All Chapters of The Forgotten God: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Despite having people think otherwise, life for Cherie Reynolds had been a scenic walk in the park with seldom a pit to catch her costly heels.To hear her speak one would think life had nothing to offer but rancid lemons and it was an excuse she used when airing the frequent torrents of complaints whether in person or over the phone. That morning had gone from bad to worse. From waking to find she had been sent the wrong artisan loaf, to her coffee being too bitter and now this. Black insects gnawing at the door, blood staining the carpets from their many feet.For once her mind was not on her décor although at the back of her mind she was concerned still about her new shoes. It was strange, how inching out of the second storey window and seeing the congealing slurry below, how priorities changed. Wisps of blonde hair clung to her frantic face, damp from tears she hadn't realised she'd shed as her h

Cherie slowed as Kyle approached the run-down building, he called home, her eyes looking over the peeling sills and grubby frontage. It reminded her of a seedy half-way house, a haven for thieves and other ill-bred occupants. The carpet on the stairs was tacky underfoot and it was impossible to tell what colour it had been, clearly the fibres had not been cleaned since it was laid down, maybe even before, she assumed the sickly shaded matting had been second hand to begin with.She dared not even touch the breaking handrail, Lord knew what germs and filth bred on it. "How can you live like this?" She asked with genuine intrigue as she stumbled in the gloom. "No offence but I'm not surprised the scarabs didn't touch here." The smell of cannabis reached her nose as she turned the bend for the final steps, leaking from the room opposite and home to a former student. Kyle never believed he had ever been at college; th

Pain throbbed through Cherie's skull, reverberating down her neck and into her upper spine. The blow had been hard and blood coagulated on the back of her head.Her vision was skewed. The world around her was hazy and rocking as if she was a baby in its arms but it was not comforting, instead it was terrifying. Trying to move her arms and legs she found them bound, the wire tight and wickedly sharp. Struggling too much meant it would pierce her flesh with the ease of cutting through butter. Already it was digging in menacingly and creating scarlet ditches. The room was dark, the blinds concealing the outside world, and a smell of burning wax highlighted the air. The only light was coming from behind her, a warm glow from three candles stood on the cabinet. In the centre sat the strange statue, seeming more sinister as the glow highlighted the vacant eyes and illuminated the malign grin on its apish face.&n

Am Heh barely looked up when he heard the knock, continuing to read over the scroll with even less interest. It was the pause before entry that caused him to lower the papyrus, his dark eyes observing the meek entrance of the young man. The face was not one he recognised but, unlike the others, the aura emanating from the mortal was calmer, perhaps nerves. He gestured to the table nearby, half judging each movement the new slave made. "Put it there," he instructed placidly, unable to look back to the papers he was reading, the mortal having piqued his curiosity. "And wait for a moment, there may be other things I need you to do..." Ishaq opened his mouth to reply, snapping it shut quickly as he remembered his instructions. He gave an awkward bow instead, faltering under the weight of the jug again before making his way over and relieving himself of the burden. Automatically he rolled his shoulders, cramped from tens

As Isaac continued to dream, the world below continued to move. The shadow of Am Heh's anger was spreading further, his crow had given him a wide range of ideas and options. The ground shook, shattering any windows that still remained and cracks splintered weaker buildings, opening the earth beneath them. The lower storeys subsided, sinking dangerously and leaving the structures weak; impelling people to face the outside. The cemetery earth opened, and the scent of death and decay flowed freely. The groan of the tombs as they were forced apart resembling the cries and moans of those beneath them. It would be easy for any nearby to think that, as the newly deceased were exposed to the world, jaws slack and gaping in silent screams. A bolt of crimson lightening tore the sky, shredding the clouds and scattering fiery pebbles down below. Cowering in the shade of the skip a hapless vagrant moved as the co