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View Full Version : Where the Sleeping Beast Lies



freebyrd32
December 8th, 2010, 04:38 AM
He lifted the edge of the cover and leaned back to look at the reflections on the floor. The moonlight was shining though the window and over the cars, trains, and torn cloth scattered across the floor.

What a filthy beast. He thought to himself.

She would tell him that it is their nature. Not to make him accept their nature in anyway, no, they were congenial on the topic of the beast. She would just say it out loud to help him accept his existence here with them. She believed in the way. “We would not run into the lions den and demand our freedom to theirs”. She would say.

He smelled lightly the air that came from under the cover. He could smell the beast as it slept above with snot drying around the nostril and drool slapping about between the pillow and cheek. Now was the time… and it was short.

The ritual could not be rushed. Death takes it’s time when you’re begging for it. He also knew the beast’s tribe would soon sense deception afoot and return.

Slowly he stepped out from under the cage. He grasped the fabric of the cover with his clawed fist and began his ascent. He could feel the cover begin to slip and then catch again as he lifted himself away from the floor. He held still for a moment looking up at the edge of the cage. The handled ball had pinned a fold of the cover between the bars of the creature’s cage. The weapon lays still he thought. When he had renewed his confidence his continued his climb.

He reached the crest of the cage floor just as the handled ball let go of the cover. He was close enough to throw a fist over the side and dig his claws into the firm top while the cover floated down to the floor beneath. The handled ball balanced lightly on the edge of the cage. If it had gone over everything would have been lost. This was a one time opportunity that he knew would never again present itself.

He pulled himself upward and pressed his head through the bars. He knew if the head would fit he could squeeze everything else through. The head went easily and the rest did follow. Now he was only steps away from where he would begin the ritual.

He could see the folds of the beasts eyes and hear the air of it’s life flowing threw the snot filled nose. In it’s slumber it appeared harmless, almost peaceful. He could hear the squealing in his mind though. The joy the beast found always fed the squeal.

It was not the beasts squeal or filthy nature alone that fed his hate. It was the way the small ones hunted, no sympathy, no surrender. They would tear about the territory in the caves, and under the cages looking for them. The way the beast would grab them around the throat, playfully laughing as they would struggle for breath.

They way it laughed as she struggled for breath.

He stepped lightly across the cage and up to the beast. It slept perfectly on it’s back, almost as if it had been placed purposely in preparation for the ritual. An offering.

He took his first step onto the chest slowly and cautiously, ready to dive through the cage bars if the beast awoke. Then slowly his other step followed. This beast was small enough that two steps were all he needed to get close. He leaned in placing his nose closer to the beasts face. Close enough he almost touched the drying crust of the nostrils. Then he began the ritual. Breathing in slowly he pulled air in from around the space between his face and the beast’s. With each breath he pulled with a little more force and effort. The beast did not stir but began to flutter at the eyes, began to swell at the neck. Suddenly the mouth arched open, almost knocking him from the chest, and then closed again. The eyelids began to take on a bluing tint and the chest began to slow. The ritual was working. The beast was slowly, with each breath, suffocating.

Patience was of paramount importance now and he knew that. Still he thought the beast should have begun to choke. He shifted his rear leg back to improve his position slightly, all the way forward until he actually felt the draining snot tough his own nose. Then he heard the air explode around him.

Startled out of his ritual he turned and twisted trying to dive away and through the bars. His footing slipped slightly as he thrust his hips. It was enough to change his trajectory from flowing between the bars to smashing directly into one.

The bar hit hard in the middle of his forehead, flushing his vision with stars and spinning his sense of direction. He could not remember where he was fleeing but he could here the sound of a million plastic explosions rattling in his ears. It was the sound of the handled ball. He could remember the ball on the edge of the cage floor and began to understand the exploding sounds in the air. The handled ball had fallen from the cage. Suddenly he heard the floor pounding and felt the cage floor shift heavily toward the bars. The beast was awake.

He heard the squeal pierce the night as he was pinned against the bars by the body of the beast as it fought to come back to life. The racing footsteps shook the entire room and the pictures on the walls began to float away from the walls. The beast shifted again, finally freeing him from the bars. He jumped to the opposite side of the cage just as the door burst open allowing the light to burn patterns into his eyes.

It was then he heard it. The large beasts had entered the room and were now searching for the source of the noise. He crumpled to the closed end of the cage hoping they would not see him. The small creature sat up and blinked it’s eyes, confirming that, indeed, Death would not grace this room tonight. Then they saw him.

The large beasts approached the cage and looked in at him. Pinned by the bars and the beast, he knew there was no escape. Then the small beast saw him and immediately thrust forward in his direction. He closed his eyes and hoped that the large beasts got their first. They did.
He was lifted quickly out of the cage by the skin on the back of his neck. Then he felt a small pat just under his hip that did nothing more than feed his misanthropy tenfold. Then the large beast, the one with the most hair, spoke. “Bad Kitty”