasts effort, before his soul left his body, he whispered one word: “Ghouls!” Then Igor dropped dead to the floor.
The ghoul, also known as the Lone Ranger, floated through the wall and into the room where the human being had died. It was a disgusting sight. There lay the human, deathly pale, dead because Lucifer had commanded him to do it. After terrifying the humans of the little town of Reading, he would have to go out and destroy the whole world! This had only been one village and he was already feeling pain in killing so many naÃ¯ve little human beings. And already, after a little lonely town, the Lone Ranger did not feel to hurt another person’s soul. And here he had to kill yet another, then another one!
The Lone Ranger sighed with wretchedness. He had used a common ghoul procedure to kill that human. First summoned the human being by the wail, then had imprisoned and murdered him. Why did he have to do this? Why could he not lead a normal life, like every other ghoul in the underground? Why was he given the assignment of having mankind become extinct? Could he not of been so eager to show to his family that he was brave, not a sore loser? If he had, then he would be sitting in his house, enjoying a nice meal, and talking with the other ghouls from the ghoulish community.
On that last note, the ghoul, differenced from a ghost for having a mean, evil, and deadly spirit, floated into the night to lead the mortal attack against mankind.