 Posted:
Sun Apr 01, 2007 9:39 pm |
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There is something about the hunt... the heightened senses, the quickening heartbeat, the absolute stillness as I wait for my prey, for my moment... the violent satisfaction as their blood soaks into the ground and my hunger is lessened, if only for a moment.
My first kill was one of frantic self defense. Shaking, bloody and gasping I ran naked for the edge of town, knowing that if I were caught I would be put to death without trial. There was no mercy for whores in that place, even if they were only children.
I kept to the shadows as my bare feet slapped against the cobbled stones of the nearly deserted streets, and felt dry dirt cake the still wet blood on my body as I ran through newly harvested fields. I did not hesitate at the edge of the forest, but plowed on through the undergrowth, my terror and pain urging me ever forward.
I finally collapsed beneath the roots of a massive oak tree, my frantic flight giving way to exhaustion and deep wracking sobs. I still held the knife in my hand... I remember looking at it and thinking how out of place such a large blade looked in my small child's hand, and how utterly comfortable I felt holding it.
Eventually my tears subsided and I surrendered to a deep sleep. My dreams were troubled, filled with images of my nearly decapitated victim and fountains of blood. There was a raven with bloodied feathers, its red eye observing all impassively, growing and growing until I was drowning in the crimson orb.
A snarl woke me... an animal I could not recognize crouched at the entrance to my little cave in the roots, its teeth bared and vicious. I felt no terror at the sight of it; instead, I remember a stillness I had never felt before come over me, and every sound came clear and every scent turned sharp and every muscle in my body was tuned to my slightest command. For the second time that night, I would kill or be killed, and my mind, ever focused on survival, tapped into the beast that dwells in us all.
I killed that animal, whatever it was. I sated my hunger with its raw flesh and quenched my thirst with its blood, and I drew its gory hide about me for warmth as I drifted back to sleep. To this day, I still do not know the nature of this beast that unlocked the hunter in me. It was the first of many as I spent the next three years roaming those woods like an animal, clutching my heavy blade and stalking my prey in deadly silence.
There are many motivations for murder... anger, jealousy, greed, lust for power. In that forest, I became trained by the forces of survival in the art of killing without feeling, of taking life with no moral qualms to disquiet your silence. It would not be until three years after that fateful night that I would come across the one who would finally drive me to kill for passion, and change the course of my life in ways that perhaps only that raven in my dreams could have forseen.
But that, my friend, is a tale for another day. |
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Anonymous
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