I’ve witnessed Hell’s invasion of the Earth. It can be stopped.
War is Hell. It’s an old adage but an accurate one. The death, loss and suffering which comes from violent conflict touches everyone involved – civilians and soldiers alike, and on all sides of the dispute. No-one walks away unscathed. Some wars are necessary of course. Nations have the right to defend themselves against unprovoked aggression, and populations are sometimes justified in rising up against oppressive governments and dictators. Wars can result in acts of bravery and heroism that are unparalleled in human history, but they will also unleash some of our darkest impulses – unlocking primal instincts and justifying terrible acts of violence which would be considered murder in times of peace. But the many conflicts we’ve seen over the centuries all have one thing in common – they’ve all been fought between human beings. But the Final War – if and when it comes – will be one for the survival of our species, as we come together to desperately resist the Legions of Hell. By now you’ve no doubt read the accounts of my predecessors – the history enthusiast who visited a secret museum telling the story of a future apocalypse, and the student who unwittingly stumbled into an alternate universe, attending a lecture charting Hell’s victory over Allied and Axis forces during World War Two. And who am I, you might ask? Well, that’s not really important. I wish to remain anonymous for my own reasons, but let’s just say that I have a vested interest in these tales of hellish conquests and extinction events. Many will write them off as nothing more than scary stories on the internet, but I always believed there was more to it. I went out to seek the truth and I found it. A big part of me wishes I hadn’t embarked on this dangerous quest. The acts of bloody violence and wanton slaughter I’ve witnessed…those appalling images will be burnt into my memory forever. But still, I alone have seen the full picture, and I’m here to tell you the truth. Yes, we are facing a terrible fight for survival, and sadly many will suffer and die. But the outcome of the Final War is not inevitable, and we are not facing this threat alone. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning. My fascination (or rather obsession) with the myth of the Final War led me to some dark corners of the internet and far-flung places in my relentless search for clues. It was one of these hidden forums that led me to a unique living history tour which one anonymous poster described as a life-changing experience. I recognised the code words, knowing how a similar post had led the history enthusiast to the hidden museum. And so, my curiosity got the better of me, and I took the bait. The location of the tour was marked by GPS co-ordinates. When I looked it up on Google Maps, I instantly had an eureka moment. The starting point of the tour was a field just south of Thiepval, on the banks of the River Somme in North-East France. This was of course the site of one of the bloodiest battles in human history back during the blood-soaked summer of 1916, as Allied and German forces fought a horrific war of attrition in the muddy fields and trenches along a frontline that barely moved in years. From my research it seems that evil always enters our realm in these theatres of mass violence, using the blood and the darkness to their benefit and drawing strength from the death and suffering to support their hellish invasion. This was the lead I’d been waiting for – I felt sure of it. I live in the UK and so I travelled by car, embarking on the Eurotunnel shuttle from Folkstone to Calais and driving east to the Somme. I felt an incredible poignancy as I drove through the French countryside on route to Thiepval, passing the numerous graveyards and memorials. So many thousands had lost their lives here little over a century ago, churned up in the bloody inferno of industrial warfare. If I’d had the time I would have liked to pay my respects to the dead, but sadly my mission was too important and I couldn’t afford any distractions. I arrived about half an hour before the tour was due to start. This was intentional, as I wanted to learn the lay of the land before all hell broke loose – if you’ll excuse the pun. I parked up alongside a narrow and seemingly abandoned country road at the exact spot the GPS co-ordinates had led me to. The location was quiet and peaceful, the sun shining down upon a field of red poppies – a beautiful but poignant display given the poppy’s emotive symbolism and close connection to the terrible losses suffered during the Great War. There was no-one around that I could see. I spotted a farmhouse about half a mile to the north and could make out the banks of the Somme on the western horizon, but there wasn’t another living soul in sight. For a brief moment I forgot why I was there, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air and listening to the birds singing. I opened the gate and walked out into the field, picking a poppy and holding it in the palm of my hand. It was peaceful, but this wouldn’t last. He appeared in the corner of my eye, making me jump in fright. I turned to face the man who stood behind me. I knew he hadn’t been there a moment before and so his sudden appearance was disconcerting, even though I’d been warned to expect such an event. The physical appearance of the man largely matched the descriptions in the previous accounts – as he appeared near identical to the museum curator and university lecturer. He wore thick reading glasses and a tweed suit, whilst sporting a tidy beard and short haircut. I don’t know whether it’s the same individual in every story. Probably not. The more likely explanation is this – the entity has chosen to assume the identity of a seemingly harmless academic type. In reality of course, he’s anything but. It’s his eyes that give him away however, filled as they are with a barely concealed malice. He smiled thinly as he spoke, calling out to me across the field and speaking in a polite but somehow also sinister tone of voice. “Good morning sir. What a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” He marched across the field, the innate grin still on his lips as he held out his hand in an act of false friendship. I reluctantly shook his hand, not wishing to blow my cover at this early stage. A chill went through me as I touched his ice-cold palm and looked into his dark, hateful eyes. “Have you come far?” he asked, whilst maintaining his amicable pretence. “Yes, quite far.” I replied, “But the drive was rather pleasant.” “Oh excellent…excellent.” he replied enthusiastically. “Well, I see no reason for further formalities. An