Mr. munch on's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Mr. munch on had studied necromancy for three years, and he had never raised a single dead thing. The problem was simple. He lived at the bottom of the Seventh Pit of Hades, where the ground glowed with cracked fire and nothing died, because nothing living came this deep. He needed a corpse. Without one, his spellbook was just a heavy stack of paper. He could not prove he was a necromancer at all. He paced the ledge outside his home. The infernal seams in the stone pulsed under his boots. He had memorized every raising spell. He knew the words, the gestures, the chalk marks. But a spell to wake the dead needs the dead. All he had down here was rock, heat, and one crystal flower he kept for luck. Then he heard the chains. Far below, something huge moved in the dark. Mr. munch on crept to the edge and looked. A seven-headed hound lay sprawled on the pit floor. Six heads snarled. One head hung limp and still. The beast had lost a fight. That dead head was flesh. That dead head was a corpse. His heart pounded. He could raise it. But the living heads would tear him apart the moment he came close. He needed the beast contained. He found the answer near his door. A tall iron cabinet stood there, its front lined with spikes, its panels riveted shut. He had never known its use. Now he did. He dragged it to the pit's slope and shoved. The heavy thing crashed down the rocks and slammed over the hound's front, pinning six snapping heads inside its spiked jaws. The beast howled and thrashed but could not rise. Mr. munch on scrambled down. He knelt by the dead head. His hands shook as he drew the chalk marks in the hot dust. He spoke the words he had practiced a thousand times against nothing. The dead head twitched. The eye rolled open and burned orange. It lifted on its neck, torn from the beast's shoulder by the fall, and turned to face him. It waited for his command. He had done it. He had raised the dead. He laughed, loud and wild. Then the iron cabinet groaned. The trapped heads had chewed through the spikes. The whole beast heaved. The cabinet split and clattered away, and six free heads swung toward him at once. His dead head snapped at them, loyal now, but one against six. Mr. munch on ran. He climbed the slope with his new servant scrabbling behind him. Behind them both, the wounded hound rose to its feet, furious, hunting the necromancer who had stolen a piece of it. He had proven his skill at last. Now the thing he had wounded wanted him dead, and it knew exactly where he lived.