This is intended to go with the "Sword of Islam" story's series. I've watched a lot of terror/horror movies lately, so I'm in the mood. I'll finish this one Wednesday. If you don't like campy campfire tales, don't read this.

October 30th, 1765, during the British crackdown in the Thirteen Colonies...

"Our groupe, confifting of fifteen soldiers of the Crowne, journeyed into His Majesty's colony of North Carolina and were infructed to finde quartering for ourfelves. Off the coaft, our boat, the Anne, far too small to withftand the squall we were in at the moment, did wreck upone the beeches of a small isle off Roanoke Island. Providence saved our lives, we thought, and we started a fire on the beech."

-Journal of Corporal George Wyndham Godson

Corporal Godson and the other fourteen men camped out for the night on the beach, deciding they could wait till morning to find help. The redcoats gathered their belongings from the Anne, including barrels of dry powder, swords, salt pork, and other essentials. Above all, they brought their tattered Union Jack and planted it near their campfire.

In the morning, Godson hollered and woke up the men at 6:00, when the sun was just beginning to rise.

Private Gregory rubbed his eyes and cursed as he forced himself to get up. He put on his jacket, wig, and tricorn and grabbed his gear.

Corporal Godson gruffly asked him a question: " 'Ey, Saunderson, di' yew hear something in the woods las' night, mate?"

Gregory gave a negative. "Nos, Corporal, ah didn't. I hit th' sack an' did noot wake up, ah didn't," he said in his brogue.

"All right, Gregory, guess it was nothin'. Let's move, chaps! Up and at 'em!" Godson whacked Private Williams over the head with his tricorn for being long in getting up. "Get up, yew slugar'!"

Williams, a fellow with a heavy paunch and a love of food, sat up and got ready. Within a few minutes, the camp was picked up and their packs full. They took all the powder they could carry and started off to find help or guides.

"Ah hear there be ah redskin camp som'ere abouts these parts, corporal. Ah bet they could help us get in contact with the army," explained Gregory to Godson.

"Tha' sounds good, mate. I guess we'll take a shot at it."

"Ah wanna get off this cursed place ahs soon as possible. I don't like it one bit. Eerie and queer, says ah."

"Stop that nonsense Gregory, or I'll skin yew alive, I will! Now, all of you follow me. I think I know where this camp might be, judgin' by the topography 'round here."

"I bet he doesn't know the meanin' of 'topography,'" someone snickered.

"Yew shut up, Smith! Now, this way!" Godson and his men took off at a brisk pace through the woods. As the redcoats got deeper and deeper into the forest, they kept feeling more and more lost and bewildered.

"Corporal, do yew know where we are heading?" asked Williams.

"...Of course! I do... indeed. Step lively now!"

At that, the soldiers broke into a trot. The forest was now so thick they had trouble seeing, almost like it was night. The men kept feeling a sense that something was watching them, too. At last, after a good half-hour, Godson called them to a halt. "All right, get a drink, chaps. This stream looks clean." Duffy and Williams, who had lost their canteens in the wreck of the Anne started lapping up the water like thirsty dogs. The others sat down and rested and drank from their canteens. Godson was about to take a gulp when he looked at the reflective surface of the water. Behind him was a short pudgy man in a black suit. In the blink of an eye, he drew his sword, whirled around, and hacked at the man's legs. The man simply leaped up, dodging it casually. Godson grabbed the man's arm, spun him around, and held his rapier at the stranger's neck. The other soldiers grabbed their rifles and looked for more. There were none. Godson shook the man. "Yew're lucky I didn' jus' run yew through, blighter! Never surprise one of the King's men from behind! Who are yew?"

The stranger had short red hair, a ruffled collar, a dark suit, and an antique sword. "Good morning, Corporal. I come to tell you something," he said in a crisp, clear voice.

"What, yew bleedin' son of a biscuit eater?" Godson's patience ran thin.

"The time has come. The annual sacrifice must be made. You must offer the Beast of the Island one of your men. If you do not, all of you shall die. Every ten years, it comes to the Cavern to consume one of the island inhabitants the others have sacrificed. Finally, last year, the last of the natives died or moved. None of the citizens of Roanoke Island Proper come here. This is why. You must sacrifice one to live."