educated man such as yourself knows the lay of the land. So, shall we begin our tour?” His choice of words concerned me. I wasn’t surprised that the tour guide was expecting me – somehow, they always knew when we were coming. But did he know my true agenda? I certainly hoped not, because this would place me in extreme danger. Even at this late stage I considered turning on my heels and running back to my vehicle, but I’d come this far and knew I had to see this through. “Sounds good.” I responded, noting the sly glint in the tour guide’s eye and his cruel smile which never faltered. But there was a further twist in the tale to come. A moment later and a second figure appeared by our side, seeming to materialise out of thin air. I looked upon what appeared to be an elderly woman, hunched over and walking with the aid of a stick. Her head was covered by a shawl, and she also wore a heavy winter coat despite the fact it was a warm summer’s day. She glanced across at me, smiling sweetly and exerting a positive aura that was in stark contrast to that of the devilish tour guide. Her skin was wrinkled but her eyes still retained a bright spark, and she surprised me by shooting me a sly wink. I was both shocked and concerned by the old woman’s presence here. The previous accounts hadn’t mentioned anything about a third party being present during the event. I worried that this vulnerable lady had unwittingly stumbled into this very dangerous situation. My anxiety only increased when I noticed the guide’s reaction to her sudden appearance. I watched in dismay as his face turned red with rage and he angrily spat out his words. “And who are you? What the hell are you doing here?” His tone was very aggressive, but as it turned out, the old lady was more than a match for him. “Good sir, I will ask you to show some manners. I am a guest who wishes to join your tour. Is this not permitted?” she asked. “It is out of the question!” the guide shot back, “I have my guest, and this tour is one-on-one.” She glanced over at me, a spark in her eye as she said – “I’m sure this gentleman won’t mind if I tag along. What do you say young man?” My mind was racing. I didn’t want the mystery woman jeopardising my mission but at the same time felt reluctant to offend her. I stuttered my reply, saying – “Well, not as such. But…” But I didn’t get the chance to finish my sentence as she cut me off abruptly.“There, you see! It is not a problem. You’ll hardly know I’m here.” The guide still looked furious, glaring hatefully at the woman and then at me before he regained some level of self-control. “Fine.” he finally relented, “But you must not interrupt my talk or interfere with the tour in any way. Otherwise, there will be hell to pay!” I recognised a threat when I heard it, but the lady didn’t seem to notice the sinister undertone behind his words, merely nodding her head and replying – “I’ll be no trouble at all, don’t you worry good sir.” “Very well. Then let us begin.” the guide continued, whilst motioning out towards the poppy-covered fields. “Welcome guests to this most solemn and sacred of sites. As you are aware, this location was the scene of one of the bloodiest battles of the 20th century. In the late summer of 1914, the European Powers went to war, with an alliance of Britain, France and Russia pitted against the Central Powers of Germany, Austria-Hungary and the Ottoman Empire. The German High Command launched their Schlieffen Plan, mounting an invasion of Belgium and North-East France with the aim of capturing Paris and forcing the French out of the war. The German plan failed however, as their armies were pushed back from the French capital and a bloody war of attrition followed, with neither side able to make significant headway. Terrible weaponry was deployed – artillery, machineguns, poison gas. Casualties were horrific and the blood-soaked, muddy and rat-infested trenches soon turned into a hell on earth. During the summer of 1916, Allied forces launched their long-awaited offensive along the River Somme. The attack was preceded by a huge artillery bombardment lasting days. The British believed the German defences couldn’t survive such a heavy bombardment, but they were wrong. What followed was a bloodbath, one which ultimately resulted in one million casualties and made little change to the front. Right here where we stand, the British X Corps pushed forward across no-man’s land on the 1 July 1916…the bloodiest day in the history of the British Army. On this ground, just over one hundred years ago, thousands of men died under a reign of fire. It’s hard to imagine such death and suffering occurred here, isn’t it?” “Yes.” I answered truthfully, as I cast my eyes over the tranquil fields. “Time is a great healer.” The old woman added. “Well, time isn’t something which concerns us here. We offer a unique experience, one which allows our guests to see and hear first-hand what war is really like.” I stared at the tour guide in confusion, asking – “What do you mean?” The guide smiled sadistically and my heart froze, because I knew something bad was coming. But the trick that bastard pulled was really unexpected. All he had to do was click his fingers to turn the world upside down. I felt a surge of energy and was temporarily blinded by an intense light brighter than the sun. I fell down to my knees, covering my eyes behind my hands. And when I opened them again, I found myself in another place, or more accurately another time. The poppy fields, trees, tidy fences and farmhouse were replaced by a dead landscape of mud, barbed wire and shell craters. The sun had risen on the far horizon, but there was no joy in this new morning. As soon as I surveyed my surroundings my eardrums were almost burst by a series of almighty explosions, an unholy fire raining down from above. I looked to the east and saw the shells falling, the blasts hitting the trench-line and concrete bunkers. When I turned to the west I saw the guns lighting up on horizon with a second trench-line in front of them. To my horror I realised we’d been transported back to July 1916, right in the middle of the battle. What’s worse, the three of us were standing in no man’s land between the British and German lines. I told myself it couldn’t be possible – that this must be an optical illusion of some kind, but it all seemed so real…the mud beneath my feet, the thundering sound of the artillery barrage, and even the smell…the cordite, smoke and awful stench of rotting corpses. I was understandably terrified because I’d suddenly found myself standing in the most dangerous spot on earth, stuck between two industrial-age armies and their deadly array of weaponry. But when I looked to my mysterious companions, I saw they had no such fear.