Games

THERIOPHOBIA: FEAR THE BEAST Part 41

[LISTEN UP, FRIENDS. IF YOU HAVEN’T BEEN READING UP TO THIS POINT, TRUST ME, YOU’RE GOING TO WANT TO START READING RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW. OTHERWISE YOU’LL MISS THE MOST BADASS WEREWOLF TO EVER GRACE A LITERARY PUBLICATION.]

The Beast paused, pupils and nostrils dilated, ears erect. Listening, watching, smelling. Its purple-black tongue dangled from its open jaws, virtually tasting. Behind it, the practice tracks and intermittent darkness, the freeway main out of city. Earlier than it, the celebration stretched for 4 blocks, individuals congested and writhing collectively like maggots on a rotting carcass. Tons of, hundreds, ten thousand or extra, the sweat of their our bodies bleeding collectively right into a single overpowering stench. The odor drove the Beast mad, crammed it with primal rage.

Silver mild rained down upon the city of Ironwood from the complete Moon, a chilly rock suspended in area, reflecting the heat of the solar however providing none of its personal. A mute, distant, aloof witness to all that transpired under. A lifeless factor hanging within the air, incapable of pity.

There can be no pity for the individuals of Ironwood this night time.

The Beast roared, saying its presence. Already some had seen it; others now took discover. A scream, a second farther away. Heads turned. Individuals stared. Frozen in place, their advanced minds incapable of accepting what they noticed. Eyes large with incomprehension, mouths agape, lips shifting and tongues working but making no sound.

Too silly even to run.

The geese started to squawk.

” . . . the hell is that?!”
” . . . some man in a fancy dress . . . ”
” . . . assume it’s a bear!”
” . . . from down on the corn maze . . . ”
” . . . virtually Halloween . . . ”
” . . . no . . . assume it’s actual!”
“…just a few type of prank.”
” . . . stinks!”
” . . . higher name the police!”
” . . . can see the zipper . . . ”

*They see, however they don’t perceive.*

The Beast sat bat on its haunches. Its bones popped and cracked because the joints realigned , its shoulders, its knees and elbows, its backbone. The Beast stood up on its hind legs in mockery of the creatures earlier than it, the so-called masters of Creation.

*Look on me, little ones. Look on me, and tremble.*

Then it started.

Insanity. Panic. Individuals tripping over themselves and others to get away. Some grabbed up young children, others knocking them apart. A sales space of woodcrafts toppled over, a desk laden with woven cedar baskets spilled. From a mile away, the shriek and rumble of an approaching practice.

A ball of crimson hearth arced heavenward, a capturing star in reverse, then burst right into a kaleidoscope of shade. One other adopted it, then one other. Fireworks crammed the night time sky, bursts of pink, inexperienced, white, blue, pink, orange, shading the occasions under with their mild.
The Beast ignored the fireworks, simply because it ignored the odors of meals cooking off to its proper, the sensory overload of the carnival itself. Solely the sheep mattered to it, the hoofstock, the pitiful hairless monkeys. And the Beast’s empty stomach, grumbling, impatient to be crammed.

It dropped again on its hind legs and jumped. It’s limbs shifted because it sailed by means of the air to land on all fours. A second sure introduced it right down to land on a operating lady’s again. A chew to the bottom of her neck silenced her screams. Blood crammed the Beast’s mouth, scorching and candy. The Beast trembled with the frenzy of the kill.

A person rushed from the open doorway of the DOWNTOWN DELI, drawn by the screams. He simply had the prospect to note the Beast earlier than a swipe of its proper forepaw snapped his neck and peeled the flesh from the aspect of his head. A kick with a hind leg eviscerated an older man who had been pushed too shut by the mob.

*Throughout me.* The Beast turned its head from proper to left. *Good issues to eat.*

It lept right into a tent festooned with a banner promoting HANDMADE LEATHER GOODS. Lifeless flesh, pores and skin. Unappetizing. However women and men had been trapped contained in the canvas partitions, impeded, unable to run.
The tent collapsed on prime of them, trapping them inside with the Beast. The tent tossed and billowed, rose and fell. Splotches of pink appeared on the pale blue canvas. A claw ripped open the material and the Beast tore its method out, blood dripping from its muzzle.

