OMG THERE IS SO MUCH BOLD(NESS) IN THIS FLASHBACK.
Enjoy. I dug writing this so much.
Promises Not Made are Promises Never Kept
Flashback Twenty-Two – Beast
There were only shadows, shapes, images. It smelled something alive and breathing (could hear panicked breaths, quick heartbeats) and absolutely delicious and it felt its claws elongate in glee. They were all prey; it knew. It was superior, powerful, and insurmountable. No other creature could match it, and pride and hunger simultaneously swelled within its bowels.
And those poor fools. What could they do… but burn?
Flickers of images in a vision plagued by red and black; everything was monochrome, with splashes of red and tiny bright lights that glimmered. Everything was hazy, and it jerked its head back and forth, its brain reading the images choppily and with some delay. Flashes of existence met its mind, but for the most part its world was ultimately black. Sight was practically useless, and the frantic beating of tiny hearts filled its ears to the point where it couldn't make out anything else. All it could do was feel; feel the fear and feel the fear fuel its own ravenous ferocity.
It wanted to kill. It wanted to eat. It wanted to oppress the weak and devour the strong, to ravage those that rebelled against it and shred those that ran. It desired these things more than anything else it had ever remembered feeling before, and it would destroy everything in its path to satisfy them. It knew this, without words.
Rising on all fours, it stumbled sideways on shaky legs, swinging its great head and opening its maw wide in an aching bellow.
If there was screaming, it went unheard. Suddenly there was a frenzy of sporadic, unnatural movements as it chased after what it wanted and hot liquid sprayed into its eyes and nose as it lashed out and clamped down, hearing one of the hearts – like a panicked little animal – die in its ears as many more snaps and crunches followed.
The feelings were too intense. The feeling of victory and bloodlust and rage and glee had it quivering uselessly for a moment, awkwardly backpedaling as it sought to regain some semblance of control.
Then, instinctively, it stopped fighting the rush. Stilling its entire body, the beast relaxed and allowed the emotions to completely overwhelm it, riding the wave and letting it rampage throughout its body.
Suddenly everything became crystal clear as its eyes snapped open. Still in only shades of red and grey, it saw tiny creatures on two legs wearing strange clothing shouting in a strange tongue at it, and the feeling of relish it would receive once it ripped them to shreds was too good to resist.
Feelings were not meant to be fought. It knew that now. It snapped its massive jaw outwards, catching one little animal within its teeth as their attacks bounced off its eerie, shifting flesh. The screams brought glee to its heart, and eagerly it jerked its head from side to side, shredding the creature like a rag doll. As it did so, it reached out with its claws, and the screaming that it suddenly heard and understood as something warm and comforting covered its body made its heart swell with joy.
There were no thoughts. Only feelings, only images. The more it felt, the more it craved, and the more violent it became as the warmth it consumed foamed in its mouth. Nothing mattered except fulfilling its desires, and it knew it couldn't bear to stop now – when it felt so wonderfully, deliciously, horribly good-
Wait. What was this? There was only one heartbeat left in the room now, and as it turned its angry red gaze upon it and opened its mouth, it found itself hesitating for some reason. Stopping, the angry trap quietly fell shut. Warm goodness dripped down its skin and from its lips, and it ached for more destruction, and yet…
This tiny little creature was unconscious on the floor, completely ready and ripe for the ripping, and yet the beast found itself pausing in its mission to slaughter. Confused, it simply gazed down at the little being intently, wondering what to do next.
"It's lovely, isn't it?"
Something quiet broke through the haze and buzz of what could be called its hearing, and it turned its head to look, not understanding what it had heard but seeking to destroy the source anyway.
Fire burned bright in its eyes when it did so, and it whimpered, turning its face away and hiding its eyes. Nothing had ever seared its senses so, and like an animal it shied away.
"This is what happens when you feel too much," the little ball of fire near its feet continued, making it slink away. If it had to go somewhere else to gratify its cravings, it would do so. There was nothing else that interested it here. And yet it couldn't find a way out. Angrily, it paced around in a circle, stepping heavily upon the mutilated bodies beneath it, and looked around. "Feelings control you, and thought flees from you. All that exists is existence. Perhaps this is how you were truly meant to be."
Irritation clawed at the beast's eyes, and it rubbed its muzzle against the floor – in the warmth that smelled so good – in exasperation, unable to escape the tiny ball of fire and unable to find a way out.
"You must control this. Become familiar with the way you are now and do not fear it. Come to terms with it. Everyone becomes a monster when their feelings turn too great."
Something in that voice that it couldn't understand bade the beast turn its head in the direction of the little ball of flame, closing its eyes against the bright white burn that filled its vision but remaining facing the object. The fire made its skin tingle almost pleasantly, and though it hurt to look upon the little sphere of light was almost comforting in its own quiet thirst for violence. In it, the brute almost found a kindred spirit.
"Today, the beast within you has risen."
There was a tiny circle of dry warmth on its snout as its eyes remained closed, head bowed.
"And now, like all things great, the beast must fall."
Everything went cold, cold, cold, and the creature abruptly felt itself being sucked back into its own chest, its own skin crawling inwards as the talons and fangs receded. It couldn't catch a handhold; it couldn't beg to save itself. With a echoing, sorrowful howl, it felt itself thrust back into its chilly, cramped prison of darkness where only stone, iron, and emptiness welcomed it.
End Flashback Twenty-Two – Beast
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Much love,
DDB