“Do not worry sir.” said the guide, this voice somehow audible even above the hellish din of the artillery. “You are quite safe as long as you stay by my side.” I looked to the old lady for assurance as she seemed privy to whatever devilish trick the guide had pulled to bring us to this hellscape. “This man will lie to you about most things. But on this, he is telling the truth.” she confirmed. I shook my head in dismay, my brain still unable to comprehend what was happening to me. I knew going in that this wasn’t going to be easy and had fully expected to witness terrible things, but this was beyond my wildest imagination. I froze to the spot, suddenly realising that the artillery bombardment had ended and an eerie silence had come over the battlefield. But of course, it didn’t last. Then I heard the series of sharp whistles from the British trench-line and I watched on in horror as ladders were raised and helmeted Tommies emerged, striding out into the killing fields. “My God!” I swore, and tears rolled down my cheeks as I watched the tragedy unfold. “And here they come, lambs to the slaughter.” said the tour guide, a sick smile across his face as he spoke. “Lions led by donkeys.” the old lady added, a terrible sadness in her voice. The first wave of soldiers were barely out of the trenches before the machinegun fire began, a relentless barrage of bullets which cut human beings to shreds. Soldier after soldier fell, dropping dead or wounded in the mud and wire, their awful screams audible even above the heavy din of gunfire. But still they came, company after company of brave men throwing themselves into the breach, stepping over the bodies of their kinsmen as they pushed forward towards the German lines. We were literally standing in the middle of this living hell, watching as bodies fell all around us. But, thanks to whatever black magic the guide had conjured, it appeared we were safe from harm. The soldiers on both sides weren’t able to see us, and the bullets and shrapnel couldn’t hurt us. There was death and devastation all around us, but it was like we were contained within some kind of protective bubble. But still, no man’s land was a living hell, as young men continued to fall in a wanton slaughter – their fragile bodies torn apart by high-velocity bullets and their blood and guts littering the battlefield. One young soldier fell only feet away from where I stood, dropping his rifle as a bullet pierced his chest. He looked up as he fell, his young eyes full of pain and fear. I swear he made eye contact with me for a brief moment before he took his final breath and left the mortal plane. The old lady walked up beside me and spoke into my ear.“Such a sad thing, to see a young life snuffed out so violently. He died alone and scared, so far from his home. What was his name? Where was he from? What were his hopes and dreams? Each death is its own individual tragedy and there are so many…” Her words moved me, but they clearly angered the guide.“Bah! Enough of this sentimental rubbish!” he snarled, “War is war. And besides, the main event is still to come!” I shot him a look, wondering what he meant. And all of a sudden everything stopped – the machineguns and artillery all ceased and the advancing troops – those who were still alive – stopped in their tracks, simply standing still in the middle of no man’s land. I felt concern, wondering what the hell was happening. Had a ceasefire been called? No, that couldn’t be right. It didn’t match the history I’d learnt. I had a terrible feeling deep in the pit of my stomach, knowing that something horrifying was about to occur. The ground beneath our feet shook and I almost fell down into the mud. I looked to my companions and noted the sharp contrast in their expressions. The old lady’s face was filled with sorrow – a look of sad resignation. Meanwhile, the guide was almost giddy as he watched the chaos unfold. “Violence and death on this scale. This carnage always presents an opportunity for our forces…But of course, you already know this, don’t you sir?” He winked at me in a frightening fashion and I knew right then that he was on to me. I opened my mouth to speak but didn’t get the chance to respond, as a moment later the two trench-lines lit up in a fiery inferno. In a panic I looked up into the morning sky and saw hundreds of fireballs descending – each the size of a car and each guided by an unseen force. They hit both the British and German lines simultaneously and with deadly precision, setting the trenches on fire and causing utter carnage. “Our initial attacks are infinitely more successful than the artillery strikes,” announced the guide, “delving deep underground and incinerating men inside their bunkers. The mortals don’t stand a chance.” As if to emphasise his point, I heard the chilling cries of men being burnt alive, and my nostrils were filled with the foul stench of burning flesh. It was difficult to imagine a battle as brutal as the Somme becoming even more horrific, and yet this was what I was witnessing. I realised then that the demonic guide hadn’t just transported me back in time, but also to another dimension, one where Hell’s legions had chosen 1916 as their year of invasion. The fiery orbs always came first – I knew this from reading the previous accounts. But this wasn’t the end of the assault. I turned slowly, seeing movement out of the corner of my eye. Glancing downwards, I was horrified to witness the dead soldier suddenly twitch and then move, his body brought back to life by a dark force. His joints cracked as he clumsily stood, his eyes dead and his jaw hanging open. He looked like some kind of meat puppet, held up by invisible strings, and for a brief moment he – or rather it – stood still, seeming to stare straight at me. When it charged I screamed, and my instincts told me to flee, but when I tried to run the old lady grabbed my arm tightly, holding me back. I was surprised by how strong she was. “Don’t.” she ordered, “If you leave this circle you will die.” And she was right. The reanimated soldier ran right past us, instead sinking its teeth into another British Tommy, hungrily devouring a young man who may have been his friend only minutes before. I turned away in disgust from the gore, only to discover this gruesome scene was being replicated all across the battlefield, as thousands of British and German soldiers came back in a zombified state, launching savage attacks against the living. Former enemies became allies as they desperately fought back against the zombie hordes, firing rifles and machineguns and ultimately fighting back using bayonets and rifle butts. But it was futile, as