12-07-2017, 08:19 PM
The world disintegrates around her.
It <i>drips</i> like the blood in the forest. It pulls away everything in her vision. Down, down, down. The inky sky melts into oblivion. The world at her feet collapses. She feels like she is floating, like she is free of all her worldly tethers. The stars become brighter, closer, as she seems to fall up. The weightlessness is like a rush of blood to her head. More clear than anything has been for a while. The vision is somehow beautiful and altogether terrifying.
Because she sees a monster ahead of her.
It rises out of the oblivion of deep space that holds her tight like a womb. It is everdark, moreso than the night sky around her. Moreso than the paths her friends have seemingly taken. It has ebony scales that glitter in the spacelight, speak of a violence she has never known (even in her worst hours. Remember Cecilia, how I made you a woman?) Its red eyes are like the towering beast that had chased her and the macaw through the island air. She shivers, because these too promise death. She wonders if she will die, now. After all she’s been through. Exhaustion is like lead on her floating feet, but she will not look away. She will face it, head on. The stark white fangs are revealed with a haunting smile and she shivers.
Here it comes.
But then –
Then she blinks and she is back in hell. And it should be ironic that paradise has become so much less, but she has no smiles herself. Kangaroo is there next to her with the great macaw in front of her. The pitiful thing cries – an unholy admission – and she starts towards it. Surely, she’s made a mistake. The bird needs her, needs help. And then it <i>changes</i>. A pale, beautiful stallion emerges with a glowing halo and soft shine to his skin. His once proud wings lay weak and wasted at his sides.
She takes that step.
And then she becomes so much more. Kangaroo is gone, her presence a cold absence at Zosma’s side. She is glad. Because when her bones crack and crunch (and she shifts and grows, grows) she becomes the monster. Rage blinds her to the wasted beauty ahead of her. She sees only an easy kill, a need to separate head from body. So the demon does. When her last muscle stitches into place, the wild thing roars and races to its prey.
<b>“Please, mercy,”</b> he says, <b>“I saved you.”</b>
But she is immune, quite suddenly.
She opens her mouth wide to expose her own set of glittering teeth. They close on the angel’s neck, ripping and tearing until the spinal cord lays thick like a rope across her tongue. She severs it cleanly, swishing her forked tail against her haunches in pleasure at the quick POP. Zosma leaves the once-bird with blood pooling around him in a widening circle. It shines in the tropical sun like the blood that splashes across her lips. She is still hungry. She is still so very angry.
It <i>drips</i> like the blood in the forest. It pulls away everything in her vision. Down, down, down. The inky sky melts into oblivion. The world at her feet collapses. She feels like she is floating, like she is free of all her worldly tethers. The stars become brighter, closer, as she seems to fall up. The weightlessness is like a rush of blood to her head. More clear than anything has been for a while. The vision is somehow beautiful and altogether terrifying.
Because she sees a monster ahead of her.
It rises out of the oblivion of deep space that holds her tight like a womb. It is everdark, moreso than the night sky around her. Moreso than the paths her friends have seemingly taken. It has ebony scales that glitter in the spacelight, speak of a violence she has never known (even in her worst hours. Remember Cecilia, how I made you a woman?) Its red eyes are like the towering beast that had chased her and the macaw through the island air. She shivers, because these too promise death. She wonders if she will die, now. After all she’s been through. Exhaustion is like lead on her floating feet, but she will not look away. She will face it, head on. The stark white fangs are revealed with a haunting smile and she shivers.
Here it comes.
But then –
Then she blinks and she is back in hell. And it should be ironic that paradise has become so much less, but she has no smiles herself. Kangaroo is there next to her with the great macaw in front of her. The pitiful thing cries – an unholy admission – and she starts towards it. Surely, she’s made a mistake. The bird needs her, needs help. And then it <i>changes</i>. A pale, beautiful stallion emerges with a glowing halo and soft shine to his skin. His once proud wings lay weak and wasted at his sides.
She takes that step.
And then she becomes so much more. Kangaroo is gone, her presence a cold absence at Zosma’s side. She is glad. Because when her bones crack and crunch (and she shifts and grows, grows) she becomes the monster. Rage blinds her to the wasted beauty ahead of her. She sees only an easy kill, a need to separate head from body. So the demon does. When her last muscle stitches into place, the wild thing roars and races to its prey.
<b>“Please, mercy,”</b> he says, <b>“I saved you.”</b>
But she is immune, quite suddenly.
She opens her mouth wide to expose her own set of glittering teeth. They close on the angel’s neck, ripping and tearing until the spinal cord lays thick like a rope across her tongue. She severs it cleanly, swishing her forked tail against her haunches in pleasure at the quick POP. Zosma leaves the once-bird with blood pooling around him in a widening circle. It shines in the tropical sun like the blood that splashes across her lips. She is still hungry. She is still so very angry.