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One foot in the grave

"Queen goes to jack, king goes to queen...I win. Again. " A voice echoed quietly out past the deserted streets of a wretched bus station, decrepit and devoid of any use what so ever. It had seen better days- and so had Sparkle Shadowpaw, whom quietly scooped up the cards from the dirty sidewalk, and skillfully shuffled them back into a pile. She had been sitting there for nearly two hours, staring at the silent faces of her favorite playing cards. Staring quietly into the heart of boredom that saw fit to captivate her. She couldn't remember what had spurred her to end up at the bus station, or where she'd hoped to go, but no buses had shown up in the last hour, and she was getting bored trying to wake up from this nightmare she was having.

Sparkle had never traveled to another realm before. She had heard stories from other witches that it was possible, but it was something she'd never dared attempt herself. No no, she was happy right where she was on earth. Doing silly little magic tricks, drinking herself into stupors, and going to work 5 days a week to support her expensive habits. She leaned back quietly, bracing her body with her arms and let her gaze play deftly across the dusky, empty street. Cracked and broken concrete, shattered and destroyed buildings and not a soul to be seen anywhere.

"Where the fuck am I!? Come on, someone throw me a frickin' bone here! Ahhh, What is "I'm in hell" Alex? Ding ding ding. And you'd be correct! What have we got for Sparkle?! Why it's one all expensive paid trip to eternal damnation!" The wolf barked, doing her very best game show impression. She looked around again and frowned. It certainly didn't seem like any hell she'd ever heard of.

First and foremost, It was uncomfortably warm. There was no raging inferno, or powerful typhoon of heat. It was just a sweltering boil- like those first steps into a steaming bath before the body can adjust to the temperature. And dry. It was ridiculously dry, with no signs of vegetation anywhere. A red, almost mist like haze filtered the area like a fog, and it seemed stuffy. Like there was no air. This had not been what Sparkle had been expecting. She'd always thought of Hell as a place of horrific fire and brim stone and demons dancing about with pitch forks. Like the movies and the folk lore. Instead of demons she got empty streets. Instead of a lake of fire, she had a dry heat. Instead of tortured, tormented souls, she was lonely and bored. Maybe it really WAS Hell.

"Wait a minute...this can't be Hell! Where's the "Kick-the-Hitler booth? Where's the Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Klu-Klux-Klan?! Where's the ...holy shit." Sparkle mumbled to herself as her eyes widened. Down the street, shrouded in the crimson mist and staggering in a slow, near zombie like fashion- was the obvious figure of a person. Sparkle slowly dragged herself to her feet, dusting the dark rust colored dust from her rump and jacket, and reached down to grab her cane. Holding it firmly in her fingers, she set it down with an audible 'plunk' sound and began to walk towards the lumbering silhouette.

She frowned quietly. Ever since she'd gotten older, the need to have a cane with her became more and more of a necessity. The bullet that had pierced her right thigh also penetrated and shattered her pelvis when she had been only eight, leaving her forever granted great parking spaces. Things never quite healed completely and to this day she always walked with a bit of a limp- but now there were no sharp shots of pain or horrible bouts of agony that shot through her leg. There was nothing there. It was like her body wasn't her body in some weird fashion. Now, however, was not the time to ponder odd health benefits or mysterious cures for troubling ailments. All she wanted to do was get some answers.

"Hey! Buddy!! HEY! " She called out, the wolf weaving through the red mist that flooded the cracked and beaten streets and frozen in her tracks when the...'person' came into view. It looked like a person. Walked like a person. Dressed like a person. But one look at it told anyone otherwise. It had the body of a feline. A tabby of sorts, with sharp, broken and bitten ears, and bright yellow eyes with slit pupils. But his body...it looked like it bulged in all the wrong places, like it's skin were about to burst apart any moment, and it's movements were cold and crooked. Like a crude facsimile of a person at best. The worst part was the neck, however. The neck was complete and totally bent in the wrong direction, crooked with no sense of muscle or bone.

Sparkle stood frozen, eyes wide like a deer caught in head lights. Her mouth was dry and her fingers clutched her cane furiously, and only then, did she realize her mouth was moving- words spilling out from her pretty lips...

"Not possible...not possible..." She mumbles over and over again, transfixed on the lurching creature before her. It had stopped when it heard her, and slowly turned about, and now the two stared at each other quietly. Had Sparkle turned on her heels at that point and attempted to run- she might have managed to escape. But she didn't. She was helplessly fixated on the pulsing, bulging being in front of her and the sound that emanated from it's body. Not it's mouth- but it's body...deep within it's body. High pitched and squealing, like...laughter...

With a splintering burst of blood, it's head tore itself from it's body, revealing eight long, slender spider like legs, which it used to climb down it's chest and to the ground towards the traumatized wolf. Spark remained still, watching with dinner plate eyes- but when another head crept out of it's body- this one the severed head of a dalmatain and joined it's leader, the wolf shrieked and burst into a sharp sprint. They were faster.

The first thing that slammed into Sparkle's backside felt like some sort of large bulky fist; easily enough to knock the wolf down to the dusky floor. She rolled over and shrieked again eyeing the eight or nine heads that had all climbed out of the single body and now surrounded her, hissing and sputtering, giggling and speaking in high voiced gibberish. Tears trickled from her eyes as she tried to fight them off. Lord in heaven she tried, but there were just too many of them. One of them latched onto her right arm, and another to her left. Pinning her to the ground helplessly, while a third, forth and fifth gripped her left leg, leaving her right leg to kick and squirm frantically.

"God, let me go! Get off! Get off!!" Spark snarled, eyes narrowed at the hideous creatures that gripped her. She ceased her struggles for a single split of a second when she saw the leader- the cat that had been acting as the head of the creature to start with, slowly climbing up the front of her body. Towards her face. Towards HER head. Its mouth peeled opened to reveal small, terrifying fangs. Tiny ones, but sharp looking. It was going to crew her head off...it was going to eat her alive.

"NO! LET GO!! S, SOMEBODY!! SOMEBODY HELP ME! PLEASE! OH GOD! JESUS HELP ME!!! PLEASE!!!!" Spark screamed, her eyes tearing up as the cruel spider crept closer and closer still, taking it's sweet time, wondering over her belly, her breasts, and sat there, watching her wiggle wildly, trying to pull away.

"NO! I DON'T WANT THIS! I'M SORRY! I'M SO SORRY GOD! WHY ME?! SOMEBODY HELP ME!! I DON'T WANT THIS!! LET ME GO!!!" Spark shrieked in terror, watching through bleary, tearful eyes as the cat with the eight, hairy, terrifying legs leaned down to take that first chunk out of her neck.

The spray of blood was immense, splattering wildly all over Sparkle's face, her clothes, and the blade that had cut the creature clear off of her. At first she didn't know what had happened. The wolf thought she was dead- that it had tore into her and feasted on her helpless body- but that was not the case. Instead, looking up, there was a new figure standing over her. Covered in bright silver, glimmering armor, and hacking and slashing at the horrible little monsters with a glittering, shining sword. Quite soon, all of them were but bloody splatters, staining the floor around her, and Sparkle lay, for better or for worse, intact and on the ground, panting helplessly, tears trickling down her cheeks. In front of her, stood a very handsome, very muscular lion, dressed in a fine suit of well polished armor. He sheathed his sword, and extended a gauntlet down for the wolf's assistance.

"I am Sir Roland Whitehaven of the Northlands. And I believe, M'lady, you require an escort."