FSE

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Woe to the things that must face upon me, for I am the powerful and royal of all hircines. I destroy that which tread lost in the mountains, and that which is so very unfortunate as to fall into my hand. I am the embodiment of greed and pride, but no more so than it is of true, unbridled wrath. I am apex amongst apex predators, and I am death come with two eyes of garnet and sapphire.

To my throne room has been brought a disgustingly frail, gaunt monster, with such skeletal facial features. Its left leg caught in a bear trap, and a pool of blood upon the carpet, as it lay, tearing up its calf as it continues to attempt escape. It gasps and claws at metal with such long and twisted hands, and it seems caught in complete disarray, foolishly and naïvely ignoring and unaware of the grandiosity that is basking before my image. Such is fitting such a bleak, fragile thing, massive antlers swinging side to side and banging on the floor. It must have been drumming the song of agony for hours with ceaseless rest.

I approach, my stomping hooves a taiko reaching crescendo. It turns to me, and begins attempting to gnaw its own leg off, the idiotic desperate thing. I care for any of its struggles naught, it will have no worries once I am done with it. It lunges with its other leg and claws my thighs, and its nails break, its knuckles bruise. So defiant, this cervine bedlamite.

A solid foot comes down on its ankle, and I grab an antler. I hear frantic wheezing from beneath me. I pull. Sinew pops. My wrist is punched repetitively, 'til it cease. A squirming sanguine pool splashes patterns across all. A tibia is flailing, desperate to be made whole. I raise my arm and end the ceaseless clattering, and bring it to my teeth.

I bite upon antler, until it dent, crack, and shatter, a tine falling into the chasmic void of me inside. It becomes partly me, I feel the horror it feels, all the agony its existence is in perpetuity as a gruesome creature. An ominous living thing retched up by nature, that does nothing but search in its infinite avarice for flesh. A pitiful thing. No pride, no dreams, simply the breathing aneurysm of God. Something one in my stance would be merely obligated to end.

Into the crown, the end of the rack upon its skull, mine own teeth scraping and breaking in my pursuit of the sweetest delights. Nothing is more exhilarating than beginning to hear the begging cries for peace: for finality in death. For I now understand it, and I bear witness to the rambling and yelling of the most desperate, depressed opera. Claw comes to its jaw and ceases the inane chatter. Given the opportunity of such leverage, I just can't help myself. Blood drips down the side of its skull, pooling in its eyes. The bone stiletto in my hand suddenly into its trachea. Scream now! I will never hear the screams of a sick monster, lest they bring down my own poor mood. I will be mentally burdened never, I will merely have a ragdoll to toy with, to abuse.

I bring its whole shaking, tensed up arm to my maw and turn my head swiftly. Carmine paints the whole floor, it paints constellations on the ceiling and walls, and swaying pine trees that smell of iron. I hear no screaming, I hear no cries of no consent, of begging for no more, and I am at peace. I will kill an unthinking animal that cannot resist, and cannot beg for mercy. I release the doll made of fur and hear a thump. I, too, fall. I am standing perfectly upright, on four limbs. My hot breath fills the air with the delicious scent of burning hair, burning skin, rendering fat--the smell of vomit washes over.

The cervid thing has heaved up what it ate before it found itself worshipping me. My face is already on its belly, my nose and tongue lolled out. I lick, and then I feast upon upchuck. I taste the forest floor. I taste rotten carrion, with maggots still dancing on my tongue, I crush them on the roof of my mouth, I swallow. I eat. I eat. I eat. I eat. I eat. I eat. I eat. I eat. I eat. I eat. I eat. I eat. I eat. I eat. I eat I eat. I eat. I lose myself in the specters of the flesh I gorge, and I am them.

I am the worms burrowing into the rotten apples, holes and slime dancing through, excreting dirt. I am moth larvae squirming and wriggling, surrounded by little eggs; I am a cocoon, I have wings. I am the anorexic beast, gagging as it tastes the fruits of wriggly bugs, and chomps upon its own tongue in the ritual of gourmandizing. I am a little girl, crying as she is mauled to death by an antlered creature so much bigger and sharper. My intestines are strewn across a hiking trail. A chalky snout buries itself into my wormy, wriggling and slithering intestines, full of eggs. I die. I die. My antlers are snapped off by a wicked furry thing. I lie dying.

I will continue the cycle of meat, for once we all began from a single cell, we kept eating each other. The feeding cycle is one continuous prolonged cannibalism, one continuous incest is the breeding cycle. Everything is one and I am everything, I will eat all and be the only left, 'til I have no one to eat but myself. I will eat my horns. I will eat my nails, my fingers. I will pull all my eyes out of their sockets and devour upon them as they leak and spray juice across my engorged body. I am the apex of all things and the heat death of the universe. I am entropy incarnate as I feel my tail beg for mercy, slashed up slowly by my endless gut. I will pull out my teeth and chew them into a gummy paste of bone, blood, and spit. I will run out of teeth and will swallow them whole, feeling the root rip along my esophagus, spraying blood into my stomach to quench my perpetual thirst. I will eat my intestines. I will eat the contents of my intestines. I will eat everything that has ever left my intestines. I will feast upon the soil I leave in my wriggling tunneling wake and I will eat the bloated corpses and trees as I spread my spores. The world is mine for the taking, and all I feel is hunger. I eat.

I am convulsing in a puddle of blood. My stomach is gorged to the point of my abdomen's skin beginning to ripe wide awake, to reveal my intestines stuffed with an infinitesimal fraction of the universe. I lick the floor; I lick the walls. I cannot walk on my limbs, for my belly would drag and smear globules of yellow fat along the floor--whereupon I would be forced to double around and swallow. I simply twist and wiggle my enormous body to bring my tongue across the blood-smeared paintings, red walls, and curtains stained the color of blazing lust.

I hibernate.

I wake up my normal self, eyes always a little wider, stomach always more impatient, and searching for the greatest delicacies. I will dig up graves and eat the former kings, the worms feasting upon them and the roots in their skulls, and devour their memories and what they ate. For I am the most ghoulish, wicked, horned thing. I am the embodiment of greed and pride, but unmatched in my gluttony. I wake up to a new trapped monster in the throne room. It is a human, with such long brown hair, and innocent freckles. Its leg is caught in a bear trap.