Rough Draft Titled "Demon of Black Bear Peak"
click here for first excerpt posted from rough draft...
It smelled a change in the air. Could taste it on the cold wind. Felt the vibrations ripple through the water smoke that It had learned to appreciate for it’s advantage’s. For all the organic, putrid odors this place had the water smoke was the least irritating to Its constantly irritated senses. It groaned with familiar recognition as Its glycerin textured membranes collected the necessary information It needed. It felt hunger and pain and rage and now It felt the life force vibrating on the thick musky air calling to feed. It knew that the red liquid that flowed from the foul talking things slowed the pain and eased the hunger the most. It also knew that the fiery metallic tasting liquid from the crawling things held some value as well, not as much as the talking things. The talking things seemed to pitch with living and shining noise filling every revolting fiber of this bright and burning world that caused It pain. Every molecule here ripped at Its very existence. This place was a great burning frequency of blasphemy to the endless and space-less darkness from which It was formed. It still felt the starving and tortured remnants of the true darkness crawling within the oozing prison of mass It was forced to wear in this realm.
It moved effortlessly down the mountain side into the smaller hills where the vibrations were stronger. Occasionally it rested upon a branch taking a thicker more solid appearance. It hated the way it felt forcing Its parts to close tighter and form painful dimensions. Mass was necessary in this place. It had to take shape so It could taste and smell the molecules needed to learn this place and to feed. This world was the reason It felt such pain and rage, and the repulsive smell. It only new the great continuity of the void and then somehow It came to be here in the brilliant, noisy organic filth.
When It finally reached the thing that had called Its hunger the creature had no time to react. In the dark night filled with the water smoke It formed the long dagger like fingers, needed for hunting, ripping the flesh and snatching the now limp corpse up into needle sharp teeth, forming in the twisted and distorted mouth of death. Only after It tasted the hot red fluid from the smelly creature with myriad vile fibers extending from the fleshy mass did It understand this things purpose. The dead thing that It fed on had belonged to one of the talking things. Pet was the word it gathered from the fluid. It could smell the odors belonging to the master of this dead creature. It tried to call forth more words that seemed to dance in the liquid of this beast but the pain caused it to recoil from such obscenities. It didn’t know what about this place and everything that dwelt within cause the pain and rage. It knew the hatred for this world came from an ancient darkness that now swam in every moment of space It clinged to in this wretched world. It was now dependent upon the very thing it hated.
click here for first excerpt posted from rough draft...
It smelled a change in the air. Could taste it on the cold wind. Felt the vibrations ripple through the water smoke that It had learned to appreciate for it’s advantage’s. For all the organic, putrid odors this place had the water smoke was the least irritating to Its constantly irritated senses. It groaned with familiar recognition as Its glycerin textured membranes collected the necessary information It needed. It felt hunger and pain and rage and now It felt the life force vibrating on the thick musky air calling to feed. It knew that the red liquid that flowed from the foul talking things slowed the pain and eased the hunger the most. It also knew that the fiery metallic tasting liquid from the crawling things held some value as well, not as much as the talking things. The talking things seemed to pitch with living and shining noise filling every revolting fiber of this bright and burning world that caused It pain. Every molecule here ripped at Its very existence. This place was a great burning frequency of blasphemy to the endless and space-less darkness from which It was formed. It still felt the starving and tortured remnants of the true darkness crawling within the oozing prison of mass It was forced to wear in this realm.
It moved effortlessly down the mountain side into the smaller hills where the vibrations were stronger. Occasionally it rested upon a branch taking a thicker more solid appearance. It hated the way it felt forcing Its parts to close tighter and form painful dimensions. Mass was necessary in this place. It had to take shape so It could taste and smell the molecules needed to learn this place and to feed. This world was the reason It felt such pain and rage, and the repulsive smell. It only new the great continuity of the void and then somehow It came to be here in the brilliant, noisy organic filth.
When It finally reached the thing that had called Its hunger the creature had no time to react. In the dark night filled with the water smoke It formed the long dagger like fingers, needed for hunting, ripping the flesh and snatching the now limp corpse up into needle sharp teeth, forming in the twisted and distorted mouth of death. Only after It tasted the hot red fluid from the smelly creature with myriad vile fibers extending from the fleshy mass did It understand this things purpose. The dead thing that It fed on had belonged to one of the talking things. Pet was the word it gathered from the fluid. It could smell the odors belonging to the master of this dead creature. It tried to call forth more words that seemed to dance in the liquid of this beast but the pain caused it to recoil from such obscenities. It didn’t know what about this place and everything that dwelt within cause the pain and rage. It knew the hatred for this world came from an ancient darkness that now swam in every moment of space It clinged to in this wretched world. It was now dependent upon the very thing it hated.
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