:O Shock horror, I've written something.
Yes, I've actually written something and something quite long :O Title: Feral Flux. Word Count: 1,146. Chapter: 1/? Summary: '''This thing was lost, beyond repair, tormented with suffering'... The thing, is a human, treated like a discarded beast. Beaten, unwanted, lost and suffering. It seems it will never end. What will happen to this poor human, and will he ever get out alive? A/N: EDIT: I'm going to continue this over a few chapters now I've got a lot of ideas. :)
The beast let out a sharp yelp of pure agony and inched away, into a corner; that was invitingly dark, from the now pulled apart pieces of cloth that resembled curtains, revealing a sharpened slither of light, slicing through a gap in the slabs of damp, dingy wood, used to cover up the hole that was previously known to be a window. The beast had to turn its filthy face from such an excruciating shard of pain, knowing well enough that it stared deep into his soul, judging him against his free will. Not that he even had free will anymore. The burning flame of light burned when it grabbed him in its hellish grip. A sudden, harsh kick to the ribs tore his scorching eyes away from the sweltering sun slither that tormented him viciously.
“Up.” As usual, the beast didn’t move nor react to the sharp tone being forced upon him. “I said get up!! You pathetic, worthless waste of a life!!”
Another sharp kick to the ribs. A yank of the hair. Yet again the beast showed no movement, apart from the near invisible rising of its chest. Was it afraid? Of what; it’s master or the light? Was it dying; or already dead? Was it even real? It must’ve been because this master was interacting with it. Or was the master a figment of an imagination too? If so, whose? Whose sick, twisted mind was this? Was this reality; or simply just an everlasting nightmare? Who was it? Why was it here? How does one escape such circumstances? Some questions of life are kept away for a reason.
“You’re a waste of a life! Are you even listening?!”
The beast felt a warm drop slap its cheek, startling it further into its now so precious corner, following another drop, and another. At first it believed it to be tears, but its own tears were too familiar of a texture to be this substance. Spit. It glanced up at the overcastting shadow that not only was over the beast, but over its life, taking control of every minor detail; driving it further into insanity. The shadow belonged to the beast’s master, whom always lost control of the ‘keeping saliva in own mouth’ impulse when he was mad, which was more often than not. The master’s vein thumped dangerously, a ticking bomb in itself; just waiting to burst in a detonation of fury and dark brutally, black blood.
“I saw you flinch there, I caught you moving! Do you really think I’m that stupid?! Do you?!”
A pair of fists began to curl, like a snake, and just like such it would soon inflict pain upon its watching victim, sending an almighty explosion of pain throughout the body. The beast shut its eyes, letting the pain wash over him as it had many a time before, the beast lay there, taking its original, unmoving position. Playing dead; the only survival tactic it knew. It only took a few more mind-numbingly agonising blows before the beast heard its master’s grunt of impatient surrender; he wasn’t going to waste his time with this... mongrel. He’d given in. For now. He’d be back, given enough time. Not that time mattered to the beast, after all.
Once the heavy sounds of its master’s feet stomping, dominantly away had completely been stolen within the mysteries of the air, the beast paused, to gain back the air that had just been knocked out of its weak body, and slowly got to its feet, unsteady and waited to gain full balance before progressing further. The beast edged its way slowly over to the cracked, shiny object that hung lopsided on the wall. A mirror. The beast wiped some of the clumped muck that had begun to gather, like an infectious disease, upon the once shiny surface and stared at what greeted it. Itself. It was a reflection; it was looking in a mirror. It stared hard, almost hard enough to shatter the cracks of the mirror even more, not recognizing the replica that gawked back. The beast was filthy, dark matted hair, ivory skin; but not a pretty, smooth ivory as such of an elephant’s tusk, but a stained grey-ish ivory, the effects of withdrawing from the outside world and the blessings of nutrients that Mother Nature nurtured her children with. However this beast was abandoned by not only its own parents but also the parent of life. The skin of ivory had lacerations decorating it with a unique pattern, ruby red blood still seeped and stained, beautifully unattractive. The beast’s nose was evidently broken, not for the first time either, and had been for such an unknown long time, it dared not to touch it though; knowing the pain it would cause. Below the broken nose were cracked, crusted, split lips; that were once rushed with energy and smoothness, frozen in a sad smile of pain. Above them, and the nose, was a pair of eyes that stared cold, right through souls, that were filled with such anguish, confusion and lost hope; anyone who dared to look at the beast would be able to tell there was something not quite right. Its eyes were those of a stranger. This thing was lost, beyond repair, tormented with suffering whatever you wanted to describe it by; to itself it felt like nothing. Hell, it didn’t even know if it was alive or not. The eyes that stared back couldn’t be that of the beast’s. Its eyes tore away from those in the reflection and glanced down at the chest, or more precisely the sharp, apparent bones of its ribs jutting out hideously. Glancing down further it’s even more obvious pelvis bones sticking out awkwardly. The beast was just a skeleton with a thin, pathetic film of skin that hardly did anything to protect it and crumpled muscles. The nose, the lips, the ivory skin, the claw like bones protruding from the arm, or its hideously skeletal frame could not be those of the beast’s. But it knew that it was staring at itself, nonetheless. And that scared it more than anything else in the world.
It reached up and touched a leathery, thick material that stretched around its neck that almost seemed to merge in with the dirt and grime surrounding it. Upon closer inspection, it noticed a round, chipped metal object hanging from it. Shuffling closer to the mirror, the beast stared, reading 4 letters, scratched messily into the metal. J. E. F. F.
At least the beast now knew who it was, and his purpose; it was being kept as an abused pet. A beast in a non-animal body. It’s a human being, like you or me.
Now he just wanted to know why; and how to escape. He had to find out now if he had any chance of survival.