Nightmares plagued his sleep. The vision of blood painted the back of his eyelids in rivers of red and silent screams clung to his subconscious. The unheard screams of his mother. The the hollow and fruitless pleas of his wife whose extended hand reached out for him. His own fingers finding nothing but air. The nightmares of the child who dreamed of committing murder. All the demons of his waking mind danced in the playground of his defenseless mind and all he could do was watch on in horror as each slipped away to be swallowed by the empty shadows. If only he could wake up. He needed to wake up. Now!
The young male’s eyes opened wide as air filled his lungs. Had he stopped breathing? He rolled onto his side as he so often did after such episodes to put his arm around the sleeping form of his wife. Her presence had been a steady calm in his life since the day he laid eyes on her. Having her close made the word in general a better place. Except this time there was no waking from the horror. There was no peace to be found beside him. No familiar warmth to comfort him just an empty space on a cold hard floor and a flash flood of memories that barraged his mind cruelly. The immediate moment of realisation was spent mourning the loss of his wife as the memory of her naked body covered in blood caused an inexplicable amount of pain to swell and explode in his chest.
He felt the sting of tears and the white hot burn of loss and failure that rose like bile in his throat. He couldn’t save her. He couldn’t save himself.
Machk lay motionless for a moment as he calmed himself. If he was here, then he was not dead. Why had they let him live? They! Where were they. He listened for a little while and heard nothing. Perhaps they thought he was dead. How long had he been there? Minutes? Hours? Days? He had no idea. But he had to get the **** outta here. He moved slowly, still not sure as to where his wife’s murderer and co. were and instantly his eyes were drawn to the spot where he last saw her. Her blood still thick and heavy looking stained the dirty concrete. He closed his eyes quickly and turned his head away, recoiling from the painful slap of reality. He felt sick. Sick with despair and the feeling that whatever, if any, contents were left in his stomach would be surfacing soon. He needed to get away from here. And once he was…..he would return. He would find him and rip his ******* throat out.
Machk struggled to stand. His legs shook unsteadily beneath his attempts giving him the appearance of a newborn deer just learning how to walk. A large hand gripped at his chest, and fingers splayed against the pain. He would check it out later but for now getting out of here was his priority. The young male clambered clumsily back the way he remembered coming. If anyone was around they would have been on him in no time flat but ...no one came. He climbed through the window leaving all he had and all that ever mattered behind in the warehouse as he headed back to the wilderness. He was certain he could find that cave again. It was the best place he could think of to hide out for now. Somewhere he could heal and mourn the loss of his beautiful Kika. Somewhere he could plan his revenge.
Nightmare [Kitchi + Invite]
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Kitchi
- Registered User
- Posts: 100
- Joined: 26 Jun 2015, 00:42
Re: Nightmare [Kitchi + Invite]
Standing outside did not offer enough room to breathe without that bone gnawing pain hanging on and kicking in. The door of the beat up truck swung wide and tried to bounce back but a dark hand slapped it into submission. It stayed propped open while Kitchi leaned over and clenched his long fingers over the denim that covered his knees. The tall dark shadow of his body folded and the dance of the waist length strands of his obsidian hair was halted with the knotting of his right hand. He inhaled deeper than he ever had in his short life and with it he found the inspiration to expel the horrid contents of what was never going to sit well in his body.
The pork circles flew first bouncing and rolling across the dirt. the beans followed pretty much in the same fashion but didn’t roll. A loud grunt and the last of the chaser of spaghetti-o’s was a tomato based splatter that tied the rest of the mess together. Canned food was not his way. It was a sign he was already farther from home than he had ever been. His people didn’t consume canned food. Not those he considered family. They grew everything in their soil and even if they canned to preserve for winter the food items went into a jar. Not a can. The miles he had put between those he loved and lost were carrying consequences.
Paskus and Pitkawa. Everything that had happened in the last six months was taking its toll on him. He was feeling weaker with each new moon. It was like trying to run a marathon with the flu and expecting to keep up with the lead. He was running but he was doing it sitting on his *** driving aimlessly in the beat up pick up that now stood guard behind his doubled over body.
