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The Bone Scatterd Hole

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posted on Jul, 25 2009 @ 02:10 AM
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Those hungry eyes that never stop searching. His teeth always nashing on the days kill. This beast huddled in it's bone scattered hole doesn't see the light of day. All he sees is the light of the moon and the contorted faces of the next meal. His fur is matted with blood, dirt, and pieces of what he eats. How he howls in the night when his stomach makes its demands, pulling him from his hole one more time. The girl in the car doesn't know what's she is in for. She doesn't know that in a matter of minutes she will be the lower being on the food chain. She doesn't know the horror of being torn limb from limb she will face.

The screams no one will ever hear. The faces that loved ones will never see again. This is what lies in that bone scattered hole where nothing dares tread. This hole, this deep, dark hole, where the damned now rest. This hole that seems to reach to very the depths of hell itself. Every night this demon emerges from those depths. Every night, creeping. Every night bringing down a fresh catch, screaming to deaf ears. The walls are painted with blood.

This beast has no mother. Born from the darkest depths of Hell, a bloody womb from which it ripped its way out. A beast of legend, he has been around for only God knows how long, if He even knows.

There is only a bloody hole where his heart should be, oozing with blood so black that it shames the night sky. Oh but those eyes, those eyes that flash in the night. Those eyes so furious and filled with blood lust. Those eyes that smile when he is ripping into the hiker and eating his entrails. They are the devil's eyes that taunt and laugh maliciously at the screams of pain and the begging for death.

Oh, how they beg. The beg for it all to be over, they beg for the dark to come. "Oh, stop the pain! Stop the ripping of claws and the gnawing of teeth!" These words that fall on the ears of a beast. He loves the screams from those blood filled mouths, he relishes it. The sound of another victory won and the sound of another meal that won't be lost.

What horrors does something like this come from? Who knows? A beast with no history, a beast with no name. A beast that only hungers. A beast that cannot be stopped. When the people are gone he still will not die. When the animals are dead and gone he will still be here, waiting, hungering. Nothing can stop him. He is fear, the chill on your bones, the hair standing up on the back of your neck. He's what lies under your bed, waiting for you to sleep, waiting to creep into your head. He is the pain your heart feels, he is the deafening scream in your ear. He is the one telling you that you can't. He is the rustle in the woods that is gone when you turn your head. He is the last thing your damned eyes will ever see. The ripping of his claws into your flesh may be the last thing you ever feel. The last warmth you feel will only be your blood pouring from your body. Your last breath...will be a scream.




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