*Throughout me.*

The Beast struck a downward blow with its left forepaw. The impression tore off a teenage male’s arm, despatched him crashing by way of the storefront window of the IRONWOOD BRIDAL SHOP.

*Meat. Screaming meat.*

The Beast crossed the road with a lunge, toppling a show of framed footage and pinning an previous lady to the sidewalk with its paws. It dug into her like a fresh-baked pie.

As many individuals appeared to be operating in the direction of it now as have been operating away from it. From someplace, an overweight man in overalls had discovered a shovel. He ran up and struck the Beast throughout the again, breaking the deal with. His braveness earned him a fast demise because the Beast reared up and introduced its jaws down over his neck and shoulder.

With one other leap, the Beast landed within the midst of a cluster of individuals trapped in the midst of the road, individuals unable to run because of the sheer numbers of the gang, unable to hunt escape. A person died, a lady, one other man, a toddler, a lady. Blood pooled underfoot, whipped right into a froth by trampling ft, sprayed into the humid night time air and fell again to earth like nice fats raindrops. Fireworks exploded overhead, contesting with the Moonlight.

Blood. The Beast smelled blood. However unusual, antiseptic smelling, not the scent of recent blood, scorching and moist. Chilled blood, and chemical compounds. The Beast’s nostrils dilated because it drank within the scent. Curious, it turned. In no hurry, it walked within the course of this new odor.

A lady dressed all in white noticed it coming, and screamed. A white shirt and skirt, her black hair confined underneath just a little white hat. The brightness incongruous together with her black pores and skin. She appeared bleached, unnatural. This, too, irritated the Beast. It trotted in the direction of the lady, who bumped into the car behind her, a white bus, with a big scarlet cross painted on its aspect. The odor appeared to be emanating from contained in the white bus. And the cross irritated the Beast probably the most of all.

It charged, slamming into the door of the bus. The folding door, extra glass than metallic, gave means with the influence, however the Beast discovered itself too giant to squeeze via the door. The lady, hidden someplace contained in the car, screamed, louder than earlier than, and the chilled coppery odor, no mistake about it, was coming from contained in the bus as properly.

A recreation, then. A deal with for the Beast, giftwrapped in metal. A field to be opened so the monster might get on the goodies inside, and discover the answer to the puzzle. The Beast backed away, trotted a couple of ft, then spun and rammed into the door once more. Nonetheless too small, however the impression brought on all the lengthy car to shudder, to raise up off its tires a couple of inches on one aspect.

The Beast hit it once more, after which once more, backing up just a little extra every time to construct up extra velocity, extra pressure. The bus lifted up off its wheels a foot, two ft, then dropped again to the pavement. Yet one more time; the Beast backed up the farthest of all. A bit of additional push, and the bus toppled over onto its aspect. Glass shattered; metallic crumpled. The lady inside sounded hysterical.

The Beast discovered the underside of the car ineffective for gaining entrance. The lengthy white bus had no mushy underbelly. The Beast grew indignant now, not within the temper to play. It lept up onto the aspect of the bus and commenced to peel away its metallic pores and skin, digging, ripping on the white paint and the pink cross. The metal and aluminum yielded to the Beast’s claws, and it tore open a gap giant sufficient to suit via.

The Beast jumped inside. When it emerged a couple of moments later, it had solved the thriller of the brand new odor, and the lady didn’t scream anymore. She couldn’t, with out her lungs. The Beast wore her blood as fragrance–scorching, recent blood, salty, coppery, filled with taste and clear, under no circumstances just like the gallons of refrigerated blood saved inside the white bus–and it carried a strip of her uniform, not white in any respect, however sodden pink, dangling like a captured flag from the nook of its mouth.

Throughout the road, the Primary Road Bistro constituted one of many few buildings within the downtown with multiple story. Its entrance wall was product of glass and the Beast might see individuals operating round inside, scrambling over upturned tables to get to a flight of previous picket stairs. What could be upstairs, the Beast questioned, of curiosity?

It crossed the road with two bounds; a 3rd carried it via the glass wall of the restaurant and inside. One man, bushy and fats, had seen the Beast coming and ran in off the road, by means of the revolving door of the Bistro. However the Beast beat him inside. Had the person thought to outrun it? Or perhaps he didn’t understand the monster was headed for a similar place as he? In any case, the revolving doorways spun the person out proper within the Beast’s path, and a swipe of its paw opened up his fats stomach to the world. His scream drowned in his lungs.

