“Night”
All but my soul remains silent. A light signifies another device designated for malicious purposes, and it glimmers brightly before fading into the distance of this forsaken land which I tread so heavily on, for my country, or for my own profit? I know not what to make of my motives, and some regret and nervousness fills me, but is quickly dismissed by a psychotic and mutinous mind that I have been powerless to stop. It is nightfall, not but a creature save a lone dragonfly skimming over a pool of sewage and refuse stirs the hot, convective air, averting tiny eyes to the gaze of the night as it searches for a quarry. I find relevance in this statement, for I am searching for a convenient acquaintance with which to resolve frivolous quarrels and emerge the better. They will be dealt with.
The house on the left is derelict, yet repaired by industrious hands on the north side, whose efforts are, in the back of my head, I know, in vain. The place is a dilapidated structure, covered in dirt, blood and rubbish piles that stand tall, saved from demolition only by the grace of a weapon operator’s less than stellar optics, whom they have not the time to thank nor scorn in this life, for I am upon them quicker than sound reaches attentive ears. The front door is closed. No escape for either party now, willing or unwilling: the brain of one’s is too infatuated with the hopelessness of conflicts of old, renewed to thought with much grief. Within is my quarry.
I shove my automatic firearm into a crevice and search for a soul with a frontal video device. None is found. The entrance to the dwelling is now ajar thanks to deft paws that are of my ownership, which I make use of again when I find a body on the floor of the hovel. They sweep over the still breathing form of my target’s partner, and latch onto his soft, defenseless neck. I feel the hot blood pulsing through his arterial networks, and the feeling shoots adrenaline into me as I complete a step of the task I secretly wish not to perform, yet still transpire to carry on, his eyes quickly darting from side to side as my grasp becomes firmer. The controller of his life is me. The blood begins to run faster in his veins, but gradually slows to insignificant speed. A deep moan emerges from the throat of my victim before hitting the air, rumbling, yet no other occupant stirs. The adrenaline gives me a brilliant high, which is soon recovered from as the dying suitor’s will vanishes. A gurgle. Eyes stare up at me, which are ignored. I cannot stand their terrible gaze. Finished, no second is wasted. I search for the other occupant behind a bedroom door. My final act is upon me.
Before the door is open, I feel a resonating slap and a piercing sound as I witness a chunk of rib cage escape my body at frightening velocities. The bullet is inconsequential. None stand in my way now, except a woman, gazing sharply at me for a fleeting second before bounding towards a lone window. Reflexes honed better, I ensure she fails to escape. Knocked out, I began the laborious process of carrying out deeds I promised myself I had control enough not to do, but was mistaken. She comes to, but minutes late, tied to the bed a short while ago was so innocent, and soon would be the opposite. Thoughts run through me like the bullet that gave them a jolt. The process begins anew, and soon she lies unclothed and naked, weak. My control over the situation is undeniable. There is no logic. I partly remove my garments and let myself run wild.
At first it is difficult: she struggles violently, but after a second rope all is well. A body so beautiful, she would never have me willingly, like others. Tonight, I will have her, for now she is mine alone, stripped of dignity. I get another cold stare. This time it is a living one. Filled with tears. There is no choice for either of us now. I start. She does not move as my true love did so long ago, happy and synchronized. It sinks in, the coldness of my being as I become a perpetrator of unthinkable things. She screams, but my fur silences her, slamming into the limp body with extreme force. It feels good, so my body tells me, but a little sliver of my mind voices its discontent. It goes ignored and unanswered. I begin the end, and find myself to be wet with cold sweat, energy ebbing. I pull out, wet. It is finished. She expects no more, and I deliver. The gun goes for the temple of my victim’s head, controlling my hand more than being guided by it, and finding a suitable indent, set off the deadly reaction. It’s barrel lurches back before tipping forward into the hole created by the bullet, and comes out coated in grey matter and an unforgiving smell. Final regrets are dispensed of. It is over.
Stamina gone, the barrel swings. Looks at me with no malice or judgment, as I have to others in past places. They are regrettable. This is my final will, as I would have carried out when I began. Yawning, the tip of the terrible machine touches the roof of my mouth, moved with the grace of hands earlier innocent, now criminal. Wind rattles outside trees and sends a refreshing breeze across worn fur; my own, thus I sit, dizzy from blood loss. All but my soul remains quiet.