*A brief note that this is one of my older essays that was done for school. Recent stuff will appear eventually, but I figure I should chew through my extensive backlog.
*Wordcount: 426 words.
Someone had left the door open… Which was strange in the Alberto house-hold, where doors are to be kept closed at all times unless absolutely necessary. Perhaps someone had rushed through? Or maybe it was an act of rebellion against the strict, and often strange, master of the house? Most likely it had to do with the puddle of blood, spreading to where the door would have been, had it been closed.
The source of the blood was an unfortunate maid, the white on her uniform speckled with crimson flowers. Her throat appeared cut, but, on closer inspection, it looked to be torn out quite brutally. Her blood was already soaking into the hardwood floor. ‘A shame,’ thought Richmond Alberto, the lord and master of the house. ‘That floor was my favourite.’
He was already on the hunt, a long and hefty sword in his hand. His greying hair fell over greying eyes, and his face was scarred but friendly. He bore all the marks of a daemon hunter, albeit an old one (which was rare in such a profession), which was convenient, considering the daemon loose in his house. A particularly impolite one – that section of the floor would have to be replaced. Richmond stomped down the hallway towards the screams.
The daemon looked like a gecko, but the size of a man and outfitted with deadly claws and dagger-like teeth, topping it all off with a tail that sliced through most things with ease. It was constantly changing colours, from black to pink; from green to red, not very threatening but very confusing. Although anything pink could be scary with enough claws. The beast was currently chewing its way through a butler’s chest, beheading the occasional panicked servant with its tail. It stopped when a huge sword flew past its head, embedding into the far wall. It spun to face this new opponent, tail raised.
Richmond had slipped on his worn (and stained) brass knuckles, and was cracking many different and obscure joints while watching the creature. It lunged at him, claws at the ready and hissing some daemonic obscenities. Richmond brought his fist up, hitting it right on the jaw. There was a loud “Crack!” and the daemon flew back, minus a few teeth. Its broken jaw hung grotesquely, swaying back and forth with each growl.
He ran at the daemon, a dagger in hand, and jumped onto its back. It tried, and failed, to dislodge him. He brought the dagger up, cried “I really liked that floor!” and brought the dagger down.