every time a man fell dead, he would immediately come back on the enemy’s side. Soon, all of no-man’s land was dominated by the zombie hordes, and they hunted down the survivors in a bloodthirsty frenzy, tearing men to pieces with their bare hands and feasting upon their still warm flesh. I was horrified, dropping to my knees and vomiting in the mud, my whole body shaking as I felt like I was going to pass out. The old woman placed a delicate hand on my shoulder and spoke soothing words in my ear. “There there, young man. What we are witnessing is pure evil, but you are strong and we can get through this together.” The guide responded with cruel mockery however, looking down upon me with utter contempt. “Oh dear sir. Are you feeling poorly? All a bit too much for you I suppose…Well, we’re just about done at this location anyway. Time for a change of scenery. How about some sea air?”With that, he clicked his fingers for a second time and I found myself transported to yet another time and place. I felt the sea breeze against my skin and sand beneath my feet. Looking across the sandy beach, I witnessed a heavily militarised coastline, with X-shaped tank traps and barbed wire, and with the cliffs above fortified with concrete bunkers and pillboxes. And then I looked out to sea, reacting with shock as I witnessed a vast armada of warships and landing craft cutting through the waves and rapidly approaching the shoreline. “The date, 6 June 1944.” the guide stated, “Omaha Beach, Normandy. After years of preparation, Allied forces launch Operation Overlord – the invasion of German-occupied France. The Allies enjoy a substantial superiority in the air and at sea, but the German coastal defences are strong, and the first wave of infantry will be vulnerable.” “The supreme sacrifice those young men will make.” the old lady added, “Travelling halfway across the world to fight against an evil regime, all in the name of liberty. We bear witness to heroics even in these dark times. They fight because they believe in something greater than themselves.” The guide snarled at the woman, casting her a hateful look. The tension between the two was growing and I feared how it would end. But there wasn’t time to think about that now, as once again the chaos of battle took hold all around us. Shells flew over our heads, with Allied destroyers bombarding the shore fortifications and German 88 guns shooting back at them. Several of the landing craft were hit, exploding into fiery infernos, the GIs onboard dying horribly before they even reached the beach. The next wave didn’t fare much better. As soon as the craft reached the shore and the landing ramps came down, a heavy barrage of bullets from the German machineguns tore into the American soldiers, killing and wounding dozens in a matter of minutes. But still they came, advancing up the beach, using the metal obstacles for cover as they returned fire and slowly pushed towards the cliffs. Many men were dying before my very eyes and it was a horrific sight, but I was also confused. I was thinking back to the student’s account, the one who attended the lecture in an alternate, hellish realm. In that dimension, Hell’s legions had invaded in late 1942 and so the D-Day landings had never taken place. So, what was this? What was the guide subjecting me to? Was I seeing the Normandy invasion in my own timeline or was this the history of yet another alternate dimension? I soon got my answer. My heart froze as the ground shook and the battle suddenly paused. I knew what was coming next. My attention was drawn to the cliffside, as suddenly the German pillboxes were struck by deadly fireballs and exploded into flames. Some of the American GIs cried out in triumph, apparently believing that their side had done the damage. But sadly, they were mistaken. I turned towards the English Channel and witnessed the sea boiling, waves rising as something huge and horrifying emerged from the depths. I knew what it was – having read the previous accounts. But hearing the stories could never have prepared me for seeing the beast first hand. As I stood in shocked awe, the guide walked up beside me, sporting a sadistic grin as he confirmed what I already knew. “The Leviathan. Terror of the seas. No man-made vessel can withstand its deadly grasp.”As if to emphasise his point, the creature raised its enormous tentacles above the surface, wrapping them around the nearest Allied warship. I could only look on in horror as the beast used its immense size and strength to crush the steel hull. I heard a terrible screeching sound of crushed metal and of sailors crying out in absolute terror. The beast slowly pulled the destroyer downwards, condemning its crew to a watery grave. Its terrible task done, the beast moved onto its next target, attacking a second warship with impunity. The GIs on the beach had stopped fighting as all now looked back towards the sea, unable to comprehend the horror they were witnessing. Some of the landing craft had made landfall while others were still on the water. The landing was already in disarray, but Hell’s forces had yet another devilish trick up their sleeves. I saw movement underneath the water’s surface as yet unseen predators swam into position and prepared to attack. The first beast leapt up from the water, literally jumping into a water-borne landing craft and tearing into the men inside in a bloody massacre. It all happened so quickly that I hadn’t gotten a good look at the monster, but hundreds more were coming, emerging from the depths to attack both the boats and the shoreline.The best way I can describe them is sea serpents, each at least twenty foot long and covered in thick, green scales – their eyes a hellish shade of red and their hideous maws filled with dagger-like fangs. The beasts attacked with a predatory instinct, swimming the shallow waters and slithering along the sands. Soldiers screamed as they tried in vain to mount a defence, but the serpents leapt upon them, swallowing men whole in a horrifying massacre. I turned away, closing my eyes and covering my ears. Once again, the old lady came to my aid. “Remember young man, the so-called guide is a liar. You cannot trust what he shows you.”I opened my eyes and raised my head, meeting her gaze as I shouted my angry reply. “But this has happened! It is history! Maybe not in my world, but that doesn’t make it any less real!” The woman smiled thinly, shaking her head. “The truth is not so simple, and there is always hope.” she answered, pointing towards the cliff-face. “Look.” I glanced over to the end of the beach, amazed to see German and American troops combining forces, forming a defensive cordon and shooting down serpents, killing