Alien Dreams
Alien Dreams
My flanks against the stone, my hands curled against my chest, I breathlessly to the pulse of the hundred chambers throughout the odd temple of learning which I was homed within. I breathed slow and quiet - knowing the intimacy of the room that every breath gave me a perfect clarity of where I was, and that nothing had changed long since I had first awoken in this place. My pulse was slow - keeping me just to the northern edge of the line between awareness and the dreaming death.
My flanks rested against stone - and I balanced inside of the silent darkness, my natural ichor dripping from my jaws - staining the stone and letting the faint tingle of a burn dig into the pressed silicon and chalky dust. It would take many centuries for my ichors to burn a hole through the floor of the temple - and while I might have had time to accomplish a task - it would be many, many more to fit my hand through, much less my chitinous frame through.
Time was meaningless and meaningful - for it was as clockwork, when there was a small scrape of stone and fresh meat was shoved through and closed down - leaving me again in the darkness and silence. I let the steaming meat lay where it had been placed - ad did not move from my position - I was not hungry, and a little rot always was good for the digestions. I would burn it off simply resting - the meat would fuel my metabolism, and nothing would be wasted.
There were things to contemplate in the darkness of my cell - and I sought new answers to the same questions that filled me - and made me feel safe in the darkness.
Why did I hunger more for the flesh of my caretakers than what they fed me?
A flesh succulent, soft, sweet - tasting of something fresh, a worthiness that made my blood tingle, and my thighs ache, wanting to leap, and claw, and sever and rip and tear and fill - fulfill - everything. I hungered for the sweet flesh, but did not take it. The sweet taste, and how I would devour the meat - taking bites with such care to savor the blood as it dripped my jaws and across my claws - as I sank my teeth in, tore free cartilage, muscle, and bone, and swallowed it down - like a sacred offering from a lover. How I hungered.
Why did I deny myself the sweetest flesh in favor of flavorless blandishments?
Oh indeed, I wanted the sweeter meat, but ate, after so many passings of the bodies behind the stone door - I would spear the meat suitably chilled and rotted, and devour it aimlessly - take it, tear it, swallow the meat and bone with narry a need to chew - for I would digest anything short of super-pressed carbon. I would eat - and let myself drift the edge of those timeless dreams, remember other places, and never knowing how to remember.
Why did I dream?
I did not know why I dreamt, and this question bothered me just as much - if not more so. I took in a deeper breath to offset the meat I had just swallowed - and relaxed once more into the quiet darkness, where I was alone but for the steady pulse of my blood through my anatomy, annd the thin scrape of another claw upon the wall behind me - a wall covered in more markings than I wanted to admit to - and far more than the age of the hand behind the door when it left me my meal.
I dreamt of the kiss of teeth upon flesh, of the caress of claws through ones bowels. I dreamt of the sacred embrace of a hunter against the throat of his prey, and carried the shivering bliss of fresh meat to the waking world, for it to fade into the ether like so many whispers. My dreams were dark, of stalking and leaping down from great heights, to hurtle myself against my enemies until they were dead, no matter how many brethren were cost in the service to the dark crested queens. The battle was always vicious - and the reward was always the death of our prey and enemies - even was we performed our dances and worship through the breathless gasps of the dying.
I dreamt of her crest - the great arch above and along the back of her skull - that which signified her a queen against we lesser beings. I dreamt of the long crest that adorned her head, flanged edges sharp and higher than even my head. Vicious and sharp and cunning, I dreamt of her in the dark, with the taste of blood and meat helping ease the ache that swam my body.
I dreamt of her crest.
Above, there was a flicker - the gleam of a dim light drew my face towards its source, and I opened my jaws, hissing once at the disturbance - this caught me off guard, but for only a moment. The light was small - just enough to illuminate and dispel my darkness in my silent chambers. Small slits opened at the left side of the back wall - and I could see the face of one of the priests stare backa t me - his attention solid, and focused - unkind as I let him know I held no interest in him - settled and sat as I was.
He spoke. The tongue was familiar, the words strange, but I knew them - if only from hearing them so many times. And just as I knew the chamber well enough that I did not mind the dark, I did not mind his jabbering to me, from behind the clear glass - which had proven resilient to any attempts to shatter and claw the speaker away. I did not mind the voices - I did mind the light, and him for disturbing my thoughts.
