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Cocklebur King Part II: Poor Unfortunate Soul |
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“What troubles you, my ferocious predator? You are the last I expected to seek me out. Did your quarry escape you for the first time?” The goddess’s voice carried a mocking tone as the beast lay at her feet.
Deep down, the beast recoiled in disgust to the blow at its pride. It had never asked her, the sacred being of the wilderness, for anything before. It was an independent, free spirit that didn’t ask anything from anyone and prided itself in self-sufficiency. Through gritted teeth, the beast reluctantly pleaded for the wild goddess to change it to something to please the bright eyed hunter.
She laughed at first, thinking it was a joke, something silly before making a real request. The beast snarled, feeling the sting of her scornful reply ripping through it and tearing its confidence to shreds. Here it was, one of the most terrifyingly powerful beast in the lands, groveling at the feet of a goddess who would not take it seriously. Hackles on its fur rose, as it slashed violently at the log she was sitting on, leaving deep scouring marks into the trunk.
Almost instantly did that dreadful giggling came to a grinding halt. Her eyes—if they could be called that, for they were unlike any living creatures’ that walked this earth narrowed at this blasphemous behavior. Monstrous or not, she would be respected. A few seconds of awful silence slipped between the two as divine and mortal had their stare-off. Finally she spoke,
“You want to be manflesh? Stripped of your furs, your claws…your freedom….?” The last phrase hung in the air like a nasty smell, making the beast hesitate for a moment. It did not obey anyone’s rules but its own. Why should it start conforming now?
Sensing its hesitation, she added “the beast you are will never change, no matter what form you adorn,” in almost a threatening, sort of manner. Upon hearing this, the beast let loose a spine chilling howl, declaring its desire to be with the human-hunter and damn the consequences. It did not care what the goddess stated, it wanted its wish to be respected, not chastised.
Lips parted, showing the goddess’s own fanged mouth as listened to the creature’s demand, the wildness warming the cockles of her cruel and indifferent heart. She leaned forward as an unnerving bulge began to grow on her forehead. Beads of dark blood dribbled down as the skin stretched until an antler-like protrusion exploded from underneath the holy flesh. Thin tendrils of vines spurted forth, creating a ghastly circlet around her head.
The beast remained immobile, though its hair bristled with anxiety at the unholy sight.. It braced itself, feeling the cold touch of the goddess’s antler, a searing which seemed to burn and freeze it both body and soul---if it had one, at least. It yowled in pain as limbs and muscles began to contort and twist itself into new proportions, bones cracked and reformed and fur felt like it was being plucked out hair by hair all over its body. Fearsome bestial shrieks sliced through the air, slowly turning into gargles as the creature continued to transform. Soon, even the mighty beast could no longer endure the change and the world spiraled into pain and darkness….
 Slick Southpaw · Sun Mar 23, 2014 @ 04:03am · 1 Comments |
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