It was slightly unsettling for Gaara. He no longer contradicted himself. When he closed his eyes he didn't see the violent, disturbing images that his demon used to show him. The bitter, aching need to kill was silenced and ever so slowly, day by day, he felt more like a normal person, no longer having to worry about hurting anybody uncontrollably. Part of him did miss having so much power over people. The way their faces revealed so much fear was intoxicating. The way they screamed so loud it resonated through out his body. The way he could wrap sand around their feet and ankles, preventing them from ever escaping him. The look of complete terror when he didn't stop at that but ever so slowly inched the sand upwards to their knees, to their hips, to their neck. He could feel them wriggling and squirming inside the sand as they begged for mercy. He missed the sounds of the bones and the flesh and the organs imploding in their exciting cracking and squishing and popping. He missed how it rained blood as he released the contorted, misshapen body, the limbs twisted, bones jetting out, the engraved panic-stricken demeanour etched into their faces. But that was the past now. Shukaku was gone. People cared for him and he cared for people. He was the Kazekage now. He was Gaara.
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A/N: Welcome to my mind. Did you enjoy your brief stay?
I hope you liked this short, umm, thing. Is it called a dabble? Well what ever it is I wrote this a while ago, thought it wasn't complete crap and here it is today, being read by hardly anyone...