several as they held the line against all the odds. “Very admirable.” the guide said, “But sadly futile.” He nodded his head upwards and I saw the monsters descending from the blue skies, merely dots at first, but then I made out their true form…Harpies, winged demons – red-scaled and armed with razor-sharp fangs and claws. Hundreds of monsters stealthily dived from above and launched their surprise assault upon the exposed human soldiers. I saw the massacre coming and cried out a warning, forgetting for a moment that these men could neither hear nor see me. The guide cackled cruelly as the winged beasts tore into their prey, ripping bodies apart in a sickening bloodbath. For all their bravery, these men couldn’t withstand this combined attack, and soon the serpents and harpies slaughtered them in their hundreds, the foul beasts fighting each other as they hungrily devoured their victims.Once again I turned away in disgust, not wanting to meet the old lady’s eye because I knew she’d lied to me. She also remained silent and so it was left to the demonic guide to speak next. “Well, I think we’ve seen enough. Time to move onto our next location.” Another click of his fingers and a blinding flash, and we were shifted to yet another hellish alternate dimension. The first thing that hit me was the stifling heat and the thick air – a humidity which made me sweat and struggle to breathe. I opened my eyes and found myself surrounded by a dense tropical forest, tall trees towering above us and a thick vegetation crudely cut back by human hands. I realised then that the guide had transported us to a different continent as well as time and dimension. We were now in the tropics and witnessing a very different type of conflict. “In most dimensions the Second World War ends with the Allies victorious.” the guide calmly explained, “But soon after, a Cold War breaks out between the United States and Soviet Union, as an Iron Curtain descends and the world is divided between the communist and capitalist blocs. The advent of nuclear weapons makes all-out conflict unlikely, as neither side wants to risk triggering an apocalypse. This development frustrates my master’s objectives, but there are still opportunities in the chaos, as the two superpowers vie for control and influence across the globe. This results in brutal proxy wars such as this – unconventional conflicts, but no less brutal and bloody…” He paused briefly, waving his hand to draw attention to our surroundings. “Welcome to Indo-China, 1968. America has poured in vast numbers of troops and firepower in an attempt to defeat the communist insurgency, but their war effort is frustrated by the tenacity of the guerrilla forces. A bloody stalemate ensues and – as always – we are ready to step into the darkness.” Our attentions were drawn to the skies above as I heard the recognisable drone of rotor blades and spotted the Huey troop-carrying helicopter descending, noisily making landfall in the rice paddy field where we stood. The powerful gust of hot air hit me and the intense sound of the rotor blades spinning blocked out all other sounds. We watched as a squad of eight heavily armed US infantrymen jumped out from the chopper’s side door and set up a defensive perimeter on the edge of the field, their weapons facing out towards the treeline. And then the helicopter ascended, slowly pulling up from the field and back into the blue skies, whilst leaving the troops behind to perform their mission.The soldiers couldn’t see us of course, but we were able to observe them at close quarters as they formed up and began their designated patrol into the jungle. We followed after the men, remaining inside of our protective bubble thanks to whatever dark magic the guide had evoked, but still exposed to the sights, sounds and smells of the tropical forest and of course the stifling, exhausting heat. I could tell how tense the soldiers were under the circumstances, twitching at every rustle of leaves, whispering about ambushes and punji traps. This was the frightening reality of counter-insurgency warfare, where an attack could come from anywhere at any time and there were no clearly defined frontlines. We hadn’t walked for long before we reached a clearing, casting our weary eyes upon a small village of bamboo huts, and my nostrils were again hit by the foul stench of death. We watched as the American soldiers discovered the first body, followed by another…and another. The squad would have descended into blind panic had it not been for the stern orders of their sergeant. “Keep your shit together boys!” he boomed, “We still have a job to do. Watch the treeline and look out for booby traps.” His men reluctantly obeyed orders but the panicked conversation continued as more bodies were found. We saw what they saw, and I was sickened by the carnage. Clearly, the dead weren’t Vietcong fighters but rather unarmed civilians – old men, women and children. Not only that, but their bodies were badly mutilated – torn apart, leaving blood and entrails scattered across the forest floor. There were seemingly no survivors as even the village’s livestock – goats and chickens – had been similarly slaughtered. It was sickening. We listened to the troops hurried chatter as the situation grew even more tense.“What the fuck? Did Charlie do this?” one young private asked. “Maybe. Although I’ve never seen a massacre like this.” replied the sergeant. “I don’t think humans did this.” chirped in another man, “Look at the bite marks on the bodies. It looks like an animal attack to me.” “That’s crazy,” answered the sergeant, “no animal could do this.” But he didn’t sound too sure. There was a terrible atmosphere in the air as the soldiers held a silent vigil over the dead. It seemed certain that something bad was about to occur and so it was hardly a surprise when the attack was launched. A man screamed, pointing to the deep undergrowth as a pair of glowing red eyes appeared in the shadows. There followed a deep, animalistic growl…and then bloody chaos. A beast moved rapidly out into the open – a blur of fur and teeth that pounced upon the nearest soldier before he could react. The man screamed, firing his M-16 blindly into the air as he was knocked down and then mauled in a gruesome manner, the beast tearing into his chest and ripping out his heart. The rest of his squad reacted with shock, as nothing in their training or experience had prepared them for this. “Contact!” the sergeant cried, as he raised his rifle and fired. “Holy shit! They’re everywhere!” screamed another man. And sure enough, several more of the hellish beasts emerged from the surrounding forest, launching savage attacks at lightning speed. The remaining