Post by CASPER on Aug 20, 2005 15:59:09 GMT -5
~* Winds of Change *~
He stands motionless, still as death..
Just as the neon green sky lays still above him.
He stands upon the mountain, drinking in it's vista,
letting his eyes roll over the planes of scarlet pines that stretch out below him,
he thinks to him self
"When did the winds change ?"
His name is Tool.
He is booth more and less than Human.
Tool is a hunter of human flesh & darkest raw emotion..
So few humans remain now,
His thirst grows wide as a festering wound
&
deep as an empty salted well...
The cold stars above give no hint of his prey
as Tool sniffs the still night air..
Tool senses only his own growing frustration
as he rests his blackish red eyes upon the blood hued forest
that rolls down the mountain,
toward a ruined city below where Human beings once lived.
Until again, the wind begins to change
&
the scent of human flesh once more is gathered from the air,
it flows into Tools nostrils like a, lusty, black memory.
"When was it he had last tasted Human fear,
flesh, blood & hatred ?.."
Tool hides among the brambled leafy winter shrubs spying for the owner of that tasty human aroma..
"Yes" his teeth begin to sweat...
His cold black heart surges..
Anticipation is his Opiate!
The drug for witch his Veins would ever throb for more, More!...
His lust can find no solace paster
nor grave so deep that it could rest with in.
A storm is brewing
&
the wind borne vapor of warm blood is it's herald, sweeping, tempting...
"Gruuummmph!", Tools soul cries with desire.
Yet Tool knows he will wait..
"Oh sweet hunger!"..
Then the moment comes...
"Wait !!.. What prize is this ?!"
"Ahhh... It - is - a- child !!..."
"Ooh Yes !" Tool trembles at the vary thought.
A sweet innocent little red haired girl.
"Emmmmmm"...
Tools wicked eyes roll back in rapture....
Oh, but he waits....
"Surely a child
in such a lonely place as this
must have a mother ?"
The red haired lass comes in to view,
skipping through the snow,
watching it fly in the growing breeze
as she hums a soft, gentle song.
Tools lips curl in an unholy smile.
Then he hears it. "another sweet treat approaches.."
"Emma! Emma honey ? wait, don't go to far baby..."
" Oh yes !" Tools thirst is delicious..
Tool had been tracking a woodsmen
who it seems had ventured too close to the old city ruins
at the base of these lonely mountains.
Tool had hunted the woodsman, Toying with him,
following, always in the shadows
&
from the cover of the forest brush.
Yes, Tool could have taken that human prey at any time..,
But no....
That was never the way of one who hunts with a hateful lust so born of an inhuman heart.
No, Tool had tracked that woodsman for miles,
through the crimson mountain woods,
always unseen
&
only heard, when Tool, would wish the woodsman to hear him.
"Oh the wondrous sent of sweat that flows from human terror."
Tool would force the woodsman to pause in it's tracks,
to crouch & hide,
always watchful for the cause of it's primal ,human fear......
At times the woodsman would cringe behind a tree for seemingly endless hours,
trembling from the cold
&
ever present unseen horror..
The woodsman's heart would remain silent to all the world,
save for the cruel senses of "Tool, The flesh & soul eater ",
who patiently waited, tracking his victims sent.
Tool waited bleeding his own lust into the night air...
Until the winds had changed
&
the woodsman finally had slipped away.
{ End part 1}
He stands motionless, still as death..
Just as the neon green sky lays still above him.
He stands upon the mountain, drinking in it's vista,
letting his eyes roll over the planes of scarlet pines that stretch out below him,
he thinks to him self
"When did the winds change ?"
His name is Tool.
He is booth more and less than Human.
Tool is a hunter of human flesh & darkest raw emotion..
So few humans remain now,
His thirst grows wide as a festering wound
&
deep as an empty salted well...
The cold stars above give no hint of his prey
as Tool sniffs the still night air..
Tool senses only his own growing frustration
as he rests his blackish red eyes upon the blood hued forest
that rolls down the mountain,
toward a ruined city below where Human beings once lived.
Until again, the wind begins to change
&
the scent of human flesh once more is gathered from the air,
it flows into Tools nostrils like a, lusty, black memory.
"When was it he had last tasted Human fear,
flesh, blood & hatred ?.."
Tool hides among the brambled leafy winter shrubs spying for the owner of that tasty human aroma..
"Yes" his teeth begin to sweat...
His cold black heart surges..
Anticipation is his Opiate!
The drug for witch his Veins would ever throb for more, More!...
His lust can find no solace paster
nor grave so deep that it could rest with in.
A storm is brewing
&
the wind borne vapor of warm blood is it's herald, sweeping, tempting...
"Gruuummmph!", Tools soul cries with desire.
Yet Tool knows he will wait..
"Oh sweet hunger!"..
Then the moment comes...
"Wait !!.. What prize is this ?!"
"Ahhh... It - is - a- child !!..."
"Ooh Yes !" Tool trembles at the vary thought.
A sweet innocent little red haired girl.
"Emmmmmm"...
Tools wicked eyes roll back in rapture....
Oh, but he waits....
"Surely a child
in such a lonely place as this
must have a mother ?"
The red haired lass comes in to view,
skipping through the snow,
watching it fly in the growing breeze
as she hums a soft, gentle song.
Tools lips curl in an unholy smile.
Then he hears it. "another sweet treat approaches.."
"Emma! Emma honey ? wait, don't go to far baby..."
" Oh yes !" Tools thirst is delicious..
Tool had been tracking a woodsmen
who it seems had ventured too close to the old city ruins
at the base of these lonely mountains.
Tool had hunted the woodsman, Toying with him,
following, always in the shadows
&
from the cover of the forest brush.
Yes, Tool could have taken that human prey at any time..,
But no....
That was never the way of one who hunts with a hateful lust so born of an inhuman heart.
No, Tool had tracked that woodsman for miles,
through the crimson mountain woods,
always unseen
&
only heard, when Tool, would wish the woodsman to hear him.
"Oh the wondrous sent of sweat that flows from human terror."
Tool would force the woodsman to pause in it's tracks,
to crouch & hide,
always watchful for the cause of it's primal ,human fear......
At times the woodsman would cringe behind a tree for seemingly endless hours,
trembling from the cold
&
ever present unseen horror..
The woodsman's heart would remain silent to all the world,
save for the cruel senses of "Tool, The flesh & soul eater ",
who patiently waited, tracking his victims sent.
Tool waited bleeding his own lust into the night air...
Until the winds had changed
&
the woodsman finally had slipped away.
{ End part 1}