The Lost Gods(#WATTYS 2017)

Chapter 1

Good morning or afternoon guys, welcome to the first installment of my first book series, THE LOST GODS. The name of this book is called Beginning, the next shall be called Ascension and the third or maybe the last will be called End. The cover picture is not mine. I only edited it and put the name.

All rights reserved.

Copyright 2017. By David Japhet AKA BlackInferi or D'art.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any format or by any means,electronic or mechanical, including photo copying,recording without the written permission of the publisher.

Book one of:

The Lost Gods

By David Japeth

Chapter one◆◇◆The man with scars

I listened quietly as my boots crunched the leaves
underneath my feet. I aimed and cocked the gun. The deer looked at me with black beady eyes and I froze knowing that if I pulled that trigger I was the last thing the deer would see. Carefully,  I pulled back the trigger whimpering softly ,so my uncle Bernard wouldn't  hear me. I shot at the animal. It tried to run but  I noticed I had shot it in the lower abdomen.  It would be loosing a lot of blood very quickly.

I ran forward gripping the shotgun tightly in my hands. I put my hand upon the animal. I could hear it's heaving breath. It's chest rising and falling it's breath going in and out In. Out. In. Out. If my uncle came and noticed the animal was so much as wheezing, I myself would be dead. I aimed my gun at my game and looked back into those eyes.

I pulled the trigger softly and put the mouth of the gun on top of it's heart. I heard a shiver from the beast as blood dripped from the chest. I looked away and saw through my teary eyes that uncle Bernard was coming. I quickly wiped my eyes with my coat.

"First time ya ever kill something " his rough booming Texan voice ruffling deeply. He cleared his throat and spoke again.

"Carry it on your shoulders, good for nothing rag doll"

I had gotten used to Bernard calling me names. He especially liked rag doll for some reason. I stood up and dragged the animal atop my shoulders. It's was very heavy but I'd gotten used to carrying potatoes and yams from our farm so my back and shoulders were aligned perfectly, muscles relaxes and strong. I sighed as I walked in line with my uncle.

We got near our house near the farm. It was as big as the farm. The door paint was already peeling but it showed some signs of brown and yellow. The red bricks were cracked in some places and there was usually a plop of cement covering some holes.

Bernard twisted the knob before opening the latch. The door revealed a sitting room. Blue chairs and a coffee table layed in the middle of the living room. A box TV sat on top a wooden table with several compartments holding CD'S and cassettes. I walked into the house my muddy shoes staining the white tiled floor. I went to the light rosy pink kitchen and dropped my kill.

Bernard came in with a butcher knife and told me to watch. He marked the beast's neck with a chalk aiming for an artery just below the throat. He held up the knife before swiftly bringing on top the beast's neck. A loud clang echoed in the room as the bone cracked. He picked up the chopped head of the deer and threw it into the waste bin. My uncle was a rugged and wicked man. He didn't care about animal rights and was always talking about politics and governmental decisions.