Another breath flowed in through his flaring nostrils and lips. He needed it. At some point if he took in enough of the air flowing with the scent of Canadian wilderness perhaps he could exhale it from his system. The fire was still burning in his belly when his spit what was left behind in his mouth. The burn was branding him layer by layer. It seared anything he attempted to ingest or inhale. He couldn’t feed his heart, his soul or his miserable gut. It was no surprise his lungs were out of the question. Strong it was and he knew exactly what was causing it. The woodland cree was dying of a broken heart.
Paskus was gone before their first winter as one could come. The weight of what was left upon his shoulders was growing too heavy to bear. The blood of two would forever be on his mind, name and hands. Grief flooded him. Kitchi was drowning in the pain of the loss and the ice cold that must have finally set in her veins had all but done the same in his own. She was imprinted upon every fiber of his being on that fateful night.
The night he pulled away from his mother’s grasp and ignored her pleas to leave the work of pulling Paskus from the lake to his father. He boldly refused. No man would carry his wife except for him. He put that in his head as soon as he took her as his mate. She was his to retrieve and carry back home. He had his ways and it was no surprise he raised a fist to his father when the aged man attempted to step in. Kitchi’s fist was held back and any further steps of his father's feet were also halted. Old, wise eyes on the edge of the lake watched him fade into the darkness with the sounds of the water splashing around his determined steps. Lined dark lips were silent as Kitchi walked past the weeping eyes and walked the miles back home.
The back of Kitchi’s hand wiped his mouth free of what was left and shook it from his fingers. The sounds of thunder rolled in the distance and now he knew it was going to be time to climb back into the metal cage that had been holding him prisoner on the open road to nowhere. His jeans glided across the wool blanket seat cover and the door rattled shut. That was when the headlights and the engine flickered and coughed.
“NO!” A loud growl of irritation sounded in support of his refusal to accept what was taking place.
It was only the beginning. The sound of hail pinging on the roof of the truck was enough to have his fist slamming upward as if that would change anything. His makeshift holder of random items came crashing down into his lap. Disgusted with what was left he shoved the driver’s door back open and slammed it shut once he was clear of it’s path. He needed the rain washing over him, he needed the sting of the hail pelting him and he needed the motion of his feet moving at increased speed carrying his body towards the darkness. The longer he ran the better he felt. He was leaving it all behind. There was nothing left. Nothing except a golf ball sized hail shooting from the angry sky above and threatening to knock him out if he ran any farther out in the open. He spotted a dark hole in a massive hill. If it was inhabited by something it was quickly getting unexpected company. He wasted no time nearly diving into the cave taking a few ice formed souvenirs with him. With a roll and painful thud against the dirt and stone encrusted wall he finally came to rest. He barely moved except to stretch out his long body and groan.
Kitchi was beyond tired and he wanted to go home. His self-imposed ways would never allow it to happen while on his feet or with his eyes open. He accepted this and was always prepared for the only option remaining to him. There was only way to get there. He closed his eyes as if he could afford to, as if there was not a damn thing in the world that could interrupt him. He would be home once again as soon as the sleep took his body and released him to his dreams. He was always home when they came.
The pork circles flew first bouncing and rolling across the dirt. the beans followed pretty much in the same fashion but didn’t roll. A loud grunt and the last of the chaser of spaghetti-o’s was a tomato based splatter that tied the rest of the mess together. Canned food was not his way. It was a sign he was already farther from home than he had ever been. His people didn’t consume canned food. Not those he considered family. They grew everything in their soil and even if they canned to preserve for winter the food items went into a jar. Not a can. The miles he had put between those he loved and lost were carrying consequences.
Paskus and Pitkawa. Everything that had happened in the last six months was taking its toll on him. He was feeling weaker with each new moon. It was like trying to run a marathon with the flu and expecting to keep up with the lead. He was running but he was doing it sitting on his *** driving aimlessly in the beat up pick up that now stood guard behind his doubled over body.
Another breath flowed in through his flaring nostrils and lips. He needed it. At some point if he took in enough of the air flowing with the scent of Canadian wilderness perhaps he could exhale it from his system. The fire was still burning in his belly when his spit what was left behind in his mouth. The burn was branding him layer by layer. It seared anything he attempted to ingest or inhale. He couldn’t feed his heart, his soul or his miserable gut. It was no surprise his lungs were out of the question. Strong it was and he knew exactly what was causing it. The woodland cree was dying of a broken heart.