soldiers fired wildly in all directions, but the creatures moved so rapidly that they couldn’t get a fix on them. I could only watch on in abject horror as man after man got cut down in a frenzied assault. One soldier’s head was sliced off with a single swipe of a claw, while several others were dragged into the forest, still screaming frantically as they clawed at the dirt in a futile attempt to escape. The sergeant was the last man standing and he managed to shoot and wound one of the beasts before two others grabbed him from both sides, using immense strength to rip his arms from their sockets. It was only then that I got a good look at the creatures as they finished the slaughter and feasted upon the flesh of their newest victims. They were werewolves – half man, half canine…their eyes burning a demonic red and their blood-filled maws filled with razor-sharp teeth. I had heard mention of such creatures in the previous accounts, but nothing could have prepared me for seeing them in the flesh, or for the speed and savagery of their attack. “Soulless savage beasts.” the old lady muttered, as she came by my side. “They do not discriminate in their victims and belief in nothing. Their only desire is to satisfy their unrelenting hunger and bloodlust.” “You’re wrong!” the guide shot back angrily, “It is true that our shock troops do not discriminate. Capitalist or communist, soldier or civilian…their flesh all tastes the same. But these beasts do serve a higher purpose. They are loyal to their master, and his goal is clear – to destroy mankind and gain dominion over the Earth. In this, he will succeed.” “I wouldn’t be so sure of that…” the old lady replied cryptically. The two bizarre individuals glared at each other for a long moment as the werewolves continued to feast on dead men. I could tell the passionate hatred they held for each other and for a second feared that violence would ensue, but then the guide broke the silence, speaking with the same cruel smile etched across his lips. “Well, I guess further proof is required, even after everything we’ve seen. But that’s okay. I have a special surprise in store for our guest.” He stared at me with his evil eyes, and I felt a cold chill run down my spine. “Sir, you are an Englishman, are you not?” he enquired. “Yes.” I replied nervously, fearing where this was going. “Very good,” the guide continued, “let’s take a glimpse at your country’s near future!”Another flash of light and suddenly I found myself in my home city of London, standing on that I believed was Oxford Street, but it was not the busy shopping district I remembered. England’s capital had been transformed into a post-apocalyptic hellscape – with the streets abandoned, shopfronts smashed open and looted, and the skyscrapers and historical buildings burning. “Welcome home.” the guide sneered with a perverse satisfaction, “Not quite as you remember it, I expect. The year is twenty twenty something…Well, why ruin the surprise? Now watch.” I felt a rage building up inside me as I clenched my fists. I wanted to beat the bastard bloody but the old lady stopped me. “Keep your cool young man,” she cautioned, “Don’t let him provoke you. This will all be over soon.” I was still angry and frightened but events were playing out in front of my very eyes. At the far end of the street was a barricade manned by a platoon of British soldiers, most armed with SA-80s but some carrying Javelin anti-tank missile launchers. The infantrymen were supported by a Challenger main battle tank which blocked off the street. I guessed these troops were mounting a last-ditch defence, but from what? I soon got my answer. The ground shook beneath our feet and I heard a loud thumping on the asphalt, a thunderous booming sound which grew ever louder. Suddenly, a huge creature smashed through one of the ruined buildings, emerging onto the previously empty street. I looked up, horrified to see a demon 50 – 60 foot tall, with the horned head and hoofed feet of an animal but the body of a man, adorned in thick steel armour. Its eyes burned a fiery red and it opened its huge mouth to reveal rows of shark-like teeth. The beast emitted a terrifying roar which filled the air and it charged down the street towards the troops, the ground shaking underneath its huge hooves. The soldiers opened up with every weapon at their disposal. The rifle rounds had no effect, merely deflecting off the demon’s armour like pebbles bouncing off a metal sheet. But then the Challenger opened fire with its main cannon, producing an almighty boom. The shell was propelled across the void and smashed into the demon’s armour-plated chest. The heavy projectile stopped the monster in its tracks. It roared in pain and anger, but the shell didn’t bring him down, instead only temporarily delaying its advance. What happened next was either the result of great skill or a total fluke. A Javelin missile soared through the air and hit the charging demon directly in its left eye. The projectile tore through the soft tissue and exploded inside the demon’s brain. The monster was killed instantly, its huge frame falling and crashing down onto the street only yards away from where we stood, the sheer weight of its enormous body cracking the concrete beneath it. The soldiers cried out in triumph and I shared their elation. From what I’d read in the previous accounts, these goliath-like demons were thought to be virtually indestructible, but what I’d just seen proved they could be killed. But then I remembered something else from the stories – that these demons always fought in threes. The second demon suddenly emerged at the far end of Oxford Street, raising a crossbow-like weapon to its shoulder and firing. A bolt tore through the air as fast as any man-made missile, smashing into the tank and tearing through its thick armour, reducing the hi-tech war machine to a flaming wreck. The surviving soldiers were left in disarray as suddenly the third demon stomped down the street from behind them, roaring with fury as it swung its huge, fiery sword. I could only watch in abject horror as the demon killed a half dozen troops at once, slicing them in half and staining the footpath with blood and gore. The survivors broke, fleeing in all directions whilst firing wildly at their giant attackers. I doubted they would get far. “Well, that’s the end of that.” the guide said, with the same cruel smirk on his face. He pointed to the entrance of the tube station across the road. “The rats always flee underground at times like this. Let’s take a look.” He began walking across the rubble-strewn tarmac, ignoring the monstrous demons as they picked off the remaining soldiers one-by-one. I didn’t follow straight