Aw yeah. . . WIPpet Wednesday is here!

*Toots the horn on the 'Little Engine That Could'*

Welcome aboard WIPpet Wednesday, folks!  Here is my second time joining in with the rest of some wonderful authors in sharing my Work In Progress.  Anyone can participate (click on the link to get yourself enrolled), and you get to see a great many tantelizing snippets of imagination-at-work out there.  Thanks to My Random Muse for hosting!

Now, today's date is June 12, 2013.  I will take day twelve from the month and give you 12 paragraphs.  Last WIPpet Wednesday I gave you a small teaser about the massacre at Harper's Grove Annual fair (not to be confused with the annual massacre of Harper's Grove Fair *wink*).  Well, that seemed to have whet quite a few appetites for details, so I am giving you the following 12 paragraphs immediately following that one short three liner from page two of the opening chapter that I 'tantelized' you with. 

To clarify, the massacre of Harper's Grove is a past event.  Terry, one of my main characters, is reflecting back on this story he's heard countless times.  He did not bear witness to the gruesome spectacle.  Akira's speech begins in the first paragraph:


“Kneel, and submit to my will!  Pledge your loyalty to me this day, and your lives will be spared.  You will know work and sweat and labor, but you will also know the freedom from frivolous argument and unnecessary warfare!  Follow me, and take pride in building a new nation that will not fall apart!” Her honey coated voice, enhanced by some sort of magic, rang through the air so all could hear.  Blank, confused stares turned into defiant expressions.  No alien was going to waltz in and declare herself ruler.    

Steve Cromwell, an older gentleman who had the reputation in town for being a heckler, shouted out, “You’re crazy!”

Almond-shaped eyes fixed their stare on him.  Akira said nothing.  Slowly, her lips pulled up in a feral smile that revealed fanged teeth while a growl rose from the back of her throat.  There was a flash, and a long bronze staff instantaneously appeared in her hands.  A half crescent moon sat on the top, hundreds of tiny emerald gems inlaid into the metallic surface.  The gems glittered dangerously as the staff pointed at Steve.  Brilliant green light shot out from the crescent moon center and hit him square in the chest.

The older man was blown backward through the crowd, the force of the blast knocking citizens down as his body carved a path.   He landed roughly on the ground, the crack of his skull echoing loudly as it smacked against the earth.  Blank eyes stared up at nothing, the jaw slanted and jutting out at an unnatural angle.  

Steve was the first casualty.

A terrible moment of silence passed, then Suzanne, Steve’s wife—her name also etched on the memorial wall—filled the air with the shrill keen of a widow’s despair.

Akira’s minions stepped out at that point, scores of them surrounding and trapping the crowd where they stood.  They were skinny, lanky gray creatures with oversized arms and hands, hard wrinkled skin similar to a rhino and just as tough. They had bald heads and melted faces with red beady eyes.

Suzanne’s cries were joined by terrified shrieks from several others, ripping the air with fear and disbelief.  Citizens scattered here and there, only to wind up face to face with one of the melted gray-faced minions, unable to escape.  Large, ape-like hands rose into the air, and when they struck down to the earth, human bone crushed and splintered. 

Stepping out next was a beast of mythical legend: the Minotaur—he was a fearsome creature with a black bull head and two great pointed horns that curved outward and were sharp as spears.  His rippling torso resembled something akin to a body builder on massive amounts of steroids, with thick stalky legs and cloven feet.  Clad in bright golden armor from the waist up and a helmet around his horned head, it wasn’t a surprise he went by the name of Goldore.  Those eyes glittered black coals of putrid and hate, targeting any human as the enemy.  Wielding his great golden sword high up in the air, devastation struck wherever it landed. 

So much bloodshed.   So much loss.

Scores upon scores of people died.  Screams echoed for miles as people scrambled to escape from a trap that snaked them in the further they tried to run.  Too many minions outflanked the citizens, holding them hostage while death claimed them in grotesque fashion.

Few found miraculous escape.  Very few, and not nearly enough.

****

There you have it!  I welcome comments and positive criticism.