Music, Ink and Flesh

The hunger had been gnawing at me for a while, but I had, of course, been occupied with more urgent things. If you read Hart’s last post, however, you know that I finally took the opportunity to go hunting again.

Spotted my victim as he left a convenience store parking lot, likely planning on walking home. I followed him for a while, slowly closing the distance between us. It was late at night and the streets were empty, leaving only the sound of our footsteps in the snow. Eventually he noticed the noise and glanced back at me. I sprang forward, extending my limbs to run on all fours. He dropped the bag he had been carrying in shock as he backed up before turning to run. I leapt, knocking him into the, now unraveling space before us. He hit the ground hard, and I gave him no chance to recover. Dragged him to the carved post before hoisting him by his wrists and binding them to the hook at the top. Forming claws, I ripped his coat and shirt from him, leaving his flesh exposed.

“Oh God!” he cried, finally snapping out of his stunned state. “Oh God, what the fuck are you?!”

“What am I?” I smiled, considering the question as I circled around him. “An aberration. An amalgamation. The unintended fusion of a murderous human and a gluttonous interdimensional being. A monster.” I came to a stop in front of him, looking into his eyes. “And the one who will bring your life to a very painful end.”

“But why?!” He sputtered. “What did I do?”

“Nothing that I’m aware of. You simply had the extreme misfortune of crossing my path.”

I stepped closer to him.

“W-wait-” he started before I cut him off.

“Now, now, I answered your questions. It’s your turn to answer mine.” Moving to his side, I gently turned his body as much as the restraints would allow so I could peek at his back. “Ah, I thought I saw a tattoo there! Why don’t you tell me about that?”

“What?” he blurted, clearly not expecting the question “It’s an abstract treble clef with string wings.”

“I can see that, dear” I said, letting go of his side and stepping in front of him again. “But what I want to know is the story behind it. Are you a musician? A music lover?”

“Both” he replied, “I play the violin and the tattoo represents how it makes me feel.”

“And how does it make you feel?” I asked.

“Free” he said, letting out a small, pained laugh, likely because his current situation was anything but that. “Especially when I compose my own pieces.”

“It sounds like you’re quite passionate about it” I said. “Would it be correct to say that it’s a driving force in your life? Something you need?”

“Y-yeah”

“Excellent” I said, very pleased with his answers. “I can certainly relate, as I’m an artist, myself, although my mediums of choice are different. Flesh and bone and blood are what I like to work with. Cutting, breaking, stitching, twisting it as I please- creating agony. I hunger for it, needing it as you need your music.”

He had been trembling before, but he began to shake even harder as I spoke.

“But my music doesn’t hurt anyone…” he weakly offered.

“Well, my art does, and tonight, your body will be the canvas.”

He stared at me in horrified silence for a moment, but found his voice again when I reached for his face.

“Wait! Please!” He cried in desperation “I don’t want to die!”

“Heh… you might by the time I’m done.” I said “Regardless, I’m not going to spare you, so you might as well save your breath.”

“Well…” His voice broke for a moment “Well… if you’re going to kill me, then could you at least do it quick and do the… cutting and breaking after?”

I giggled at the request before grabbing his face.

“Oh, my poor dear, I’m sorry, but your suffering is part of the process,” I said as a thin tendril slipped out of one of my fingers. “Now… Let’s take care of your mouth first.”

Using the tendril as both needle and thread, I swiftly stitched it closed.

“There, that’s better” I said, releasing his face from my grasp.

Decided that, since music was such an important part of his life, it should be part of his death too. Figured that since he was a violinist, he would probably like the classical variety, so I pulled up a collection of it on my phone. My power over this domain allowed me to alter and amplify the sound, making it seem like it was coming from all around us, with perfect clarity. I swayed in time with it for a few moments, and then began to dance.

As Hart described, I allowed my body to contort with the music in a way that no human could, sticking out a claw every now and then to slice at him. His mouth may have been sewn shut, but this didn’t stop him from trying to scream anyway. I relished in his muffled cries while breathing in the scent of his blood. Ah, it had been too long.

Eventually, I drew in close to him, dug my claws into his chest before dragging them downward, leaving red furrows behind. He shook his head in pain as tears flowed from his eyes. My stitches gave way so I could extend my tongue to lick them up, tasting his fear. Clamped a hand around his throat so I could feel his pulse pounding under my fingers as I bit into his cheek. Pulling back, I tore a strip of flesh from him, savoring it as he struggled in my grasp.

I let go of his throat and freed him from the post. He tried to pull away but I held his arms tight in my hands. I began to dance again, forcing him to move with me. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t quite keep up, so when my arms twisted, his broke, when mine extended, his came apart entirely. He fell to the ground, hyperventilating and writhing in agony. Tendrils slid out of my stomach, seizing his destroyed limbs and pulling them in. His eyes rolled back as blood gushed from his stumps. I danced around him in a circle, finally coming to a stop by his head. Kneeling down, I thanked him for the conversation and the dance before drawing a claw across his throat like a bow across the strings of a violin. I licked some of his blood from my fingers as I watched him die, then sent my tendrils out once more to pull his head into my maw.

Originally, I had intended to keep him alive and miserable for much longer, but I had truly enjoyed the conversation, so as a show of gratitude, I ended things early. Tore off his legs and consumed them, then propped what was left of him up against the post. Figured that, since I didn’t keep him as a living art project, I would make him into another sort before I finished my meal. I haven't drawn anything in quite some time, but I’m pleased with the result.

 

 

Ah, I really needed that.