An action by the cloaked man drew her attention. He added earth to the violated, mutilated corpses.
Zoey thought. That must be the secret ingredient, the morbid final touch.
She received an answer. The cloaked man took powder from one of his belt pouches and threw it up in the air. He waved his hands in the air and uttered some strange words.
Zoey thought. Okay, fine, I was wrong. That powder is his last ingredient. That means he’s casting a spell over his new undead creations. … Now, why do I know that? It is somehow familiar, yet it is not. … Oh, never mind, this will make me have a brain fart.
She snickered at the horror being subjected. Nervous inappropriate humor fueled her where bravery should. She spied at the gruesome scene some more.
Zoey thought. I sense therapy in the future. Lots of it.
The cloaked man weaved his hands, and energy blazed forth. Dark green bolts of lightning arced and zapped each of the Frankenstein-like dolls.
The cloaked man raised his hands. "Rise, my golems. Rise. Your master is calling you. It is time to exact my revenge."
The newly created zombies crackled from the residual magic and spasmed to life. Zoey shuddered and hugged herself. The graveyard monsters groaned and stood upright.
The earthen golems with their fiery emerald eyes cried out in unison, “We live. Command me, Lord.”
Loud applause shocked her out of the continuing premonition. Zoey's breathing raced, and she found herself slumped up against a wall. She rose slowly, still using the wall for support. She shook a little bit. Zoey hugged herself for some small comfort.
Zoey thought. What the hairy heck? ... What is happening to me?
About Michael S Lopez