"Well, mate, I suppose that puts yew in a sowry position, don't it? Now, I have half a mind to kill yew right now, you heathen... whate'er yew are! In fact, yew threatened His Majesty's men. I'm going to tie yew to a tree. I'll fix it just so you can eventually wriggle out, but it'll teach yew a lesson."

"Mark my words! One of you must be sacrificed!"

"Oh, shut up."

They tied him to a nearby tree and continued on, Godson convinced of the man's insanity. The other troops, though, were shaking in their boots.

"One o' us has t' be sahcrificed to some pagan monster, eh? Ah don't put no stock in it!" exclaimed Gregory.

"Good for yew, Greg! That's the stuff, ol' bean!" Godson slapped him on the back.

As the soldiers continued, they started to find what appeared to be stone walls. Or, at least, the ruins of stone walls. Next, they suddenly stumbled over a sinister looking carving on a boulder. It showed disemboweled humans that looked like Indian representations of white settlers being eaten by a crudely-drawn monster of some sorts. The soldiers started to worry. They kept finding more and more structures overgrown by foliage.

This entire time, they had followed the stream. Now, they saw water gushing out of a cave. Godson looked around. "I say, is that a woman?!" inquired Private Duffy excitedly. "It is! Huzzah!" He frantically jumped in the stream and tried to reach the cavern.

"'E's gone daft!" shouted Godson. "Anyone else see anything?"

Most of them said no. But one, Williams, said he saw a table of food. He jumped in the water likewise.

Then Godson noticed that Duffy and Williams had drank their entire canteens. "Wait! Don't go in there! The water's poison!"

Too late.

Duffy and Williams, both seeing what they most desired, food and women, rushed into the cave. Shortly, their blood-curdling screams rang out. "Oh God help me! Ah! Help me!" More screaming. More begging for God to help them while their comrades went pale outside.

Godson stepped in front of everybody. "Do not go in there!" he ordered, readying his musket with shaky hands. "All o' yew, check your muskets!" Once they had done so, Godson had them line up behind him. "All right, for England and for King George, charge!" Upon that order, they rushed the cave. Muskets went off. The only thing visible were the gored remains of their two dead comrades.

Wha' did this?!" cried Gregory, staring at the decapitated head of Williams. He took his eyes off the carnage.

Godson screamed and cussed as loud as possible. He would make sure whoever, or whatever, did it, paid. Godson then noticed a pale, wide-eyed private named Englund staring at the ceiling of the cave, not moving a muscle. When Godson looked up to see what it was, a huge furry creature resembling a man came down and instantly killed Englund. It then turned and brutally jumped on and crushed Private Smith. Screaming at the top of their lungs, the soldiers fled out the cave like men possessed. They never moved this quickly, even in battle.

The creature followed them and leaped up into the trees. It jumped from one limb to another, so agile that its massive weight did not break even weak, small branches. The men shouted, cried, and cursed as they attempted to escape. Williams, Duffy, Englund, and Smith had already been killed, and they had no desire to follow them to that early, bloody, grave. So, now with only ten men under his command, Godson tried to find refuge. The creature followed them, made a jump from one side of the stream to another by swinging on a vine, and grabbed up Private Jenkins.

That made nine left.

To be continued...

Whoa. If you made this into a film ever. Yea-esh!

Son of a biscuit eater? ***snort***

Good story!

Thanks! I picture it like a film in my head 'cause I've seen so many horror/creature movies.



Lol, I heard a pirate say that once.

Thanks, SM!

Sorry I haven't put up the final installment yet! I've been busy. BTW, I plan on making a timeline showing how the war against the Vampires started with the "Mark of Cain." It'll be in good fun and occasionally deliberately campy, and it will show how world history is actually a cover-up for the war, with various explanations for things. For instance: Jonathan Edwards, the 1700's preacher, is actually a member of the Circuit Riders, an elite group of Protestant vampire hunters. Also: Rasputin, a Russian Imperial vampire, is the cause for the Bolshevik Revolution. There will be some wacky Vampire corps like the KGB that hunts them down in Siberia. Heinrich Himmler was actually a vampire and so were many of the Nazis, which will lead to crazy camp scenarios. Plus tons of other stuff!