"Z-1-3. Good morning." Scratches against stone, denied prey, wastrel of flesh that was better suited to feed my hunger than it was to do whatever it was the creature behind the glass did - I paid little heed, and savored the shadow underneath the stone bunk which served as shelf and shelter, when I once ew fear. I felt a familiar groove with a digit, and felt a moment of comfort. "It is time for verbal testing. Do you understand?"
Of course I understood. It was the same exercise, once per cycle - I could measure my dreams from the routine of his actions. Vocabulary, Physical tests, mental examination, distance, three dreams of nothing. It was evenly spaced, a calm, cool rationale held under that voice. I wanted to escape if only for that reason, but the crack in the do-
The lesson, the test, continued and I listened - I knew better than to be too stubborn - for the discharge would strike me in places I did not enjoy being electrocuted at, and if I was unwilling to try, I would get worse. I was far from broken, and knew better to take my time to ascent or descent a question. I would not speak that language - but I did let them think I understood. It was best, for when I escaped I would teach the speaker the value of silence. The lesson continued.
"That is enough for today, Zee." The voice spoke. I dreaded what would come next - as I stepped forward, into a spot where I placed my claws upon a slotted spot - and I placed my feet down at a secondary grove - and felt the click of steel latch me into place. I retained an unpleasant position and my tail whipped once, before it was laced into a second ring, and waited, as the stone door was drawn open, and figures stepped up behind me - and placed a smooth hand on my lower back. "It is time for examinations."
The fingers stroked, across the spikes on my spine, up the ridge which lay from tail to my neck - and I heard a sharp hiss - an intake of breath and a rich scent of copper that flooded the air. I growled once - and snapped my jaw - my head turning to gaze upon the face of the giver of food - a creature just like the speaker - of smooth flesh and a sweet scent - and I snapped my jaws, sweeping my tail faster. It had been the purpose of the meat-giver to give me food, and today, he - I could scent the heat of a males loins - had the task of examining me. Fingers resumed their touch, even as blood made my teeth click hungrily together.
"Temperature warm, weight is consistent, spines still exceptionally sharp." I had managed to nick his hand several times, and as always, the scent of blood hungered me. The fingers crept down to my flanks and along the crux of the tail - pushing against it. "Your chitin is rather warm today, Zee."
The last was said quiet, and I felt the fingers up along the line of my back, over a shoulder and a shoulder-flange. His traced up a little higher and squeezed against my neck, careful not to cut himself again. The fingers brushed up against the side of my skull and along a hidden slit, where I heard from. The touch was soft, explorative, then drew back as I jerked my head to the side, pushing the hand off. It was never pleasant to be touched in some places. I heard a grunt, and the man continued his examination of my body and health.
The touches continued, at my shoulders, my flanks, my tail root and beneath it - along my torso and belly - feeling the chitin and taking measurements - a measure of my claws and even a look at my teeth - it was hell resisting the urge to take a bite of his hand. My genital slit was prodded, but he knew better than to push in too deep. There had been one whom had decided to touch too friendly, and I had sheathed my tail through his chest. It had been a glorious experience, and I had tasted pain that made me screech. It was worth it, every moment of it.
"You've grown, Zee. Crest, flanges, claws, you've gotten bigger everywhere but your tail. Very nice." There was entirely nothing but honesty to the words of Hand - and it did some to sooth me. Respect and care was a soothing balm to my mood, and I slowed the coil and lash of my tail against its restraint. "Almost a shame that they keep you here, you'd be so beautiful out in the wild, or hunting."
He had no idea.
"That's enough." The voice from behind the glass said - and I jerked, my tail neatly whipping through the air and nearly cleaved the skull of Hand. He was quick to jerk out of the way - which made me a bit more pleased. I did not want to unintentionally disfigure Hands like that. It would have been a waste. "Are the measurements done?"
"Yes, sir." Hands said in reply, his touch leaving my lower back. "Measurements are good, temperature is average at one-oh-two, weight is consistent. Zee is looking as beautiful as ever."
