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I do not know all about the Bazuls, but I have done enough research to know what fate awaited my brother and I should we dare venture outside the door of the bedroom where we hid. So I gestured quietly to George, and we remained in a reclined position beneath the bed, both of us struggling to breath in silence.
As the hands of the grandfather clock in the hallway ticked away rather loudly, the horrible grunts of the Bazul drew closer and closer. I felt something wet touch my hands, and on closer inspection, I realized that it was blood. I had a faint idea where it had come from, but this was not the time to panic.
I closed my eyes tightly, and searched my brain for a solution within the events of the past few days...
George had been quite enthusiastic about his new comic idea. Naturally, I was happy about his enthusiasm; he was my only brother, and he hadn't made much headway with his writing in the past few months. I was however, completely oblivious of the source of his new found inspiration.
We lived in a two bedroom flat, but we both slept in one, as we had converted the other bedroom to a mini library/workplace. This was where I carried out my research about ancient tribes and their mysteries, and where George occasionally wrote his literary pieces. It was in this room three days ago, that George had successfully initiated the summoning rites of Gali, the sacred warrior of the Bazuls...
He was hideous, like most Bazuls. He had a monstrous physique, a true feature of the most aggressive of the Bazuls. But what surprised me, that which truly surprised me, was the means through which he had come; through the pages of George's new draft. Something which my many months of research never told me.
It had started as an innocent mistake on my part; I had uncharacteristically left my research papers scattered on my work table, and had gone to bed. George had woken up, and decided to write through the night, as he usually did. This time however, he had stumbled upon in his words, "an awesome character for the villain" in his latest comic.
If I had known that his secret weapon was the object of my research, I would have vehemently opposed the idea. But he had kept it a secret, and had pleaded that I only request to read the final draft. And earlier today, he had finished it.
I had picked up the rough draft with a mild worry; I wanted George to be a successful writer, but I also feared he hadn't the requisite application to make it work. But after I read the first paragraph, my attention piqued, and my worry increased multiple fold; George had not only created a literary masterpiece, he had also recreated a monster that had previously been confined within the pages of ancient scrolls...
"Among the ancient people of Zanda, a guardian army of Bazuls once walked. Led by the ferocious Gali, the Bazuls successfully protected the Zanda people from external attacks. Until one day, when Gali was turned by the lure of the feminine creature, and Zanda never remained the same..."
As I read, a sudden chill air filled the room, and papers began flying about. Like one possessed, I couldn't bring myself to stop reading, not until the floor seemed to open before my eyes, and the figure that months of research had etched in my memory formed right in front of my eyes. At a loss as to what to do, I turned and fled the room, leaving behind the now scattered pages of George's draft, my shreded research papers, and Betty, my furry cat...
I knew Betty was dead now; the moist feeling on my hands and knees couldn't have come from anywhere else. The horrible grunt-grunt sound was now a few feet away, and I could almost feel George begin to scream. He had never been brave, except when he represented a character in his comics and novels...
His comics! Why did I not think of that...?
The bedroom door burst open, and a piece of paper fell in front of me, carried in by the wind that always accompanied a Bazul. I was drenched in sweat, but my mind was surprisingly clear now. I looked at the paper for a moment, smiled then read out loud...
"...And so did Gali fall by the hands of Gero, the savior of the human race. And none was more pleased about this monumental victory than Pete, Gero's only surviving brother.
I knew I was Pete, but it mattered little...
Gali was gone, and so was all my research work...
THE END
Written for @mctiller's Twenty Four Hour Short Story Contest
