Chthonic Is A Fun Word

I apologize for the lack of updates recently, as I've been a little busy. I have kept writing, though, and so I'll have plenty of good posts for you all this week. Hopefully one tonight as well. As for right now, I've got a story opening that I wrote.

So remember how I wrote about story openings a few days ago, and how I hate when they start right in the action?

Well, yeah, see, I kind of did that here. I'm still not saying that it's a good idea, I'm just hoping that I might have done it right.

(Which is unlikely.)

Chapter One

I heard a creak.

            My fingers closed tightly around the cold metal and I laid there silently till I heard another scuffle in the corner, indicating the direction. I rolled off the mattress, dropped to one knee, and opened fire. Three bullets, one after the other.

            I heard two embed themselves in the wall, and the third hit flesh. I heard a bone crack and a sharp shriek before I was tackled over onto the floor by a hundred pounds of fiendish, unhallowed flesh. The thing slashed me across the face with one clawed hand, and I heard the movement of its other arm as it drew back for a second attack. I caught it’s wrist at the apex of its motion, and flung the body off of me. I staggered up as two men with guns and rudimentary armor shot the lock on the door and burst in. Before I was halfway standing I was firing. A total of three more bullets went into the daemonic six-appendaged creature on the floor before it gave an exasperated scream and ceased its writhing.

            I turned to the top drawer of a small dresser next to my bed. I fumbled through the contents and pulled out a rag. My hand shook as I dabbed the blood off my face and turned to the men at the door.

            “Good evening, gentleman,” I said, forcing myself to stand up straight.

            “Instance clear,” murmured one of the men into a voice receiver at the front of his helmet. “We’ll give you two hundred thirty for it,” he said to be, motioning with his gun at the corpse.

            “Not for sale,” I replied, leaning against the wall with the rag to my head.

            “No? Are you refusing our offer?”

            “Yes.”

            “Well then, we’ll just ta-“

            “No. This one’s mine,” I interjected, pointing my gun at the speaker’s head.

            The man laughed. “And what if I just have you shot?” His partner raised his gun at me.

            I glanced warily back and forth between the pair. “Then you lose your credibility as a business. I have a microchip wired into my optic nerves that automatically sends a picture of my death scene to at least a dozen different people.”

            “So what if we shoot you in your eye?”

            “I’d like to see you hit both of them at the same time.”

            The man considered this for a moment. He looked me up and down for a moment, and noticed how pale my face was and how thin my hair was. He must have realized I was truly desperate, because he relented.

            “Alright. You have a good night sir.”

            He gave an exaggerated bow and walked out, not bothering to look back to see if my gun was still point at him. It was. The other man followed him out and closed the door. I tried locking it behind him, but the lock was completely broken by their entrance; so was the wooden plank that had barred the entrance. Sighing, I turned around, looking around for where the thing had entered. My eyes immediately locked onto a small hole in the roof. I went over to a small closet, threw it open, and selected two wooden planks from inside. One I nailed into the ceiling, covering the hole, and the other I used to bar the door. I looked upon my temporary fixes with dissatisfaction. Oh well, it would be just a few more weeks till I could buy a safer house. It would have been tomorrow if I had sold tonight, but I needed the thing lying dead on my floor.

            I then turned to the chthonic humanoid on the ground. I knelt down next to it and pressed my hands to its chest, then drew them back slowly. A ghostly, blue-white substance followed my hands out. I cupped my hands, and it pooled in them like water. I raised it too my lips, and drank all of it up greedily. Immediately, I felt invigorated. My thoughts cleared, the pain of my cuts started to fade, fresh life coursed through my veins, and, without looking, I knew my face wouldn’t look quite as pale for a while.

            Finally, I took the time to study my would-be hunter. Its skin was human appearance, but so pale as to be halfway between blue and white. Its face had no eyes or hair, only a flat nose and pair of ears and a gaping circular mouth with shark-like teeth. Two arms adapted for running on all fours were stuck on its shoulders, and two legs were set at its hips. Both the hands and feet had long fingers resembling claws; one of the hands had my own blood on it. Lastly, two vicious scythed appendages sprouted from its back. 

            I looked at that thing in contempt and disgust. How disturbing that it had once been human.