Paskus was gone before their first winter as one could come. The weight of what was left upon his shoulders was growing too heavy to bear. The blood of two would forever be on his mind, name and hands. Grief flooded him. Kitchi was drowning in the pain of the loss and the ice cold that must have finally set in her veins had all but done the same in his own. She was imprinted upon every fiber of his being on that fateful night.
The night he pulled away from his mother’s grasp and ignored her pleas to leave the work of pulling Paskus from the lake to his father. He boldly refused. No man would carry his wife except for him. He put that in his head as soon as he took her as his mate. She was his to retrieve and carry back home. He had his ways and it was no surprise he raised a fist to his father when the aged man attempted to step in. Kitchi’s fist was held back and any further steps of his father's feet were also halted. Old, wise eyes on the edge of the lake watched him fade into the darkness with the sounds of the water splashing around his determined steps. Lined dark lips were silent as Kitchi walked past the weeping eyes and walked the miles back home.
The back of Kitchi’s hand wiped his mouth free of what was left and shook it from his fingers. The sounds of thunder rolled in the distance and now he knew it was going to be time to climb back into the metal cage that had been holding him prisoner on the open road to nowhere. His jeans glided across the wool blanket seat cover and the door rattled shut. That was when the headlights and the engine flickered and coughed.
“NO!” A loud growl of irritation sounded in support of his refusal to accept what was taking place.
It was only the beginning. The sound of hail pinging on the roof of the truck was enough to have his fist slamming upward as if that would change anything. His makeshift holder of random items came crashing down into his lap. Disgusted with what was left he shoved the driver’s door back open and slammed it shut once he was clear of it’s path. He needed the rain washing over him, he needed the sting of the hail pelting him and he needed the motion of his feet moving at increased speed carrying his body towards the darkness. The longer he ran the better he felt. He was leaving it all behind. There was nothing left. Nothing except a golf ball sized hail shooting from the angry sky above and threatening to knock him out if he ran any farther out in the open. He spotted a dark hole in a massive hill. If it was inhabited by something it was quickly getting unexpected company. He wasted no time nearly diving into the cave taking a few ice formed souvenirs with him. With a roll and painful thud against the dirt and stone encrusted wall he finally came to rest. He barely moved except to stretch out his long body and groan.
Kitchi was beyond tired and he wanted to go home. His self-imposed ways would never allow it to happen while on his feet or with his eyes open. He accepted this and was always prepared for the only option remaining to him. There was only way to get there. He closed his eyes as if he could afford to, as if there was not a damn thing in the world that could interrupt him. He would be home once again as soon as the sleep took his body and released him to his dreams. He was always home when they came.
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Machk
- Registered User
- Posts: 53
- Joined: 21 Jun 2015, 22:37
Re: Nightmare [Kitchi + Invite]
It was obvious from the moment that Machk stepped out into the night that the nightmare had only just begun. The air was heavier. The night was uglier and the putrid stench of life assaulted his senses. Where once was light and hope for for the future existed a grotesque parody of existence and a gaping abyss; A tear in the very fabric of his being left open and aching. The rain was still beating down in torrents but no amount of water was going to cleanse the brutal scourge that wrapped its filthy fingers about his heart and squeezed... If only he had been more insistent.
Every heavy step offered bone jarring pain as his booted feet thudded loudly against the concrete beneath them. They moved as fast as he could manage as Machk attempted to put as much distance between him and the warehouse as was humanly possible. Every wounded step carried him that much further away from the monsters that dwelt there but no amount of running could ever distance him from those images. They would haunt him until he once again slept in the arms of his love, even if only in spirit.
The rhythmic sound of his footfalls against the tarmac became a heartbeat that thudded resoundingly in his ears. The very same sound of the heart that beat wildly in the chest of the young boy who would hide beneath the sheets at night and listen to his mother beg for the beatings to stop. Whose small fingers twisted tightly in the finely woven threads that were pulled over his head like armour. It never worked. He could still hear her weeping into the wee hours of the morning until she fell asleep exhausted. Every tear that woman shed was mirrored in the eyes of the boy frozen by fear, consumed by hatred and exhausted by the weight his mother’s broken spirit upon his small shoulders.
