Thu Mar 20, 2003 3:15 am
Victory. It had learned the sweet taste of winning. And it liked it.
Control. It had learned the beauty of inspiring fear in another living thing. And it liked that, even more.
Hatred. It had learned hatred. It did not like hatred. It burned deep inside its body, a smoldering flame that threatened to consume all that the secret, quiet creature was. But at the same time, it relished the flame. It learned to feed on it, driving itself forward.
Overhead, silver moonlight was cut into ribbons by the gnarled fingers of the intermingling branches. And bit by bit, it poked its way through flesh. A rabbit, this one, squealing in pain as its abdomen was less-than-surgically opened. How many others? Rabbits lay strewn all about. As well as a deer, several stolen pigs, some birds poor enough to stray into earshot of the creature's alluring melody. Any animal the creature could wrestle to the ground without too much effort. It had become fascinated with the way a body worked inside.
It poked and prodded about until the poor lagomorph could stand no more, and wheezed its final breath. It frowned, grasping the creature about the neck and heaving it aside.
Death. It had learned the finality of life. It did not like it. And it was afraid of it. It was more terrifying, even, than pain.
The creature stood, stretching its skinny arms. It had added perhaps another two inches, recently. It was growing taller. And stronger. It fell back into a low crouch, knuckles brushing the ground in a fashion neanderthal. The masked creature turned its gaze aside, looking now for more prey to fulfill its curiousity.
This turned it, soon, to running. As very little would come near the spot where it had been learning, already beginning to stink of unnatural death. It was a long time running, bounding through trees and under bushes, before it was halted.
Someone was screaming bloody murder. The creature's eyes went wide, and turned all about madly, rings of green-yellow moving wildly over the black sea. Not long before it settled on the house. It was like the other building, the one it did not know was called the Broken Dagger. But smaller. And less... nice. It did not understand 'well-maintained', either. It pounced, regardless, gleefully from the trees, hitting the wall softly, scuttling to the roof. Startled, again, by the screaming that had drawn it in the first place.
It slunk down the roof, coming up sideways on a window, tentatively peeking inside. A woman lay under blankets, her stomach engorged. Another woman before her, yelling words that the creature did not know. It repeated one, softly to itself. 'Push, push'. It liked that. It seemed strong, but gentle. Other people scattered all about inside, running here and there, with blankets, with hot water, all going quite out of their minds as it seemed to the creature.
Then, after some time of watching this mad scenario, it heard it. Something that made its eyes go wide. A shrill cry that pierced it all, even the agonized howl of the woman. And soon, under the gaze of fascinated, green-yellow eyes, it was lifted, cradled. A tiny... person. It beat its fists impotently, crying for the loss of the only place it knew, forced to draw air for the first time ever. The creature was baffled. A tiny person... had come out of another person. For the first time, it pondered origins. Its own origins, too, skimmed over the outer shell of its thoughts.
It took note, then, of a person who was also small, seeing this phenomenon of shortness in a new light. A nine-year-old boy, although that was completely unbeknownst to the creature, whose understanding of time was limited to when the sun rises and falls. And with really no concept of gender. But it was a small _person_. And... there were big people.
It struck the creature then, that like itself, the people _grew_. This horrified it. They made new people, and then grew them, forever perpetuating and army of oppressors who would bring it nothing but pain and hatred.
Birth. It had learned the cycle of life. And it hated it.
Growth. It had learned, recently, that it could teach its body to grow in new ways. It liked that. It had also learned that its enemies, the people, also grew. It hated that.
The creature shook with a sort of fury. It seemed to be cheating, what it saw here. In this quiet war, with nearly all beings against this one, it had not been informed of the rules. That it could never win, because even if it did take to falling the people, to _killing them...
Kill. It had learned to _kill_. It had learned that it could INFLICT death. That comforted it...
...they could always create more. Grow them, teach them to kill the creature. It considered breaking into this little house, and killing the new soldier before it could grow and hurt the secret. But, wary of the chance that the others inside may sport metal fangs or three-point-painsticks, or any other assortment of hurt, it slunk to the grass, creeping into shadows.
It had much to consider, now. Much to plan, to plot, to learn, to do. Because it would not live in suffering forever. It refused.
It would inflict this suffering it had been taught on all, before it let itself live another day in agony...