Rotting Preacher

Reads: 182  | Likes: 1  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 1

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
No real description here. I wrote this at like 4AM and it's based on images that popped into my head while listening to this song and reading the English lyrics: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cDhfZpFGlg4

Yep. Just for fun.

Submitted: November 22, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 22, 2018

A A A

A A A


The sky is permanently blood-red, clouds swirling out of control throughout the entire day. The nights are cold, violent and loud. Rats around every corner, so big that they don’t fear anyone or anything. They bite. City streets are almost entirely empty for the most part, only filling up for the congregation of peculiar followers. These brainwashed masses follow every step of their leader: The Rotting Preacher.

At the town hall, they gather and worship their rotting leader. Every night they sacrifice strangers kidnapped from out in the streets, who are mostly survivors after the world’s end. Screaming, they fight and kick, until their voice is no more, and their breath is gone. A miasma of red smoke covers the streets at night, and it usually signifies these religious murderers are close.

But who is he, or rather, what is he? The preacher is mostly a mystery. He appeared after the end of the world, spreading teachings of a world that needs to rot away to be reborn. His face is only partially covered in skin, but remains mostly skeletal in shape. He has no eyes or lips, making it even stranger as to how he relays words. The black and red robes are symbolic of a plague that is emitted from the miasma, and the miasma itself is produced by his rotting body somehow. The more followers he has, the more they rot away, and the more power he gains to produce more death and disease. Eventually, the dedicated followers also become rotting skeletal things, their rotting and falling flesh being acidic in nature, capable of damaging any sane person that dares to touch it.

“Everyone was so worried about the world”, the preacher repeats over and over, and the followers do the same. Every single night before and after they sacrifice an innocent person, they repeat this line over and over. The red poison shoots their mantra directly into the brain of those unfortunate enough to inhale it in large quantities.

It only spreads even further because of the rats that have grown resistant to it. The first symptoms are typically partial blindness, which eventually becomes worse as time goes on if one remains too long within the red cloud of death. Then, the rotting of the skin begins. Unlike most infections and other skin diseases, this one quite literally begins to melt the skin away, turning it into a deadly acid. The process is not painful to the afflicted, and the brain begins to feel good by following the words of the preacher, effectively succumbing to the mantra and turning into something else. The city has glowing symbols all around, but what they mean or what they do is known only to those belonging to the rotted ones. It is nothing short of eerie, perhaps even terrifying, to visit such a place of pestilence and death.

And while the world keeps rotting away, and the innocent try to survive, this plague slowly grows in power, ready to spread even further into the ended world. There are cornered rats all around. They bite.


© Copyright 2020 Dave Davidson. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Comments

More Horror Short Stories