Ravenous Hatred

“I think you have heard enough of this story,” the father told the son. “I mean, if I read it all to you now, there will be nothing to read you tomorrow.”

The son tugged at the fathers sleeve.

“Don’t,” the father warned. “You know I won’t hesitate in putting you to sleep.”

The son released his sleeve and the father left the room. I looked back his child and scowled. He wished his son would talk, would fight back. However, it seemed that his only child would forever be the one who quits and goes home. With bitter thoughts, the father closed the door to his sons room, leaving him in darkness.

The son stared at his space-themed wallpaper, eyes drifting from the shelves that contained nothing but papers. Finally, his eyes settled on the closet. The son saw no evil within, no deadly creatures and could not understand why his friends were so scared of the closet.

Collecting his thoughts, thinking on the few sentences that his father read, the son turned onto his side and faced the window. Sleep seemed to come quickly tonight and before the son knew it, he was wrapped in the surreal folds of night and dreams. However, something far sinister called deeper in the veil.

Not knowing what was good or bad, let alone purest evil, the son was drawn to the source. Swallowed by the world of chaos, the darkness turned crimson and the son fell into the plain of torment. There was nobody to save the child in his descent and the craggy rocks seemed to welcome him as he descended towards their expecting points.

However, that would be a mercy that hell would not offer. The rocks parted, a slope of ash and sand welcomed the child with a lot more grace. The son tumbled down the slope, rolling beneath the rock into tunnel.

For the longest moment, the son lay there, appearing dead. However, this was no dream of the present and the creatures of torment did not notice him so easily. The hordes marched past the entrance of the cave, barely glancing over the spot where the child lay, only seeing dust.

With a soft groan, the child began to rise, waking from the pain that enveloped his mind. Unused to his first vision, not expecting such suffering to accompany a ‘dream’. Still, the son had risen and with each second he gathered the strength to lift his body and stand stronger. Finally, opening his eyes to see what the underworld had to offer him.

At first, it was fear.

The walls were a grim red, not painted, but sculpted from the dried gore of the damned. The sky was filled with clouds, cracked by fire and lightning. A fitting, everlasting storm for the land of death and mayhem. However, none of these details could compare to the creatures that the son saw walking past the cave.

Bony creatures which stood tall, bearing the skulls lacking in flesh, but not in meat. Their eyes appeared white, as white as the son’s mother’s eyes. However, the creatures that should be dead in the son’s mind, walked.

Some were covered in flesh, the horn of bones breaking the skin crudely and their bodies built to inflict pain. Teeth, some sharp enough to rip and tear, others flat for crushing.

The creatures hissed, grunted, chanted and even laughed. The sounds they made grew loud and low, almost melodic in a chaotic sense.

None of these sounds were pleasant, none were soft, all were sinister.

Fear held the child in place, kept him stationary, but it revealed his presence. Some creatures stopped, smelling the scent and hearing the heart-beat, but looking into the cave they saw nothing. Their eyes may have deceived them, but their other sense held strong.

The creatures entered the cave, their darting eyes and noses. The son could see they had no clue he was there and in a naive state of flight, the child tip-toed away, keeping his distance and moving around them. With this in mind, the child's fear lessened, but only enough to hide him once more.

Creeping past the hordes, avoiding there march. There seemed to be a strange throb of power in this world, a beat of a black heart deep in it all. The creatures were moved by its intensity and the child could feel it as well. However, he was still coaxed forward by the desire to survive.

With small strides, the child ran towards a part of the world that lacked such creatures. However, it was hard to find such a place of such respite. Instead, the child found himself nearing a cliff's edge, a cliff that overlooked the heart of the world.

It was indeed black, but not the natural black that you could find in the world. It was the black of shadow made manifest in this cruel rock. The child thought this, but was something he had yet to discover. It was the black glass of lava. Crawling out of the chasms were these creatures, terrible monsters that gave meaning to horror.

However, it was a nightmare that would soon end, changing the child for the better of the world, but it was a damage that would stay with the child. It was time to leave, the horror made real. The child was pulled off the cliff into the fiery chasm between the red plain and the black glass. Consumed by the fires of evil only for them to extinguish in the spirit of the child.

The pits of hell felt a fury that their ever-burning fire wavered in. The demons that occupied this world felt this presence and in a moment, it was gone.

“What is that noise?” the father yelled, entering the son’s bedroom.

His aggression was only momentary as he soon noticed the broken window and his son’s empty bed. Fearing the worst, he father ran to the window and stared out at the lawn. There he saw his pulling glass from his body without expressing as he walked back to the front door.

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