jackel
My sides quiver with every heaving breath I take; fueled by the adrenaline and whimsicality fresh from the recent chase. I'm only mildly aware of the approaching footfalls as my attention remains upon the cooling flesh in front of me. I'm staring and imagining would it would be like if my strength was greater and my teeth were sharper. Oh there could be so many possibilities. Closing my eyes tightly and raising my head toward the painted sky I laugh again, as if all my wildest dreams could come true.
There's a voice then, and at first I cast it off as one of the many in my head. That voice is so similar to another I know. But as my head lowers down to the collection of spilled blood, I see the female nightmare standing nearby. I lower my head enough to dip my nose into the red, submerging it as well as I can before withdrawing to an upright position. My mask of crimson points in her direction then, smiling with the purest innocence of a newborn babe, the only deception is my manic eyes that stare wildly at her. "I lack certain disciplines." The smile fades a degree then, "Okay I lack all discipline."
Laughing wildly then, I return to the boulder that helped me to embrace my prey. It was already shaded with the deep maroon of fading blood. I use the liquid upon my lips as the most beautiful of mediums to paint what I hope to be the most obscene of gestures aimed at the giants around me. I had counted on them to help me in my pursuit. They had let me down when I could have used me the most to use their gnarled limbs to slow the creature down. But no. Instead they jumped out of her way it seemed, choosing to reach and clutch at my golden body as I passed them by. I am rather put off by the large of it and it shows in the suggestive scribbles I put on display for them to admire.
When I am pleased enough with my masterpiece, I turn to look at the ring of giants while I sneer and smile at the same time. This is not enough.
After refilling my tool with its medium I make my way in a circle, brushing the red viscosity of myself and my victims along their cumbersome bodies. And when I come to the female nightmare I gift her with the sacrificial liquid also before repetitively circling the same path again. Passing her by again I whisper nearby, "Red looks good on you, sweetling."
But I'm not done yet. Again and again I creep in a circle amongst the giants, stepping over the heap of the broken body with every pass. There would be whispers now, oh yes. But I am ready for the gossip. Let them talk. Laughing wildly, I creep my circle again and again.
There's a voice then, and at first I cast it off as one of the many in my head. That voice is so similar to another I know. But as my head lowers down to the collection of spilled blood, I see the female nightmare standing nearby. I lower my head enough to dip my nose into the red, submerging it as well as I can before withdrawing to an upright position. My mask of crimson points in her direction then, smiling with the purest innocence of a newborn babe, the only deception is my manic eyes that stare wildly at her. "I lack certain disciplines." The smile fades a degree then, "Okay I lack all discipline."
Laughing wildly then, I return to the boulder that helped me to embrace my prey. It was already shaded with the deep maroon of fading blood. I use the liquid upon my lips as the most beautiful of mediums to paint what I hope to be the most obscene of gestures aimed at the giants around me. I had counted on them to help me in my pursuit. They had let me down when I could have used me the most to use their gnarled limbs to slow the creature down. But no. Instead they jumped out of her way it seemed, choosing to reach and clutch at my golden body as I passed them by. I am rather put off by the large of it and it shows in the suggestive scribbles I put on display for them to admire.
When I am pleased enough with my masterpiece, I turn to look at the ring of giants while I sneer and smile at the same time. This is not enough.
After refilling my tool with its medium I make my way in a circle, brushing the red viscosity of myself and my victims along their cumbersome bodies. And when I come to the female nightmare I gift her with the sacrificial liquid also before repetitively circling the same path again. Passing her by again I whisper nearby, "Red looks good on you, sweetling."
But I'm not done yet. Again and again I creep in a circle amongst the giants, stepping over the heap of the broken body with every pass. There would be whispers now, oh yes. But I am ready for the gossip. Let them talk. Laughing wildly, I creep my circle again and again.
all this joy, I've got some to share
@[Abra]