away, instead looking to the elderly woman for reassurance. “It won’t be easy,” she explained, “but you need to see this. It’s too late to turn back now young man.” I nodded my head and we proceeded across the street, following the guide down the stairs to the station below ground. Once we’d passed through the smashed-up turnstiles we witnessed yet another horrifying scene – perhaps the worst yet. There were a few other soldiers down here – a mix from different regiments and even some armed Met police officers. They all appeared exhausted and terrified but still maintained a loose cordon along the station’s platform. But the true horror was behind the armed men and women – several hundred civilians…men, women and children, all huddled together along the platform. I looked into those faces and saw nothing but fear and pain. All were dirty and emaciated refugees in their own country, seeking sanctuary underground since the enemy now controlled the streets above.The London Underground had served as a refuge before, back in the dark days of the Blitz during World War Two. But now the displaced Londoners were hiding from an enemy more evil than even the Nazis. We walked across the platform, unseen by the military personnel and huddled refugees. An officer was screaming into a radio, desperately pleading for outside assistance. There was nothing I could do but listen. “God damn it man!” he shouted, “I have over 500 civilians down here! We need an immediate evacuation!” “I’m sorry colonel,” came the sheepish reply from the other end, “No helicopters are available. There’s nothing we can do.” “I won’t accept that!” the colonel screamed, “Let me speak with your superior officer!”“Hold please.” came the nervous reply. A tense pause followed before the static was replaced by a new voice – a female voice, confident but also exhausted. Her tone indicated immediately that it wasn’t good news.“Colonel, this is your prime minister speaking.” The officer’s eyes bulged and he visibly gulped before responding – “Ma’am?” “I’m very sorry colonel,” she continued, “this is the most difficult decision a leader will ever have to make, and I thought I owed it to you…to tell you in person.” There was a tense pause, as it seemed the politician was struggling to find the words. “My military advisors tell me there is no other alternative. I have authorised Operation Holy Fire. Trident has been deployed…I am so sorry colonel. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.” And with that, the radio call was abruptly ended. The colonel was in a state of shock, still holding onto the receiver as he looked upon the huddled refugees, his eyes wide with horror. And I understood why. Trident meant nuclear weapons. The British government had decided to nuke their own capital…that’s what it had come to. What madness, what desperation had led them to this place? Mercifully, there wasn’t long to wait before the terrible end. A thunderous boom and a wall of fire, and the ceiling collapsed, burying hundreds of screaming civilians and soldiers under tonnes of debris. I fell to my knees, covering my eyes and ears in a futile attempt to drown out the horror. But it was all over almost as quickly as it had begun, and the smug guide transported us back to the present day. I found myself curled up in a ball on the platform of Oxford Circus tube station, the guide and old lady standing over me as puzzled commuters pushed past us. “Are you alright mate?” asked one man, as he looked down upon me with concern.I quickly composed myself, wiping the cold sweat off my forehead as I stood up on my shaking legs. “Yes, I’m fine.” I answered sheepishly, although in reality I was anything but. I’d been dragged through hell and back, but I knew this wasn’t over. I looked to my two companions but found they were almost oblivious to my presence, glaring at each other across the crowded platform. “Time to end this.” the guide snarled through clenched teeth. “Agreed.” the woman replied, “But not here.” “Fine.” the guide answered before he clicked his fingers again. Another flash of light and we went to another place. In an instant I was hit by a freezing cold wind that chilled me to my bones. Looking around I saw we were now stood upon a frozen mountain, with nothing but white snow in every direction. My teeth chattered and my whole body shook uncontrollably as the guide spoke.“The Watkins Range, Greenland. Nothing much has ever happened here, but it is isolated and far away from curious eyes and so will serve our purpose.” I continued to shiver, wondering how I could survive this intense cold. The old lady broke eye contact with her adversary, looking down upon me with sympathy in her eyes. To my shock she removed her heavy coat, revealing the frail body underneath. “Here you go young man.” she said, whilst holding the coat out to me with her bony hand. I shook my head and muttered through my blue lips – “I can’t.” No matter how cold I was, I wasn’t going to deprive an eighty year old woman of her winter coat. “Trust me,” she replied with a kind smile, “you need it more than I do.” Somehow I believed her, and I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I took the coat and put it on, savouring the warmth and protection it offered. “Very touching.” the guide mocked, “You’re quite the guardian angel, aren’t you?” “I do what I can to bring some small comfort.” the lady replied, whilst fearlessly meeting the guide’s eye. “You bloody bitch!” he spat out hatefully, this face turning red with fury. “You think I don’t know who you really are? I clocked you as soon as I saw you!” “How very perceptive of you.” she replied sarcastically. This only added to the guide’s anger. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he shouted.