The steps creaked beneath the Beast’s weight, they usually additionally have been too slender for it. It shattered the handrail because it climbed, toppling it to the ground under in strips of kindling. Upstairs was a second eating space, however the restaurant had no third flooring. The individuals crammed inside–two dozen? No, nearer to 3–the individuals had nowhere else to run. The Beast blocked the doorway.

Proper within the entrance, pushed to the entrance, a black lady held just a little black child in a brilliant pink gown. The lady’s scream sounded totally different than most. It contained as a lot defiance as worry, even rage. The Beast cocked its head, listening.

“Within the identify of the Lord, begone!” the lady screamed. Tears, sure, however power. It made the Beast need her extra. The infant was crying too, and it (she, the Beast recalled, reminded itself. Little women have been wearing pink) appeared as ripe and plump as a grape.

The Beast took a step into the room, and one man threw a chair via one of many home windows and adopted it out. The jagged glass reduce one in every of his legs to the bone, however that didn’t cease one other man and a lady from leaping out after him. Regardless of. There have been two home windows, no extra, and too many individuals crammed into the room. Only a few would get away earlier than the Beast obtained round to them, and of these few, the Beast might look forward to finding some mendacity on the road under with damaged limbs, ready with well mannered endurance for the Beast to return again down.
However first, the lady and the child.

The Beast took one other step, and froze. A breeze entered by way of the shattered window, lifting the skinny curtains and filling the cramped room. The Beast’s nostrils flared; its heartbeat quickened.

Unmistakable. Even amidst the overwhelming scent of the individuals crammed within the upstairs room, the unwashed aroma of their worry oozing out by way of their pores. Even via the billion smells wafting in on the breeze from outdoors. One scent amongst so many, however with no mistaking it. Nor mistaking its familiarity.

Fragrance. The sort of fragrance worn by a lady, one particular lady, mingled together with her personal private scent, the smells of her hair, her make-up, the detergent in her garments, the cleaning soap she washes with, her sweat, her cunt, her asshole. All blended collectively, the odor of 1 lady, distinctive to her, distinctive in all of the world. No mistake.

Sweet Paradise.

Little Purple Driving Hood with the large bloated tits.

And shut. Very shut.

The Beast lept.

The black lady dropped, holding her child beneath her, making an attempt to defend it together with her personal physique. Giving her again as a goal to save lots of her youngster. As if the Beast wouldn’t have peeled her away to get on the morsel beneath. However the Beast not cared for this lady or her child. It jumped over her, by means of the gang, ignoring all of them. One other individual jumped by way of the window and the Beast adopted her. However it didn’t need this woman. It needed out.

The younger lady hit the sidewalk and the Beast landed virtually on prime of her. One other crowd had gathered on the road. Curious conduct. Did some other species of herd animal on the planet collect spherical their predator, watch with passive horror as their fellows have been devoured, every ready their very own flip beneath their slayer’s tooth? However the Beast favored it that method. It made it really easy.

The Beast sniffed the air, shook its head to clear its nostrils of blood and snot, sniffed once more. Its gleaming pink eyes reduce via the gang, the our bodies of the individuals scintillating with warmth within the Beast’s imaginative and prescient. It will have been capable of see them in complete darkness. Its ears filtering out the screams. Looking for one scent, one face and type, the sound of 1 voice.

After which it discovered her. Amidst the chaos of sights and sounds, it discovered her.

With a roar, the Beast charged, plowing individuals apart and trampling them beneath its paws, as unstoppable because the locomotive that rumbled alongside the tracks behind it.

*Come to me, little bitch*, the Beast stated to itself. *Your ass is mine*.

* * *

WAYNE MILLER is the proprietor and artistic director of EVIL CHEEZ PRODUCTIONS (www.evilcheezproductions.blogspot.com, www.fb.com/evilcheezproductions), specializing in theatrical performances and haunted points of interest. He has written, produced and directed (and infrequently acted in) over a dozen performs, most of them within the Horror and Crime genres. His first novel, THE CONFESSIONS OF SAINT CHRISTOPHER: WEREWOLF, is obtainable for buy at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/734763

MORTUI VELOCES SUNT!

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