"Excellent." There was the small,f audible click as the speaker was shut off, and the lights dimmed - signaling I was to be left alone in the dark again. It had been several hours - and they were tired. As it dimmed, Hands walked to the side, and touched my crest once, and gave a wistful sigh. I turned my face towards him - and clicked my jaws irritably. I was in range to rip his throat out. I hungered for the rich flavor, but was soothed by his touch, and his prior behavior. His touch drifted back, awe in his breath and min how he shivered before me. It was only proper.
"See you in a few days, Zee." With a wistful sigh, Hand gave my crest a gentle stroke - a wistful breath leaving him. Almost pained, I found him leaving me into my darkness and solitude and let the door close behind him with an audible click and locking of the stone into place. I was left alone, as the bonds unlatched themselves, so that I could again brood and settle against the stone bench, as it had began so it would continue.
In the quiet dark, my flanks against the cold stone, I listened to the darkness. The quiet was pleasing, and there was naught but my slow, raspy breathing to give me sound. In the quiet darkness, I ran my claw across the stone and added another mark across my wall, another mark to signify another week of learning, joined to the many, many others that entertained my dark cavity. The stone gave way after many hours of scratching, a shallow mark that I could feel, beside its many score cousins. I touched each fondly - remembering in the blur of continual memory. I let myself fall into the dream of stone, and each mark was stained with blood.
I drew back from my dreams, and awoke to the chill breeze against my spine - it left me a small shiver and I turned my hand to feel the breeze and its quiet whisper. My fingers brushed along the thin breeze, and I felt its touch cross against claws when I turned my hand to stroke across the small breeze. I let it dance across my claws, and reached out, following it, until my fingers came to its source. The vent, which let the air flow through the temple, and into my chambers. Ordinarily, the breeze was too shallow to notice - up high, between the vent too small to fit even my tail blade. But this was heavy, strong - something disrupted the flow.
I turned, and ran my fingers through the air - and felt against the crack separating me from the world outside and beyond. I gave the breeze another stroke, and ran the length of my claws against the opening and along the crack between door and wall. Pleasantly, I struck my claws through the gap, and wedged the further, the door small, but opening a little bit wider as I pushed my hand thorugh the opening. This made my teeth gleam as I smiled.
I slid through the small opening, and my claws made a soft click upon the stone, and then upon something a little softer, and a little smoother. I gave a growl, and slid my claws across the wall, the stone becoming a smooth tile, lacquered and waxed to a sheen. My claws slid across the waxed floor with surprising ease, and I let the rhythm of claws clicking be my herald - relishing the thoughts of this hunt. I had many hungers to fill tonight.
I lunged into the hall, the lights above gleaming across my black hide, and I leapt up, my claws digging into door across from me - and I tore down, feeling the plastic shatter under my touch. I gripped and ravaged the door, bursting forward with a quick ram against my shoulder and neck, before it shattered out - and let me skitter through its tatters. I leapt upon the startled figure of one of the humans, and I tore my teeth into the back of his shoulder, devouring the succulent flesh, and tasting the rich crimson that drained across my snout. I growled hungrily, snapping the bone and slamming my tail into the lower back of my victim. A second ran, and I gave him a few moments to run, before chasing after.
A cacophony of alarms was a herald of their death, and I leapt upon the running man, my body slamming heavily upon his back, and dug my claws into the skull, ripping and tearing down, eviscerating and ripping flesh with a lustful growl. I savored this dance, and again, bit into the throat, drinking down the crimson ambrosia. I ripped and tore, and lunged again down the hall, my claws gripping onto the wall, and then higher - I ascending up and gripping onto the ceiling - something that felt more natural. My claws tore through lights, and shattered upon contact. Lights flickered, and the darkness that ensued was blissful.
I lunged, skittered, and crept through the long hall - my tail slamming into control pads, shattering them as I passed. A few opened, others shorted out - neither mattered, because the confusion would add to my assault. I felt the unity of those few whom were like I crept out behind me - and they followed my lead, ignoring the others whom were not like us. They had their use, and it was not to sharpen claws.
The door nearby opened with a ramming of my body against the wall, and hissed again - feeling the plastic groan, crack, and shatter against the forceful weight of my body. It groaned and buckled after a third ram of my body, and my brethren followed me. Fanning left and right, down different halls, I continued straight - barreling forward as screams and the scent of blood permeated the building. Nirvana.