He couldn’t save her. He couldn’t save either either of them. He ran then and he was running now. He clutched tightly at his chest, afraid that if he let go his ribs would break open and spill their contents at his feet. Eventually he would welcome death, eventually... but not yet. He would see his wife again and when he did it would be with the still beating heart of her killer in his hand as he begged her forgiveness.
“Kika.” Her named a strangled moan on his lips filled with regret and despair. She had saved him once. Saved him from a life of isolation and showed him that there was still beauty to be found if one wanted to look for it. She was every breath he ever needed to take and now she was gone. Brutally ripped away. What she must have gone through in those in those last few moments of life. His stomach lurched angrily and he stopped running.
Concrete had turned to earth and for the first time he realised it was still raining. Drops of water, heavy and round pounded against the leaves that had at some point covered the sky. He reached out to grab at a nearby trunk and his fingers curled and gripped tightly as he doubled over. His body protested violently and his shoulders shook with the effort as his stomach seemed intent on purging itself of contents long since digested though the attempt was futile and only offered more pain than comfort, forcing the man to his knees for the duration. Once the dry retching had subsided his stomach felt as empty as his soul, that same emptiness spreading like a fever that would soon over him respite from the pain that gripped and shattered both his body and spirit mercilessly. Over and over again.
He could have easily laid there and waited on death to find him but rage and hatred refused to allow that. Not just yet. They pulled him to his feet and urged him forward as Machk stumbled blindly through the wilderness not really caring where he ended up anymore. he barely even noticed the hail that fell heavily from above and bounced on the ground at his feet. The ground could literally open up and swallow him whole and he would be is grateful. Instinct or a subconscious desire to survive and avenge his wife lead him to the cave he had found for them earlier that night...or was it last night? Maybe longer? He had no idea when nor did he care. Knowing that wasn’t going to bring his wife back. Nothing was going to do that.
He stumbled into the small mouth of cave and fell to his knees once again. His clothes were soaked through and mud stained the knees of his jeans. His arms crossed over his stomach and he rolled forward until his forehead touch the soft damp earth as he squeezed his eyes shut. The promise of tears stung his eyes but even they refused to come and offer him that small amount of solace. He had failed her. He had failed them.
Suddenly his shoulders came up and his back arched. If his heart fell from the wound in his chest he no longer cared. He didn’t need it anymore. Dark brown lengths of hair clung to his face and and his eyes were empty as they were cast toward the skies. His hands turned into fists and the muscles beneath his skin rippled and tensed as they were thrown outward and he screamed his wife’s names into the night. The sound, a gut wrenching howl, filled with pain, pure and absolute, shattered the silence and echoed the torture of his heart unto the trees. The only witnesses to his suffering….or so he thought.
Every heavy step offered bone jarring pain as his booted feet thudded loudly against the concrete beneath them. They moved as fast as he could manage as Machk attempted to put as much distance between him and the warehouse as was humanly possible. Every wounded step carried him that much further away from the monsters that dwelt there but no amount of running could ever distance him from those images. They would haunt him until he once again slept in the arms of his love, even if only in spirit.
The rhythmic sound of his footfalls against the tarmac became a heartbeat that thudded resoundingly in his ears. The very same sound of the heart that beat wildly in the chest of the young boy who would hide beneath the sheets at night and listen to his mother beg for the beatings to stop. Whose small fingers twisted tightly in the finely woven threads that were pulled over his head like armour. It never worked. He could still hear her weeping into the wee hours of the morning until she fell asleep exhausted. Every tear that woman shed was mirrored in the eyes of the boy frozen by fear, consumed by hatred and exhausted by the weight his mother’s broken spirit upon his small shoulders.
He couldn’t save her. He couldn’t save either either of them. He ran then and he was running now. He clutched tightly at his chest, afraid that if he let go his ribs would break open and spill their contents at his feet. Eventually he would welcome death, eventually... but not yet. He would see his wife again and when he did it would be with the still beating heart of her killer in his hand as he begged her forgiveness.
“Kika.” Her named a strangled moan on his lips filled with regret and despair. She had saved him once. Saved him from a life of isolation and showed him that there was still beauty to be found if one wanted to look for it. She was every breath he ever needed to take and now she was gone. Brutally ripped away. What she must have gone through in those in those last few moments of life. His stomach lurched angrily and he stopped running.
