Whispers on the Wind Part 2
Whispers on the wind fall on a lonely Hellhounds ears.
A faint whisper plays across the breeze. "Xavier" The hellhound's eyes slowly open, crusted shut from a long sleep. His eyes flutter for a moment in the early morning sun. After a few moments he groans with stiff muscles as he sits up. He looks around bewildered at the gentle blanket of early spring snow covering him and the ground around him. He ganders around for awhile wondering how long he lay asleep in the grass.
The whisper on the breeze blows through his ears once more and he looks around to see nobody around. He grumbles with achey joints and muscles once more as he raises to his feet. His head foggy and empty along side a hollowness in his chest. He peers down at his matted and unkempt fur, muddy and tousled with who knows how long of rain, wind, and lack of bathing. He searches around once more for the source of the whisper in the wind, but finding himself standing completely alone in the yard.
He saunters into the house, finding the air stale, cold, and dusty. Making his way to his bathroom he steps into the shower and starts the hot steamy water. His vision lazily comes in and out of focus as he watches the dirt swirl in the water and down the drain. Claws slowly work out the mats in his fur but his brain is absent in the process. Just fog and emptiness in his mind.
As his hands feel no more tangles and the water running clear, his autopilot deems himself clean and he steps out of the shower. Toe claws click on the hallway floor echoing through the empty house as he makes his way to the kitchen. Nose wrinkles in disgust as the smell of mold and putrefaction assaults his nostrils. Black rotten fruit lay on the counter. He opens the refrigerator door to a further assault of stench. More rotten food lay decaying inside. "How long had I lay sleeping outside?"
The emptiness in his stomach is outweighed by the emptiness in his mind, heart, and soul. Grabbing his phone he flops his weight down on the living room sofa. With slight surprise he gazes at the date on his phone. "Five months? I was asleep for five months?" His clawed digits continue to slide and tap across the phone's screen. Eyes and mouth start to slump in sorrow. "And as expected, nobody seems to have missed me or seem concerned of my absence."
He taps across social media apps a little while longer, and with a sigh and watering eyes he sets the phone down on the coffee table.
"There is nobody to care if I disappear any longer, so why stay here anymore?" His face drains of life and into a stoic emptiness. His right hand lays upon his left wrist for a moment, then with a flex of the claws, gouges deeply into the flesh of his wrist. Blood spurts and flows from the wound. Like acid, the blood melts and sets aflame the upholstery of the sofa and the carpet beneath. Laying back his left arm lulls to floor blood flowing profusely. "Fire purifies fffffhhhhhh" with a gentle sigh of fleeting life, the exhale magically fans the fire into a roar around him. The sounds of crackling fire muffled and the vision of bright flames blackening. The flames quickly spread and engulf the once lavish and lively mansion.
With a sudden thrash and gasp of air the hellhound flails to life in a river of flowing fire. He spits and thrashes for a moment and pulls his large muscular body from the river of magma. He flops on his back and spits out the remainder of the magma from his lungs. The screams of condemned souls slowly filter through his ears. He smiles and chuckles dryly and sarcastically. "There truly is no rest for the wicked". The crazed sarcastic giggling intensifies with pained tears welling up in the forlorn hellhound's eyes.