A Bottle Of Rum

Blood washed paws cursed the earth; the plants beneath them stained away—with each holy step. Long claws pierced the earth, overturning mud and grime. A golden pelt blending within the night. The beast would be a ghost, a shadow, if it weren’t for demonic silver pools that blazed through the darkness as bright as the flames of hell. The brute had been glaring at the mortals that inhabited this strange land. It was almost sickening; a disgrace. And they said Gods’ negativity had cased the spawning of such pathetic life forms? They should be ashamed. The incubus was a God in his holy prime, caged within a mortal vessel from the depths of the underworld, or so he believed yet what other proof there was other than his luminescene that never left him. He was the Sun himself. He had no particular reason for being here, no inner goal to achieve by being within this place; he didn’t care for mortals and their needs were the least of his worries. Residing here was no different than being in the desert he called his home… Well, perhaps it was different; there was no ash, no fire, no screams of agony, no potent scent of blood or decay. Maybe it was the exiled King that was no different. If the incubus had been home, he would be doing the same thing he was now: absolutely nothing. There were things to do--too many really--but they brought him no enjoyment. To rip the flesh from other beings did not sate his hunger for blood, to torture and maim a soul was not as amusing as it was to the others. There were those out there with the same problem he imagined, of course, but to fulfill that longing, they found partners. There were plenty of succubus, of course, and they were all beautiful, all wetting his lust, but none that could tickle the fancy quite like the mortals did. Taunt a few unlucky Gods, rape a few unsuspecting mortals, who knows? Maybe he’ll even get to kill a few things. That’s what the beast had thought, but be it fortune or misfortune the exiled King reunite with a particular image long forgotten within time and space, his daughter. Who knows what this place may hide, therefore he decided to stay. Well, something to do, something to do… what was there to do? The brute scavenged his brain, but nothing arose to appease him.

" words of a god"