Concrete had turned to earth and for the first time he realised it was still raining. Drops of water, heavy and round pounded against the leaves that had at some point covered the sky. He reached out to grab at a nearby trunk and his fingers curled and gripped tightly as he doubled over. His body protested violently and his shoulders shook with the effort as his stomach seemed intent on purging itself of contents long since digested though the attempt was futile and only offered more pain than comfort, forcing the man to his knees for the duration. Once the dry retching had subsided his stomach felt as empty as his soul, that same emptiness spreading like a fever that would soon over him respite from the pain that gripped and shattered both his body and spirit mercilessly. Over and over again.
He could have easily laid there and waited on death to find him but rage and hatred refused to allow that. Not just yet. They pulled him to his feet and urged him forward as Machk stumbled blindly through the wilderness not really caring where he ended up anymore. he barely even noticed the hail that fell heavily from above and bounced on the ground at his feet. The ground could literally open up and swallow him whole and he would be is grateful. Instinct or a subconscious desire to survive and avenge his wife lead him to the cave he had found for them earlier that night...or was it last night? Maybe longer? He had no idea when nor did he care. Knowing that wasn’t going to bring his wife back. Nothing was going to do that.
He stumbled into the small mouth of cave and fell to his knees once again. His clothes were soaked through and mud stained the knees of his jeans. His arms crossed over his stomach and he rolled forward until his forehead touch the soft damp earth as he squeezed his eyes shut. The promise of tears stung his eyes but even they refused to come and offer him that small amount of solace. He had failed her. He had failed them.
Suddenly his shoulders came up and his back arched. If his heart fell from the wound in his chest he no longer cared. He didn’t need it anymore. Dark brown lengths of hair clung to his face and and his eyes were empty as they were cast toward the skies. His hands turned into fists and the muscles beneath his skin rippled and tensed as they were thrown outward and he screamed his wife’s names into the night. The sound, a gut wrenching howl, filled with pain, pure and absolute, shattered the silence and echoed the torture of his heart unto the trees. The only witnesses to his suffering….or so he thought.
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Kitchi
- Registered User
- Posts: 100
- Joined: 26 Jun 2015, 00:42
Re: Nightmare [Kitchi + Invite]
The scent of lavender oil soothed Kitchi as he breathed in deep. Paskus wore it so well at the tips of her fingers and wrists. It was there for a purpose. He knew his mate so well. She had been in the garden earlier and he could tell. She also had been cutting wood. Her wrists were sore from chopping and her fingertips were dry and cracked from gathering in the vast garden. Lavender oil that she had prepared would soothe both as it always had. Gingerly he pressed a comforting kiss to each that floated up found their way to his waiting lips.
Small hints of wood burning clung to her hair as the silken strands slipped through his long fingers. He could count every strand as it drifted downward to land in the cradle of her bare cinnamon skin below him. His face leaned in gently so his parted lips could glide over the crook of her neck. The tip of his tongue traveled slowly over the hard line of her collar bone so he could savor the salt on the surface of her sweet skin. Another sign of hope presented itself in the form of a soft hiss signaling heavenly flesh was sliding across his sinful own. He was undeserving and he was well aware of it the first time he ever put his hands upon her.
Like a thief and a beggar Kitchi was desperate to venture further to hear her symphony of sounds in his ears. He felt her moving beneath him and held his breath while the pads of his fingers pressed firmly at the hips nestled perfectly against the palms of his hands. He locked down with his grip slow and easy. He could never bear the thought of hurting her no matter had deep his urge to take her grew. If it was possible to ever get enough of her against him he had not achieved it yet. Being her chosen lover alone had taught him a wealth of patience and discipline over his appetites. He would never master her but she had already consumed him in his countless attempts. He only wanted her more each time their bodies joined. Paskus was his lifeline, his heartbeat as a mortal man.
As gentle as an unexpected summer night breeze the sounds of Paskus’ pleasure drifted across his cheek and ear. He could never take her voice for granted. He slid his right hand beneath her neck and weaved with the wealth of hair that greeted it. His fingers curled at her nape and his thumb caressed the high prominent cheekbone beneath it while he guided her face up to come a breath away from his own. Warm sepia orbs exerted their power over him and he paused right there. He was instantly powerless. She held him prisoner with her focus and he prayed then and there like he did every time that she would never let him go. Kitchi was free man who gladly was captured and owned by his queen’s heart. His lips surrendered to the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. Her hips lifted and the sensation she brought to him had him trying to find another breath to replace the one she just claimed with her movements.