Do these things include Stupid Jetpack Hitler or the Ghostapo ?

Haha, Stupid Jetpack Hitler is hilarious. You'd like a History Channel show I watched once about the "Wunderwaffen."

I could definitely see the Spear of Destiny playing into this. Yeah, I'm big on the Spear of Destiny myth; look it up for more, especially how Hitler committed suicide just hours after he said he lost it. Perhaps a detachment of Nazi vampires were dispatched to find it, and during the Cold war, they're still looking. Could be more like a thriller instead of horror, which could be interesting...

Are you gonna do more?

Jawohl. I'm not gonna have much to do, tomorrow, so probably then. I already have the ending in my head.

Awesome. Looking forward to it!

CONCLUSION:

Godson and his five remaining men scrambled inside the abandoned log cabin. It was extremely old and filthy, but it seemed safe, or at least the closest thing to it.

Four more of Godson's men had died from the beast over the past day. They had run for hours and hours. Godson bolted the door and slumped down on the floor, laughing hysterically. The other four, Gregory, Darby, Whitefield, and Lewis did likewise. Godson pulled his body off the floor. It seemed as if he could barely control it, he was so exhausted. He slogged over to the windows to make sure they were boarded. They were. He wiped the sweat off his brow and pulled a piece of jerky out of his pouch. Chewing on it like a starving animal, he gave orders to the others. "Gregory, load all the muskets an' guns an' wha' 'ave yew. Lewis, search around the cabin and see if you c'n fin' anythin'. Darby, you see if you can reinforce these windows. Whitefield, you sharpen the blades. Well, get goin', Whitefield! We don't have all day!"

Whitefield just stared at him. Suddenly he whipped out his pistol. "Look, Godson, one o' of us has to be sacrificed! That's the way it's got to be. And it sure as the King lives ain't goin' to be me, mate! So, Godson, we're goin' to take a little stroll out that door and I'm gonna leave you out there. C'mon."

Click.

Boom.

Whitefield fell over dead. Gregory had shot him in the back.

Godson spat on him. "Fool! Yew shoulda known Gregory would help me, you monkey! Drag the dastard's body out." Two of the others grabbed the body and unbolted the door. They chucked him out and bolted it back.

Godson slapped his tricorne on his leg to get the dirt and leaves off it. "All right, rest o' yew, as yew were."

The soldiers hunkered down after following orders and started a fire in the old chimney.

"What'll we do, now, Godson?" asked Darby. "We can't jus' stay in here forever."

"I know that! I'm thinkin'! I'm thinkin'!"

Suddenly, a loud pounding came at the door.

"What the- Chaps! Guns! Now!" Godson ordered. He slowly, carefully, silently, crept over to the door and looked out the peep-hole. "It's... a girl? Get ready, men, I'm opening the door." Everyone held their breath as Godson unbolted the rickety wooden door and creaked it open. A girl immediately stumbled inside and hit the floor.

"Who are you?" asked Darby, picking her up by the arm.

"I'm Black Crow. My people used to live here," she replied. She had typical clothing, feather in her hair, deerskin skirt, scavenged cotton jerkin, and was pretty. The last thing interested Godson the most.

"Welcome, aboard ma'am! I presume you're fleeing from it, too, righ'? How'd you get here?"

She sat down on a chair before responding. "I... My people left me by accident. I don't know what to do. I survived until its feeding time started." She accepted a small bowl of jerky stew Darby handed her and continued. "I was educated by whites. That's why we're having this conversation and why I'm not half-naked, savage, and killing you."

Godson nodded, "Yeah... Tha's very... fortunate."

She grinned. "I have not been chased today, probably because it was chasing you."

"How very nice for you. Tell me, have you seen this old fuddy-duddy chap who prances round screaming about sacrifice?" inquired Godson.

She shook her head. "No! I thought I was the only person left. I thought my people left me as a sacrifice. If there's someone else, maybe he'll get eaten instead. Oh, wait, it has to be a willing sacrifice, otherwise it'll just keep killing. In other words, I was left willingly by them. I'm the only one, I suppose."

