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The demon of second chances
It worked in the recesses
the nooks and cracks of the darkness.
It’s shapeless meandering form intent on its work
It’s slither of arms and tentacles wrapped around
the soul
It’s tortures fizzing within the human it bound
The fizz and crackles followed by the whiff of
meat more than burned and tastelessness so far beyond.
It had a focus unparalleled by its kin even its master in
awe of its appetite for torture
For eons he had squeezed the guilt from every depraved and decrepit morsel of humanity
Then it changed with step of a foot
A line of humans trailed from his workspace
and from the corner, if you could call them eyes, he noticed a shuffle in the line.
Usually one in fear trying to flee but that only brought them nearer, the master never liked queue jumpers, but something was different
One had took another’s place, his hand grabbed the throat of his next victim a look of horror straining over the humans face
It paused replacing the human back at the front of the line it’s passing look telling I will get back to you.
In some language a cross between a laughable yawn and a grunt
it summoned some of its lowerings to bring the anxious soul closer to his reach
The lowerings quick to respond to its elder brothers rasp grasped the human.the urgency accidentally ripping the humans face in twain as they jostled it to the front.
Copyright ©
Christopher Quigley
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