Practice for my English exam. Short one-shot that doesn't make any sense. Experimenting with present-tense.
Ah, this is probably the goriest thing I've ever written. =P
Summary: AU: She survives the encounter with the little brat and goes into the mansion to seek her revenge. Little does she know, she meets an unexpected opponent.
The dark hallway seems never-ending.
As she runs through it, the walls almost seeming to close in on her, the only thing she thinks of is how red the carpet seems. Like blood. It looks like it's soaked in blood.
A grand staircase lies before her; its rails gleam golden and bright, even in the dim lighting. She moves to climb up it when a sound alerts her to a foreign presence.
She looks, almost fearful, at the edge of the darkness. The meager source of light she holds in her hand is not sufficient; by the time she sees the creature, it's too late.
The creature comes forward. It's in the shape of a man, but not a man at the same time. It's short and beef, and has red lines connecting to red spots all over its body. Its eyes are blank and white. Its mouth is open wide, and a river of drool is pouring from it. The ever-present oroborous tattoo that is supposed to there on its tongue is missing.
She recognizes it, of course. That is Gluttony – or what's supposed to be Gluttony, anyway. There's something off about it – him.
He steps forward even more. He looks at her like she's something to eat – he's never looked at her like that, ever. Involuntarily, fear grips her.
Gluttony makes a guttural sound in his throat. Then, in a flash, he jumps forward and seizes her.
Blood stains the walls.
Later, when the creature is done with its meal, it looks at its hands. Confusion overpowers it for a moment – but that's insane; it doesn't have emotions.
Suddenly, a different feeling overcomes it; it makes its head hurt. It keels over.
The emotion is unrecognizable to it. But it feels something akin to despair, only stronger – though the creature cannot discern it.
It continues to look at its hands.
Blood-stained hands.
It mutters a single word – one full of childish longing. And pure regret.
"Lust."
Then the monster is back, and it continues on its rampage.