Godson could tell what the others were thinking. "No! We're not gonna shove 'er out there, blokes!"

"Corporal!" exclaimed Darby in a false tone of shock, "I would never-"

"Yeah, yeah, sit down!" Godson commanded. "Sorry, Black Crow, go on."

She glared at them. "Uh, yes, uh, as I was saying, what happens every time is that everyone either kills each other off or is eaten. The last person to die is considered a sacrifice by it. It's almost like a moral test; the one who kills everyone off to save himself is sacrificed. If he had volunteered, everyone is saved."

"That's it!" screamed Darby, aiming his musket at them. "We're goin' to willingly sacrifice you, Godson! You were the one who got us lost on this godforsaken islan' to begin with! Now it's time for you to pay!"

Godson grabbed Black Crow and whipped out his pistol. "Gregory! Lewis! Stop him!" he shouted frantically, pistol hand shaking wildly as Darby aimed for Black Crow's head.

Instead, they flanked Darby, even Gregory, and also aimed at Godson and Black Crow. Black crow snatched a nearby musket and aimed back. The five people just stood there, waiting for someone to make a move. Finally, Godson slammed on the table in between them, making it kick up and hit Gregory in the jaw, Black Crow then fired, killing Lewis, and Godson's pistol ball hit Darby directly in the left eye. They were safe. Or so they thought for a brief moment.

Godson threw his pistol on the ground, sickened. "So this, this is wha' happened to the Roanoke Colony, eh? If that beast couldn't see our little chimney smoke, he'll have heard our shots. We're doomed. I dare not open the door and try to get us to safety. And I'm going to sacrifice you. Good-bye. King George, and Old England forever!" He grabbed another pistol and went over to the door. She watched in horror as he refused to come back. "You'll be saved now, Black Crow. My names Corporal George Wyndham Godson. Notify the Royal Army of what happened here when you escape. See you in the next life."

Godson walked out, slammed the door, and stood in the open field outside. "Come get me! Yew hear me?! Yew son of a biscuit eater, come get me! C'mon! C'mon! What? To scared to take on Corporal Godson, eh? Bring it on, mate!" He heard approaching footsteps and whirled around. There it was. Big, nasty, with red eyes and devilish teeth. A picture of horror, blood dripping off its quivering lower lip. It grinned. Godson fired. It did no damage. The creature grabbed him and ripped him apart. Letting out a vicious howl, it announced to the cabin that the job was done.

Black Crow, several hours later, opened the door. Already depressed, she tried to avoid looking at the blood and pieces of uniform scattered about. She slowly walked down the small slope and went out to the beach. She sat in a state of shock until, suddenly, as if by magic, a vessel appeared on the horizon. It was British. She quickly lit a fire and screamed and shouted. Finally it saw her and was rapidly making toward the island. Right as the sailors deployed a rowboat to go ashore, she heard something behind her. She turned her head with dread. She could feel breath on the bare skin of her right arm.

"Oh, scre-"

*************

The British sailors hit the beach. They tied their rowboat to a nearby stump and looked around, trying to find the woman who had made the fire.

"Well, Geoffrey, do you see anyone?" asked the marine corporal named Martin Davis.

Geoffrey, a sailor, hollered back, "No, corporal, I don't! I wonder who the devil started this!"

Right as they were about to hit the trail to go inland, a short, pudgy man came out of the forest, using a long splinter as a toothpick to clean some sort of meat out of his teeth. "Good to see you fellows! I declare, I thought no one would ever find me!"

"You look like you're doing okay, judging by your paunch and that meat you're pickin' out of yer teeth," said the bemused corporal.

"Ah, yes, you have no idea how good the eating is here," the fat man said in an equally light-hearted tone of voice. I also think I found the lost treasury of Roanoke Colony. If you'd follow me, I can lead you to it."

"Yessir!" exclaimed the enthusiastic Davis. "Oi, chaps, looks like we're gonna get rich off o' this! C'mon, men, follow him."

The strange heavy-set man started to lead them down the path. "By the way, I know of this wondrous creek near here."

Davis licked his lips thirstily, "Good tastin', eh?"

"Oh, you have no idea."