"The Beast" -- Feast
It was crunching on bones, the fresh, cooling flesh and cartilage ripping from broken limbs. He laid perfectly still in the darkness, tear-streaked face pressed against the cold stones. Vomit seeped out between his fingers. It reeked in his dirty blonde hair, but not so much as the natural scent of the shadow hulking over the body of his late partner.
They'd heard the stories of this crumbling castle. Crowded around the fireplace at his family home, he'd listened in horror while his brothers whispered tales of the cruel prince in the black tower. Beautiful and terrible, he delighted in the anguish of others, strangers and subjects alike. Then came the sorceress, who cursed him so he would be just as hideous outside as within. The atrocities in the village faded as the servants fled from their hideous master, but those brave enough -- or foolish enough-- to step into those darkened halls as they fell into ruin, would find themselves at the mercy of a creature now as wild and powerful as he was bloodthirsty.
Oh, what a fool he was! Greedily hungry for the supposed riches inside, he and his closest chum nudged through the rotted double doors at the entrance. The halls were dark, yawning into echoes of blackness itself. Bolstered by torchlight and stomachs full of ale, they ventured to the darkest corners. Determined to find gold. Determined to overcome childhood fears and foolish provincial superstition. Their laughter kept their spirits high.
Until they reached the wine cellar, and the torch he carried was extinguished by a spray of hot blood from his friend's mutilated midsection. The bones broke, his two halves plummeting to the ground under the strike of a powerful paw. He smelled his guts rip open on the broken stones, followed by the sound of his golden heart and bottomless stomach slapping the ground.
He had sense enough to keep from screaming, though his vomit splashing the floor could've been a wail itself. Mind spinning, he dropped to his knees and backed up fast as he could manage. he hadn't the faintest idea as to where he could hide. He just knew he had to.
His legs were clamped by a low.. low something. Maybe a cask of win. For once, he was thankful for his pitifully thin form, as it let him fit snugly underneath. While he welcomed the security, his fear was amplified tenfold with the addition of claustrophobia in the pitch darkness. His hands pressed against his mouth to muffle his panicked breathing.
Aside from the roaring between his ears, he heard nothing else at first. His friend hadn't a twitch of life left in him. In his... his halves. In this place, his eyes could adjust only minimally to the blackness. The other casks were patches of blacker darkness, which faded to oblivion if he stared back hard enough.
From oblivion, the thing emerged. He thought it was just another of the casks at first, but his ears caught the whisper of movement. The wine cask moved like a bird's shadow. It grew steadily larger as it approached the center of the room. Barely registering each step, his heart slowed to a near crawl. Maybe his heart would just stop, so he could die before being torn apart, too.
Its first deliberate noise was an eerie wheeze. The creature the size of a wine cask doubled over the prone form in the middle of the room. The upper half was rolled. It was sizing him up -- why?
The snuffling continued, then he got his answer when the sickening snap of viscera between teeth broke the silence. In horror, he watched the monstrous silhouette arch toward the ceiling, strands of intestine curling from wolfish jaws.
He prayed the breaking bones would mask the sound of his vomiting a second time.
They'd heard the stories of this crumbling castle. Crowded around the fireplace at his family home, he'd listened in horror while his brothers whispered tales of the cruel prince in the black tower. Beautiful and terrible, he delighted in the anguish of others, strangers and subjects alike. Then came the sorceress, who cursed him so he would be just as hideous outside as within. The atrocities in the village faded as the servants fled from their hideous master, but those brave enough -- or foolish enough-- to step into those darkened halls as they fell into ruin, would find themselves at the mercy of a creature now as wild and powerful as he was bloodthirsty.
Oh, what a fool he was! Greedily hungry for the supposed riches inside, he and his closest chum nudged through the rotted double doors at the entrance. The halls were dark, yawning into echoes of blackness itself. Bolstered by torchlight and stomachs full of ale, they ventured to the darkest corners. Determined to find gold. Determined to overcome childhood fears and foolish provincial superstition. Their laughter kept their spirits high.
Until they reached the wine cellar, and the torch he carried was extinguished by a spray of hot blood from his friend's mutilated midsection. The bones broke, his two halves plummeting to the ground under the strike of a powerful paw. He smelled his guts rip open on the broken stones, followed by the sound of his golden heart and bottomless stomach slapping the ground.
He had sense enough to keep from screaming, though his vomit splashing the floor could've been a wail itself. Mind spinning, he dropped to his knees and backed up fast as he could manage. he hadn't the faintest idea as to where he could hide. He just knew he had to.
His legs were clamped by a low.. low something. Maybe a cask of win. For once, he was thankful for his pitifully thin form, as it let him fit snugly underneath. While he welcomed the security, his fear was amplified tenfold with the addition of claustrophobia in the pitch darkness. His hands pressed against his mouth to muffle his panicked breathing.
Aside from the roaring between his ears, he heard nothing else at first. His friend hadn't a twitch of life left in him. In his... his halves. In this place, his eyes could adjust only minimally to the blackness. The other casks were patches of blacker darkness, which faded to oblivion if he stared back hard enough.
From oblivion, the thing emerged. He thought it was just another of the casks at first, but his ears caught the whisper of movement. The wine cask moved like a bird's shadow. It grew steadily larger as it approached the center of the room. Barely registering each step, his heart slowed to a near crawl. Maybe his heart would just stop, so he could die before being torn apart, too.
Its first deliberate noise was an eerie wheeze. The creature the size of a wine cask doubled over the prone form in the middle of the room. The upper half was rolled. It was sizing him up -- why?
The snuffling continued, then he got his answer when the sickening snap of viscera between teeth broke the silence. In horror, he watched the monstrous silhouette arch toward the ceiling, strands of intestine curling from wolfish jaws.
He prayed the breaking bones would mask the sound of his vomiting a second time.