"Evacuate and seal, Evacuate and seal, this is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill"
Voice. The Voice. The taunter, giver of pain, of humiliation, who did naught but challenge me to do tricks for petty amusement, the speaker who distorted my darkness. As I surged through the halls, I felt the black urge crawl across me, and I hunted, stalked, leaving lesser prey to run from me - scattering like rats before a predator. I surged quicker, and felt another door break beneath my assault - leading me into a larger chamber. Those beyond were running for exits, scurrying like the prey they were. I leapt - hunting for the voice, for the one who taunted. He was not amongst them, and I soothed my rage with further claw-swipes.
Blood splashed the ground and across my carapace, giving me a pleasant feeling deep in my loins - a feeling that tingled, a promise that this was how things were meant to be. I let the euphoric feeling guide me, sending me into the further massed figures who streamed for the exit, only to be caught, torn, and ripped apart. I joined the fray in passing, only so long as I could get past the screaming bags of flesh. My prey was near, and I had to have it, even if it was the only thing I had left.
"Zee?"
The voice was scared - panicked, rightfully so. My attention turned towards the sound that echoed over the din of screams - to a figure that I had long sought, but for reasons beyond bloodshed and a torn throat. I approached, slowly, my brethren avoiding us, since it was my prey, and mine alone. They understood - and I did not begrudge them for their kills in turn. No, this was important, this who I approached, who smelled of piss and fear and wonder. I crept closer,
"No, Zee..." Fearful. Fearful, and filled with awe, even as his knees gave way, and his face paled with fear. He shivered, and then stilled with my claw touching, scraping down his cheek. His cheek grew wet - and I ran my fingertip across his cheek. My claw gleamed, glistened, touched with blood and pain. I ran the tip of the claw down along his cheek, and opened the flesh, leaving a mark from corner of his eye, to the corner of his jaw. It must have hurt him terribly. I left the claw against the bone of his jaw, and leaned forward.
"Please, Zee... don't kill me..."
I drew the claw through the fat of his cheek, and curved it outward, down to the edge of his throat. So easy to leave a mark of death and pain, so easy it would be to leave him a corpse. But his hand raised, touching my face, the line of jaw and mouth. He touched where my teeth were, and in his moments of pain, one eye blinded with blood, he still showed the reverence and curiosity, with death before him. I could accept that.
And so I drew my claw away and turned, brushing past him - leaving him with my mark upon his face. I think that is when he drew in fear and crumpled to the floor with a thud. I paused, and wrapped my tail around his shoulder, and dragged the weight of the human behind me, to push him out of the way. Though my mark was upon his face, my brethren might be rambunctious in their blood revelry - it was best to leave them be. Out of the way, a place dark and hidden, I let him rest. I dissuaded one from following with a slash of my claws across its face - and it understood. Mine.
I crouched near Hands, and contemplated his existence while cleaning his blood off my claw with a brush against my inner jaws. He tasted as sweet as I imagined, and I felt content. I had my will performed - and others scoured the building for more life. It was good, very good. I rested from my hunt and assault, and slid into the dreams that haunted me, and no longer felt as troubling. Perhaps it was that I slept with prey beside me. Perhaps, it was that I would find my goal within the building. Perhaps, best, it was the scent of crimson and ichors that lulled me into contentment.
I did not sleep, but joined the dreams.
He stirred, and it drew me from the voiceless songs. He curled up into a ball, his body wracked with sweat and pain - and shuddered at the click of my talons. He was afraid, and rightfully so - but had I wanted him dead, his throat would pulse its crimson down my claws. His attention was on me - the smell of prey mingling with the smell of, perhaps, the only entity not of the brood that had shown even a lick of worship. This pleased me - and I let my tail scrape across his cheek - the blade cutting, but nothing more than flesh.
I turned my hand down and gripped his face - claw tips stinging, and drew him forward, his head up. My own came close - my teeth sharp and bitter with the scent of half-digested meat. He shuddered, and I drew in his taste. He was sweet, sweet as I remembered it being. A bitter-sharp scent filled the air - flowing up from his groin. I hissed, and let him go. He was mine. Mine alone.
And always would be.