As Kitchi was ready to merge with Paskus he was roused by a blood curdling howl of what he could only attribute to his ache for the very woman that was now fading quickly from his hands. His sluggish hands lifted to try to catch her but it was too late. The damp night air left him with empty hands as his fingers curled up into fists. His eyes didn't open as he rolled to his hands and knees while the sound continued. The dryness of his lips cracking as they parted alerted him to the fact it was not his voice that was making the guttural cry. A sense of alarm and defense ricocheted through his body jolting him to open his eyes. His hand reached behind his back to pull out the one blade that never left his body. His nostrils widened to make room for all the signs that the summer night would give him to work with. His eyes grew quickly then narrowed trying to make something out of the barely discernable shadow that was at the opening of the cave.
Was it a bear? It sounded like it was wounded.
Kitchi snorted out the exhale of a less than confirming breath. Deeper he inhaled again and this time the faint hints of the majestic beast and king of the woods revealed itself to him but there was something more. So much more as the howl of unfathomable pain rattled the walls earthen walls around him. He brought his blade out in front of him. He didn't want to have to use it or the hand that held it. There was enough blood of both beast and man on him that he was still finding difficulty washing off. More was not needed but if pressed he would wear more. His heart had perhaps been in the process of dying but it took far more than that to break him as a man or set him free.
Small hints of wood burning clung to her hair as the silken strands slipped through his long fingers. He could count every strand as it drifted downward to land in the cradle of her bare cinnamon skin below him. His face leaned in gently so his parted lips could glide over the crook of her neck. The tip of his tongue traveled slowly over the hard line of her collar bone so he could savor the salt on the surface of her sweet skin. Another sign of hope presented itself in the form of a soft hiss signaling heavenly flesh was sliding across his sinful own. He was undeserving and he was well aware of it the first time he ever put his hands upon her.
Like a thief and a beggar Kitchi was desperate to venture further to hear her symphony of sounds in his ears. He felt her moving beneath him and held his breath while the pads of his fingers pressed firmly at the hips nestled perfectly against the palms of his hands. He locked down with his grip slow and easy. He could never bear the thought of hurting her no matter had deep his urge to take her grew. If it was possible to ever get enough of her against him he had not achieved it yet. Being her chosen lover alone had taught him a wealth of patience and discipline over his appetites. He would never master her but she had already consumed him in his countless attempts. He only wanted her more each time their bodies joined. Paskus was his lifeline, his heartbeat as a mortal man.
As gentle as an unexpected summer night breeze the sounds of Paskus’ pleasure drifted across his cheek and ear. He could never take her voice for granted. He slid his right hand beneath her neck and weaved with the wealth of hair that greeted it. His fingers curled at her nape and his thumb caressed the high prominent cheekbone beneath it while he guided her face up to come a breath away from his own. Warm sepia orbs exerted their power over him and he paused right there. He was instantly powerless. She held him prisoner with her focus and he prayed then and there like he did every time that she would never let him go. Kitchi was free man who gladly was captured and owned by his queen’s heart. His lips surrendered to the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. Her hips lifted and the sensation she brought to him had him trying to find another breath to replace the one she just claimed with her movements.
As Kitchi was ready to merge with Paskus he was roused by a blood curdling howl of what he could only attribute to his ache for the very woman that was now fading quickly from his hands. His sluggish hands lifted to try to catch her but it was too late. The damp night air left him with empty hands as his fingers curled up into fists. His eyes didn't open as he rolled to his hands and knees while the sound continued. The dryness of his lips cracking as they parted alerted him to the fact it was not his voice that was making the guttural cry. A sense of alarm and defense ricocheted through his body jolting him to open his eyes. His hand reached behind his back to pull out the one blade that never left his body. His nostrils widened to make room for all the signs that the summer night would give him to work with. His eyes grew quickly then narrowed trying to make something out of the barely discernable shadow that was at the opening of the cave.
Was it a bear? It sounded like it was wounded.
