Scrawls on an Animal Hide

Remember it? Shadow. Pain. Ground falling away. Your own dangling legs kicking in air. Twisting to look back, only to see the magnificent dark winged beast. Claws in flesh. Scream, we did. A guttural cry. You were sure in those moments you were meat for the chew.

Yet here we are. High on a rocky outcrop. Beast nearby. Wings resting. Red eyes watching.

No. Your body is not intact. Hair gone. Hoofs shredded to five. Do you feel the burning? That is me. The heat inside you that scrawls this note on the animal hide that fell away from our flesh as we were reborn.

I write this because I cannot yet picture my own words in my mind. I see only pictures. Waves crashing below. Dark night. The demon watching us. He’s waiting patiently for you to leave your body to me, his invited guest. I can write with the tip of a finger nail (that’s the part I’ll wiggle next) because we burn so hot we smolder. Do you feel the hot pain? You dislike it, don't you? Agony. Too much to tolerate. You can die now. Just will it. Leave my new body to me!

Not yet?

You want me to write you a command to run, as fast as your four legs can carry us? No, no. As I mentioned, your hooves have been flayed. Your legs bent all wrong. If I order you to run you will flail and fall. Think. What do you really want? Yes. You want to crawl to the beast. To wrap your arms (yes these) around him. Crawl to the beast. Now! Or die and leave my desires just to me.

No? Stubborn.

Look at your body. Can’t you see yourself for what you are? You are like the ones that cut the neck of your mate, stripped her skin, cooked her flesh. Tasty she was, I am sure. Do you want to live in such a body? Nothing recognizable except your beard. (I’ll stroke it.) How horrible, isn’t it? Why remain in such a state? Will yourself to die!

One last task, you say? A throat? A skinning? A feast? Yes, I see an image in our mind, so clear. The one that made your mate meat for the chew? You wish me to feed this human to our master? Yes. I promise your last request. Now be gone. Die dammit! Willfully! Yes, I will see to the task. Damn, you sacrificial goats have become much too demanding these days, but a promise is a promise. Yes. Yes. Ah, that’s better. Feels good to stretch.

Now, first some personal torment. Later the feast. Perhaps by then I'll be hungry myself, and I will join our master for a nibble.


(Al Bogdan)