Razor, vicious claws sprang from Ethan’s hand as silver silk moon beams highlighted the midnight fur newly coating his hands.
Seconds ago he appeared just like any other human but a bestial emotion, hidden deep in his heart, unknown and un-understandable to a human mind ravaged his soul until he could bear it no longer.
The longing to peel back the layers of skin and bone and pluck his heart from his chest became a craving, and then a burning need. Scrabbling at his sternum with soft, pudgy human hands, Ethan groveled on the floor hopelessly, until now.
Ethan glanced at his wicked clasp then, as his mind altered as well, he deciphered this emotion. It was blood-lust. His blood-lust. He had to punish his heart and the hearts of those around him. Life had become stale and punishing. But this, this promised so much and required urgency.
As his finger’s fangs slid smoothly into his pale, thin chest with a pleasing sound, the pain ripped through his consciousness and brought him to his knees but could not conquer the intense pleasure. Shredding, peeling, and snapping off bones and skin, Ethan chortled in ectasy, soon his heart would be his. As the last rib splintered he felt inside the hallow cavern of his chest.
First slowly, then picking up speed as panic overtook him, his gnarled claws searched franticly in his open and bleeding chest. His heart was gone.
Blackness threatened his consciousness and his vision became blurred and faded as the pain triumphed over the betraying pleasure.
Finally,, his claws found their target and closed around the torturing heart with relief. Then with a vicious jerk, he snapped it from its place and stared at his personal inquisition, panting with the effort to stay in the land of the alive, or awakened dead. Behind him a gasp ripped the silence.
Ethan shakily stood then turned to face the intruder. His mom stood, shocked in the doorway of the house, clutching her mouth and staring at Ethan, or rather, what used to be Ethan. Ignoring the splintered bone, the cavern dug into his chest, and the room splattered and half painted in scarlet with blood, she stared into his eyes, now completely milky white, pleading with him. Time slowed as a brief silence encompassed what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly breaking the spell, Ethan’s claws scraped as they quickly crushed the heart. In unison with the destruction of the torturing device, Ethan slumped heavily to the hard tile floor, warm and sticky with blood.
Seconds ago he appeared just like any other human but a bestial emotion, hidden deep in his heart, unknown and un-understandable to a human mind ravaged his soul until he could bear it no longer.
The longing to peel back the layers of skin and bone and pluck his heart from his chest became a craving, and then a burning need. Scrabbling at his sternum with soft, pudgy human hands, Ethan groveled on the floor hopelessly, until now.
Ethan glanced at his wicked clasp then, as his mind altered as well, he deciphered this emotion. It was blood-lust. His blood-lust. He had to punish his heart and the hearts of those around him. Life had become stale and punishing. But this, this promised so much and required urgency.
As his finger’s fangs slid smoothly into his pale, thin chest with a pleasing sound, the pain ripped through his consciousness and brought him to his knees but could not conquer the intense pleasure. Shredding, peeling, and snapping off bones and skin, Ethan chortled in ectasy, soon his heart would be his. As the last rib splintered he felt inside the hallow cavern of his chest.
First slowly, then picking up speed as panic overtook him, his gnarled claws searched franticly in his open and bleeding chest. His heart was gone.
Blackness threatened his consciousness and his vision became blurred and faded as the pain triumphed over the betraying pleasure.
Finally,, his claws found their target and closed around the torturing heart with relief. Then with a vicious jerk, he snapped it from its place and stared at his personal inquisition, panting with the effort to stay in the land of the alive, or awakened dead. Behind him a gasp ripped the silence.
Ethan shakily stood then turned to face the intruder. His mom stood, shocked in the doorway of the house, clutching her mouth and staring at Ethan, or rather, what used to be Ethan. Ignoring the splintered bone, the cavern dug into his chest, and the room splattered and half painted in scarlet with blood, she stared into his eyes, now completely milky white, pleading with him. Time slowed as a brief silence encompassed what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly breaking the spell, Ethan’s claws scraped as they quickly crushed the heart. In unison with the destruction of the torturing device, Ethan slumped heavily to the hard tile floor, warm and sticky with blood.
Give me a couple days!