Rage. Primal Justice.
Posted By vbpurcell on March 6, 2009
Filed Under Flash Fiction, Shapeshifters | 1 Comment
Solemn was the vibe from the cathedral bell. A hideous tone, which threatened to shatter the stained glassed images of the worrisome maiden ordained in moonlight, her modesty flowering the world with twilight and promises of peace.
Truth. There is no peace for the forsaken doomed by dark magic and the tyranny of the waning moon. My jaw tightens at this injustice. I still remember that fleeting moment, which scratched away all that I valued and loved, and replaced them with primal rage.
Rage. I feel it now as a high pitched squeal turning my stomach, teasing my strength, constricting my muscles, thumping against my ears; the fire in my soul boiling my blood. I feel the call of the now, invincibility and justice. The urge uncoiling my claws. Time to bite life. The woman will worry no more.Smash – her luminous eyes are gone with one swipe of my paw. Through her hollow eyelets, I see the horizon of twinkling lights and inhale the stink of musk, rotten offal disguised within floral scents and lolly-pop flavours. “Filthy, ripe, tasty.”
The earth grumbles as I jump up and smash my way through glass and race for the horizon. New smells reels me forward: iron, musk, wet earth, savoury meat. My bones tingle with raw energy and a mixture of agitation, excitement, nervousness and fear. They know I’m coming. Not even the night winds whipping my skin can hold me back. I will have my justice. I will dine and be complete.
“Grr!” I bellow my greeting and crash to the ground amongst a confused and panicking crowd. Pitiful cries and sobbing pleas rush through my ears. “Ugh – suffer my rage!”
A stupid creature scurries across my path. With one swipe, I scoop it up and crush its weak body; breathe in its cologne of criminal power behind cowardice. Justice is served fresh.
The moon crowns my head as I tear off its twitching arms and suck up slick metallic juices: peel of bits of cloth and crunch through bones – sighing as the taste of life gradually calms my rage. Soon, the bones are licked clean and carelessly discarded along the marred pavement. Now I feel whole and want to discover the world.
Injustice returns as a wet blanket, which wraps my body. Suddenly, I can’t stand and drop to the ground.
The night falls to an eerie quiet and the moon turns it light away from me. My skin burns with a raw, intense ache; splits and falls away. I struggle to rise but my muscles tighten so much I’m unable move. My mind swoons, nausea grips my stomach, the world spins into a mess before it fades to darkness.
The sun is scorching the earth when I wake. I’m human amongst bones and smells of last weeks meals decomposing around me. Ironic, in the foulest pit of humanity it’s where I’m the safest.
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I really, really enjoyed this one, Ronnie. Super work!