“This is the end my only friend” a story of Peaky Morgan

A couple of months ago, I was approached by a photographer fan of The Peaky Blinders. I wanted to make a photoshoot with me, my awesome 1920’s suit and a tommy gun.
So I did my best to scribble a very short story to go add a little something to the pictures.

If you follow me on instagram, you may have already read the story.

“This is the end my only friend” Peaky Blinders with a Cthulhu Mythos twist.

A few of them trusted him. Yet nobody came. He arrived at the meeting point. The old brewery was cold and empty. Nobody came. Nobody would come anymore. They were dead, eaten or worse. He sighed. He was the last man standing. He was the last hope.

He looked out of the window. The ghouls were in reach. He could feel them, lurking in the bushes. What a fool he was, going into that tomb to get that medallion the mummy had in its bony hands. It had sealed his fate. He had sealed the world’s fate.
He opened the suitcase. The relic was glowing, pulsing with power in the thick of his dirty clothes. He threw it in the fire he lit in an old barrel. The ghouls howled angrily as if they were also burning.
He lifted his beloved Dolly and loaded it with his last cartridge.
Every bullet would count.

The first ghouls that came out of the bushes were cut in half like fresh grass. He was aiming well but he knew there were too many and he only had two magazines of ammunitions. Dolly was singing her death melody. The bodies were pilling up. The beasts came from everywhere now. Climbing on the corpses of the deceased and flooding the place.
He heard a rumbling noise in the stairs behind him and the door busted open shattering splinters everywhere. He turned toward the ghouls that ran at him. He killed as many as he could but many more were coming. They jumped on him and he fell on his back.
He could feel their foul breath, their grasp on his throat, their claws scavenging his flesh. His end was near, he knew it. That’s when he saw a bright light from the barrel. It was pulsing, it was vibrating. The mediallion rose from the fire and in mid-air casted blinding rays of light. It was as if a sun had appeared in the abandoned brewery. The ghouls howled again but this time with fear as the rays stung and turned them into dark statues. The waves of beast ebbed as the light flooded the place.
Then everything went quiet again except for the vibrating medalion. The ghouls were petrified in a grotesque dance around him. He couldn’t feel his body. He raised a hand. It was soaked in blood. He tried to lie down more comfortably on the gravel, Dolly still hot in his hand.
The pulsing medallion was casting monstrous shadows on the ceiling. He smiled. He could feel the comforting heat on his face. His smile froze and the medallion fell back in the barrel dull and cold again.

More pics from that day :

Pictures : https://www.instagram.com/confirasambre/
Awesome suite : https://www.instagram.com/mister.asticot/
Model-ish : me
Place : shhhh it was an urbex trip

Author: arthur

Arthur Morgan is a writer, traveler, speaker and podcaster from France. He has been talking about Steampunk since 2001. His interests range from 19th century fiction to urban fantasy. He loves to read Dracula in a hot bath with a good craftbeer.

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