“I’m here to stop you.” she responded firmly, without missing a beat. He laughed in cruel mockery before answering. “You still don’t get it, do you? We will win. Earth will fall and humanity shall perish. That’s inevitable…in every timeline we will ultimately emerge victorious!” The woman smiled faintly before delivering her rebuttal. “Nothing is inevitable. The future is not set in stone, and whatever evils your master has perpetrated can be undone. You will not win!” “Enough talk!” the guide screamed, his eyes bulging with rage. “Let’s settle this!”And then, hell really did break loose. The first thing I noticed was the guide’s eyes turning a hellish shade of red, and then the horns which suddenly extended from his forehead. His white teeth become fangs and his body grew at an impossible rate, as his height doubled, then trebled…and it didn’t stop there. I stepped back, looking up in horrified awe as our former ‘guide’ transformed into one of the goliath-like demon foot-soldiers, close to sixty foot tall, his hooves buried deep in the snow. He roared at a deafening volume, so loud that I feared he might cause an avalanche. But instead he produced a huge sword – easily three times the length of a man. The hideous weapon burned red with a fiery intensity, suddenly heating up the otherwise freezing environment. I was horrified to witness the so-called guide in his monstrous true form – a soldier of Hell ready to do battle. But I wasn’t his target. The beast’s focus was the old lady, and – on paper – it couldn’t have been a greater mismatch. But the elderly woman wasn’t as she appeared either. When I glanced back in her direction I saw she was changing too – turning into a much younger and stronger woman – her hair silver and eyes a striking shade of deep blue. Her body grew too and soon she towered over me. But that wasn’t all. I watched in astonishment as the woman extended a pair of huge wings from her back, flapping them smoothly as she rose up from the snow-covered ground. And then I finally understood – the woman wasn’t human, she was an angel…my guardian angel in disguise, protecting me this whole time. Her former walking stick became a sword of white light, almost as long as I was tall. At her full height she was at least twelve foot tall but still dwarfed by the giant demon opposing her. I didn’t know how she could win this fight, but my angel was full of surprises. The demon roared once more, charging across the snow as the whole mountain shook beneath his huge hooves. He swung his mighty sword with brutish strength, attempting to slice the angel in two. But while he had the size and strength, she had the speed and agility. The angel flew out of the path of the fiery sword, deftly avoiding the killer blow. The demon roared in frustration as it pulled its sword out of the snow, but the angel had already launched her counter-attack, soaring in low and cutting her enemy across his thigh, slicing deep into his exposed flesh. The monster cried out in pain, angrily swinging its sword in her direction, but once again she dodged the blow and struck back. This routine was repeated several times over, with the demon thrashing out and the angel avoiding the blows before launching her own small attacks, cutting the beast repeatedly on his chest, arms and legs. I guessed she was trying to kill the demon through a thousand cuts, gradually draining his strength and bleeding him out. It was a good strategy, but her luck didn’t last. The angel was a fraction too late as the fiery sword came down upon her. She managed to parry the heavy blow with her own sword but the sheer force of the strike knocked her out of the sky, throwing her body backwards as she hit the ground hard. I gasped in horror, looking to the spot where my guardian angel had fallen and silently begging her to get up, but it seemed like she was incapacitated. The demon sported a sadistic grin, showing his shark-like teeth as he raised his mighty sword and went in for the kill. I feared it was all over, but at the last possible second the angel opened her eyes and moved. The demon’s sword was harmlessly buried in the snow as the angel darted upwards, extending her sword and screaming with a righteous fury as she soared upwards, acting like a missile homing in on its target. She hit the demon square in the chest, stabbing him right where his heart would be. The monster cried out in agony, its huge frame suddenly falling backwards as the angel withdrew her sword from his flesh, letting the monster’s red blood spill over the pure white snow.The demon landed heavily on the mountainside, the sheer weight of its immense body shaking the ground underneath him. But the mortally wounded monster would transform once again in its dying moments, changing back into its human form. The guide lay inside the huge crater, his heart pierced as he bled heavily. The angel and I ran to his side, getting there just in time to hear his final words. The demonic entity laughed even as he choked on his own blood. “You think this is over…” he spluttered, his eyes still full of hatred as he glared up at us. “You think you’ve won, but you’re wrong! My master will not stop…He will continue the fight.” “And we will be ready for him.” the angel replied defiantly. The guide tried to speak again but instead the blood poured from his open mouth and he closed his eyes for the last time. I breathed a deep sigh of relief although was still in a state of shock after witnessing the violent struggle. The angel sheathed her sword and smiled at me sympathetically, her eyes now filled with kindness. “Come on young man, let’s get you home.” There followed a flash of light and suddenly I was back where it had all started – the poppy field in North-East France, in the current day and my own timeline. I looked to my companion and saw she had returned to her previous form – that of an elderly, frail and seemingly harmless lady. She held out a hand expectantly and said – “My coat please?” I gladly removed the garment and handed it back to her, although I wouldn’t soon forget the warmth and comfort the coat had offered me in my time of need. I watched as she put the garment back on to cover her frail form, although I now knew this was merely a façade.“I am grateful to you.” I said nervously, “But there is so much I still don’t understand.” She smiled at that. “You understand more than you think. You came here looking for answers and you’ve found them. The threat posed by the Legions of Hell is very real, and someday – perhaps someday soon – they will launch their invasion of your world. The conflict will be brutal and bloody and sadly many will perish. But the outcome is not inevitable. You are not alone in this fight and together we can triumph against evil. You just need to keep the faith.” She paused, looking out over the fields and pointing towards the bright sun on the far horizon. “Even here there is beauty, after all the suffering and death that once occurred where we stand. There is always hope for a brighter future. Remember that young man.”I looked to the horizon briefly and when I turned back the woman was gone, leaving me alone in the field with my thoughts. So, there you have it good people – my story in its entirety. Its far-fetched, and many of you may not believe it, but I swear my account is the truth. I’m telling you all this to back up my predecessors and also to pass on the warning. War is coming, but all is not lost. There is much darkness in this world but there is also light…And they say the night is always darkest before the dawn. God speed my friends. Credit: Woundlicker Facebook Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.