Kitchi snorted out the exhale of a less than confirming breath. Deeper he inhaled again and this time the faint hints of the majestic beast and king of the woods revealed itself to him but there was something more. So much more as the howl of unfathomable pain rattled the walls earthen walls around him. He brought his blade out in front of him. He didn't want to have to use it or the hand that held it. There was enough blood of both beast and man on him that he was still finding difficulty washing off. More was not needed but if pressed he would wear more. His heart had perhaps been in the process of dying but it took far more than that to break him as a man or set him free.
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Machk
- Registered User
- Posts: 53
- Joined: 21 Jun 2015, 22:37
Re: Nightmare [Kitchi + Invite]
Machk collapsed back on his haunches and his shoulders slumped heavily beneath the weight of despair. His hands fell to his sides and hung lifelessly against the wet earth. Long, saturated strands of hair shrouded his face as his head fell forward. His chin rest against his chest which remained still and empty. For all it mattered he could stay there and never move again. Simply fall asleep and wait for her to come and take him. Death he was not afraid of. Facing the future without his wife terrified him. There were no words to describe the emptiness that consumed him and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t wipe the image of her from his mind. The pain. The anger. The hopelessness was absolute and wrapped him in its cold and lonely embrace. Rain water rolled over his face, emulating the tears that he wished for. Even that small comfort was denied him.
Machk searched his mind for every precious memory that he had of her. The first day that he saw her. That afternoon that he asked her out for the very first time. The way he walked away so very casually and stopped to fist pump the air once out of sight. Their first kiss. The nights that he spent in her arms. Their wedding day. The way her smile could light up even the darkest of nights. The feel of her hair as it slipped through his fingers. The way she would tease him. The way she would make everything better with a few words. How even at his worst she would be his rock. How fragile she felt when the world would beat her down and she would curl up in his arms. The way her tears could bring him to his knees. Every precious moment of their time together played out in vivid detail on the back of his eyelids.
His muddied fingers curled into his fists. He would make them pay. All of them. They would know the pain and the anguish of his soul before the peace of death claimed them. Then and only then would be free to join her. Life without her was….not an option. Happiness would never find him. Not in this world. But vengeance, while it wouldn’t bring her back, would certainly sate the rage and grant him that tiny restitution.
A subtle shift in the air behind caused Machk to stiffen, his senses going into overdrive. It wasn’t so much a noise that caught his attention but more a subtle shifting in the air. His eyes opened and stared straight ahead; Empty, soulless and oozing hatred. Machk was a man with nothing left to lose and should the spirits wish his demise before retribution was exacted then so it would be. The sooner he would be reunited with his wife.
His movements were quicker than that of the average human though he was unaware of such. The motion caused pain to rip through his chest but he welcome it. That raw, physical pain was better than the abysmal hollowness that had possessed him. He crouched at the ready, every bit the hunter he had become, and stared into the darkness, ready for whatever might come at him. The only weapon he possessed was left behind so already the odds of him winning this fight, whether it be bear or mountain lion, were against him. Yet, a small smile curled the corners of his mouth ever so slightly when he started yelling into the depths of the cave like a mad man. “COME ON! DO IT! I’M RIGHT HERE!” If he hadn’t woken every predator in the near vicinity before, surely they were stirring now. His fists thudded against his chest. A primal yet aggressive invitation. “Do IT!”
Machk searched his mind for every precious memory that he had of her. The first day that he saw her. That afternoon that he asked her out for the very first time. The way he walked away so very casually and stopped to fist pump the air once out of sight. Their first kiss. The nights that he spent in her arms. Their wedding day. The way her smile could light up even the darkest of nights. The feel of her hair as it slipped through his fingers. The way she would tease him. The way she would make everything better with a few words. How even at his worst she would be his rock. How fragile she felt when the world would beat her down and she would curl up in his arms. The way her tears could bring him to his knees. Every precious moment of their time together played out in vivid detail on the back of his eyelids.
His muddied fingers curled into his fists. He would make them pay. All of them. They would know the pain and the anguish of his soul before the peace of death claimed them. Then and only then would be free to join her. Life without her was….not an option. Happiness would never find him. Not in this world. But vengeance, while it wouldn’t bring her back, would certainly sate the rage and grant him that tiny restitution.
