A Beast In Darkness

    Can you keep a secret? Any secret? What if I told you that I am a ghost in the shadows? What if I said I am a reflection of fear lost in the pale mist of moonlit fantasies? What if you knew that, like wispy tendrils of twilight smoke, I am unnoticed and on the prowl? Would I be safe? Still cloaked by superstitions and free to roam the darkness. Can you keep that secret, can you allow me to remain unhindered?  Could you allow me to remain unseen… unseen by all but the night... the night and the hunger?

   In the eerie silence of midnight, I wait. I wait and I watch, my eyes searching for the one that will grant some much-needed relief.  My mind patiently wanders over the marvels of the many fantastic escapades that are sure to come when at last the chosen one is revealed to me. Sweet anticipation quickens my pulse as desire rises within, demanding to be sated.

    I try to clamp down on the telltale signs of my excitement and maintain my senses. This struggle for control is fierce and undoubtedly futile yet I continue to fight for the necessary composure. I mustn't call attention to myself I must do nothing to disturb the pitch black that keeps me from prying eyes, I must remain invisible or I will face punishment for the master's prolonged starvation. 

    I feel the urgency building inside me, becoming as vital to my survival as the blood coursing through my veins. My mind, body, and soul are being taken over by a fever that burns with the intensity of hell. I allow myself to be swallowed by the abyss and give in to the sickness. Knowing I have fought the battle as long as I dare, I let the disease invade every cell of my being and become master. Losing myself in the sensation, I find myself, all at once, elated and dismayed to realize that my eyes have ceased to search among the crowd. In that last moment of awareness, before I am completely overcome, I understand that the chosen one is close by. 

    I feel my body prepare itself for what is to come. All senses awaken and magnify as the chosen one draws so near that the heat of its body scorches the soul of the beast and brands him helpless with lust. His longing ignites an inferno that rages uncontrollably. The flame consumes him and burns all but a mad obsession for the prize.  

    I have only a second to name the pain piercing my heart as pity before it is replaced by overwhelming joy. I try to feel shameful and repulsed by the acts I know my body will take part in, but all I feel is a sick sort of pleasure and awe of the power and brutality to be inflicted. I no longer hide from that truth, I no longer deny that my demented desires and twisted fantasies are the very reason this evil is so easily able to gain control of all that is me. I confess that I am enthralled by the strength the master brings to my pitifully weak self.

    I have to admit that I enjoy knowing what pain will be inflicted, I relish causing this pain and revel in the destruction it will bring.  I delight in fear and find immense satisfaction in watching it transform into insanity. As the pain goes on and on and the pleas become more frantic, I am filled with such glee and an explosion of pure giddiness when those screams turn into barely heard whimpers. The truth is I am at one with the monster my master has created inside of me. I know I am damned, and I find comfort in that knowledge. The unavoidable truth is.... the damnation of my soul has brought me immeasurable peace. 

    Silently, I follow the object of my master's affection. I am careful not to make any move they might find alarming. I know if I make one wrong move I could lose any chance to capture the prize. I know I must be very aware of the people and the goings-on around me so that I will know when the time is right. I must stay calm and collected. I wrap myself in the invisibility of one of the many faceless peons that are never more than a nagging recollection of a vaguely human form. One of the forgettable beings that never have to worry about being given a second glance because they are never actually given a first.

    It is essential that I become just one among the masses, one so unremarkable that I disappear, blending in so well that I seem a part of any surrounding. A nonentity, a figure that haunts dreams and fills the mind with doubt, that makes you question your sanity and leaves you uncertain of what, exactly, you saw lurking in the shadows. It is this total anonymity that I strive for.     

    As the chosen one makes its way through the streets and alleyways, restless energy builds within the master and my body begins to tremble with excitement. I can feel him aching to let loose and devour the very essence of the chosen one's existence. I feel the gnawing hunger as it becomes unbearable and grows impatient with the hunt.

    I see a mere human approach the master's obsession and become overwhelmed with his anger. I am terrified by this ire yet thrilled by its power. The ultimate reward slips from our grasp as the mortal leads the chosen one to safety amid the throng of witnesses milling about. I can see visions of the suffering he plans to inflict in the name of revenge and am unsure if it's the fear or anticipation of it that makes my heart pound.

    Realizing our plans have been thwarted, the master decides to take another. I understand the validity of this as he will be better able to savor the festivities with the chosen one if his hunger has recently been sated. He has already made his choice.  I sense his focus shift from the chosen one to the unfortunate one. Relief washes over me knowing this night's events have only been slightly altered and make ready for what lies ahead.

    The poor unfortunate has no clue of its fate. That a simple hitch in plans has altered its destiny so drastically. The miserable wretch is unaware of the agony to befall upon its being. Oblivious to the danger, the target makes a turn into a secluded park. "This is perfect!" the master grunts in satisfaction. Dimly lit and isolated, the park is the opportune place to grab this night's substitution. 

    With expert effort and little resistance, 'it' is rendered unconscious. I take great precautions to move the limp form, finding it easy when aided by the master's strength. By command, I am guided to a little known area of the park that will ensure privacy. A disturbance now would be disastrous.

    As Master prepares to feast, I ready the body for its demise. I know what must be done to make the flesh palatable for Master. Once, I found these acts to be distasteful and balked at performing them but no more do I hesitate. Master's punishment is swift and harsh and I fear that above all else. I quickly learned to comply with the master's demands and eventually came to enjoy the rituals expected of me.

    I purify the body by pain and take much pleasure in the creature's reaction to every excruciating blow. I have become quite inventive during purification and, long ago, learned that pain doesn't always come from physical injury. I am exhilarated when landing blows that humiliate the ego and rend the flesh. Overjoyed by the terror in the unfortunate one's eyes, I increase my efforts and am rewarded as its body convulses from the pain. This signals the next step in the process. 

    The flesh must be humbled and accepting of all demands. I begin the chore of making it so by preparing to do battle. This is where it will struggle in earnest, though it will be in vain. There is no act too sadistic or taboo, too heinous to keep me from achieving my goal, there is nothing that is out of bounds. I ready the flesh by breaking the spirit and I take pride in my ability to do so. The fight makes this so much more fun for me, I meet any resistance with painful retaliation until I feel the surrender of its will. When its strength is gone and its hope squashed, it will become docile. This mass of quivering fear is now ready to be cleansed.               

    Cleansing takes patience. Cleansing takes practice. I must rid the body of filth without destroying it. If the cleansing is not done correctly, the master can not feast. I take extra care with the fire then carefully place the unfortunate one on the makeshift pyre. I watch the time, I watch the body, I watch the flames... Just as the light is leaving its eyes I pull it from the fire and place it before the master. I bow in reverence, signaling the readiness of the offering. Master touches my head permitting me to serve him. 

    I watch as the unfortunate one realizes that all that came before will pale in comparison to what awaits. Too weak to beg, too tired to fight, I watch as it prepares for its end. I listen as it musters up a prayer. When I tear the first bit of scorched flesh from its body, I find myself aroused by the screams that escape it in whimpered pleas, its body is too weak to call up anything stronger. I feel its spirit being released into the night as the master, at last, gets his fill. Master is pleased, I am pleased. I am relieved I have, once again, prepared the feast and have not been feasted upon.

   With no one noticing the monster within their midst, we rejoin the masses. None being the wiser of that great feast not a stone's throw away from them. The unsuspecting crowds continue in the utter uselessness of their sorry existence. Blissfully unaware this could be the fate that awaits any one of them, not one of them sense the danger they are in... They have yet to taste that fear... It will come... It will take over their lives and it will surely destroy them...

   So, I ask you again..can you keep a secret…