A subtle shift in the air behind caused Machk to stiffen, his senses going into overdrive. It wasn’t so much a noise that caught his attention but more a subtle shifting in the air. His eyes opened and stared straight ahead; Empty, soulless and oozing hatred. Machk was a man with nothing left to lose and should the spirits wish his demise before retribution was exacted then so it would be. The sooner he would be reunited with his wife.
His movements were quicker than that of the average human though he was unaware of such. The motion caused pain to rip through his chest but he welcome it. That raw, physical pain was better than the abysmal hollowness that had possessed him. He crouched at the ready, every bit the hunter he had become, and stared into the darkness, ready for whatever might come at him. The only weapon he possessed was left behind so already the odds of him winning this fight, whether it be bear or mountain lion, were against him. Yet, a small smile curled the corners of his mouth ever so slightly when he started yelling into the depths of the cave like a mad man. “COME ON! DO IT! I’M RIGHT HERE!” If he hadn’t woken every predator in the near vicinity before, surely they were stirring now. His fists thudded against his chest. A primal yet aggressive invitation. “Do IT!”
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Kitchi
- Registered User
- Posts: 100
- Joined: 26 Jun 2015, 00:42
Re: Nightmare [Kitchi + Invite]
Words roared to the point the hard soled boots beneath Kitchi’s feet felt as if they were vibrating. It was likely all in his head except for the unexpected loud challenge. Stepping up slowly with the blade in his grip he went over the scenarios he could possibly expect and those he could safely eliminate being prepared for. The odds were clearly a draw on the first round. Of course he could handle his own and then some. But without seeing what he was coming up against it was not a garantee. He was ready to bet it was some crack head or veneous highway junkie losing his mind after sending more into their inner freeway than they counted on. Who else would roll into a cave and bellow out at the darkness to take them on?
The thought of a big old bear had been quickly erased. The sounds were powerful and loud but last he checked bears didn't ask for you to step up and accept the invite for a throw down. So a junkie it was. The world was better off without them. Their weaknesses were becoming a world plague. He wasn’t interested in saving it. He just wanted his cave back and his dreams. Paskus was waiting and there was not many hours left of the darkness that bound them for eternity.
“Not sure what the problem is but you are getting only one warning. Your war has better odds if you take it outside and go back to where you came from.” Kitchi was firmly stepping towards the opening of the cave where the perceived drug filled body was screaming for some sort of twisted mercy. Just to be fair he issued one last reminder in case the first warnings did not quite sink in. “If not I will give you a lift and make everything clear as can be the hard way. Need to find another cave, son. You are not welcome here.”
Kitchi appeared from the darkness and finally set eyes on the last sight he would have expected. A very angry and tormented male who looked anything but loaded. Dark eyes sparkled from the limited flashes of distant lightning delivering bursts of light to clarify the vision of an enraged stranger blocking his way to getting out if needed. Suddenly he didn't need the cave all that bad. The man that had been bellowing to the heavens above appeared to be in a lot worse shape. The rain and golf ball sized hail was no big thing. A man's spirit breaking was far more unpredictable, violent and personal.
The thought of a big old bear had been quickly erased. The sounds were powerful and loud but last he checked bears didn't ask for you to step up and accept the invite for a throw down. So a junkie it was. The world was better off without them. Their weaknesses were becoming a world plague. He wasn’t interested in saving it. He just wanted his cave back and his dreams. Paskus was waiting and there was not many hours left of the darkness that bound them for eternity.
“Not sure what the problem is but you are getting only one warning. Your war has better odds if you take it outside and go back to where you came from.” Kitchi was firmly stepping towards the opening of the cave where the perceived drug filled body was screaming for some sort of twisted mercy. Just to be fair he issued one last reminder in case the first warnings did not quite sink in. “If not I will give you a lift and make everything clear as can be the hard way. Need to find another cave, son. You are not welcome here.”
Kitchi appeared from the darkness and finally set eyes on the last sight he would have expected. A very angry and tormented male who looked anything but loaded. Dark eyes sparkled from the limited flashes of distant lightning delivering bursts of light to clarify the vision of an enraged stranger blocking his way to getting out if needed. Suddenly he didn't need the cave all that bad. The man that had been bellowing to the heavens above appeared to be in a lot worse shape. The rain and golf ball sized hail was no big thing. A man's spirit breaking was far more unpredictable, violent and personal.