Horror logo

The Wings of Fate

It is only a matter of time.

By Seth MaurizzioPublished 3 years ago 10 min read
Like

It had to be this way, didn’t it? The only thing that could have changed this is if you had kept your damn mouth shut. Now, look at where we are. All thanks to you. Are you happy now? You’ve never known when to stop talking. That’s been your biggest weakness since the day I met you. That trait sure has gotten you into a lot of sticky situations and I’m not surprised to see that it is the very thing that has led to your downfall. Because of your running mouth, you’ve landed yourself right here, in my arms, covered in blood and dust.

While this isn’t ideal for you, it is something that I have been dreaming about. This exact moment right here, right now. It is as if I am looking at a painting in a museum: your bloody hands scrambling to reach my throat, my knife etched into the side of your neck and carving your skin like a Thanksgiving turkey, your wispy and pathetic gasps of protest as you fail to stop me from plunging another dagger into your chest. I always knew it would end right here, just like this. It was all your own doing, wasn’t it? I have always craved this moment, pictured the look on your face when you realized that I wasn’t who I told you I was. Reveling in the betrayal is part of my fun. Maybe this isn’t exactly the way I thought you would die. There were many options for killing you. I thought of plenty. I wondered, at one point, what my hands would feel like wrapped around your neck like a vice grip, squeezing the life right out of you. Similar to juicing an orange, I thought: deliciously sweet, with a bit of sting. I considered poison for a time, thinking of that satisfying feeling I would get from watching you choke in front of me, helpless and squirming. Every minute you spent dying, you would know that it was me. That I was the one to bring you to this point, this breathless and heated end. Perhaps the death you will receive is good enough. But you just had to snoop around, of course, ruining any other plans in the process. You ruined the fun by poking in places you don’t belong in, so I had to slit your throat instead. A messy job, yes, but you left me with no other choice. Luckily enough for me, I still get to watch the life drain from your eyes, and I am going to savor every bite of it. Every bite of satisfaction will slither down my throat, chased with your blood so that I can taste and relish every ounce of your demise. Just remember that this is what you deserve. This is what I deserve.

I look down at your delicate face, mouth parted slightly, small breaths still huffing from your cold lips. Blood covers your skin from your struggle and I cannot help but laugh at how ridiculous you look. I hope the last thing you hear before you die is my laughter. With one hand holding you in my lap, I use the other to grip your jaw between my fingers and I lean down slowly to look into your eyes.

“The world wasn’t made for people like you,” I whisper sweetly, feeling your wheezing breath against my cheek. “That is why I have to take you out of it.” And with one last, swift movement, I grab the handle of the dagger still buried in your chest and rip it out, blood gushing from the now brilliantly red wound. Both hands now gripping the knife, I sink it once more into the middle of your chest, laughter wracking my rib cage as I finally watch your eyes darken. Your body goes limp and I pull out the knife for the last time before dropping it beside me. Your hair lays sprawled across my jeans in a nestled mess, dark red trails of blood still dripping from the gashes on your neck and chest. I take a moment to reflect on the events of the night, while it was not perfect like I had planned, it was still a night to remember. After wiping my hands off on a rag, I dip one of my fingers into the large hole in your chest, sinking it in deep to coat the appendage completely. I examine it and place the finger in my mouth, sucking the blood off of my skin, the taste of iron and oak heavy on my tongue. I give a wide smile, showing teeth and all, in a show of glorious victory.

With a quick shove, I heave your body off my lap and onto the hardwood floor of the barn, a hefty thud sounding through the hollow room. I stand slowly and turn to look out of the large open doors and wipe the blood and dust off of my hands. The sky is just starting to darken, fluffy white clouds barely visible among the black and blue atmosphere. When darkness fully blankets the sky, I light the torches along the walls of the barn, illuminating the empty room. The shadows from the pillars dance along the wall in the flickering light. I can hear the rain falling on the roof gently, creating a rhythmic sound that feels like music. I get a bit lost in the sound, but a creaking from behind me breaks me from my daze. I glance around, seeing nothing but my tools and a few stray pieces of hay scattered about the floor. Deciding to ignore it, I start preparing my station. I lay out a large tarp in the middle of the room and, once it is flat, I carefully lift your body into the middle of it and then strip off your clothing. A giggle bubbles in my throat when I pick up the ax from outside the barn door. What a joyous occasion! It’s not every day you get to dismantle a body.

Ax in hand, I begin hacking away at your extremities, blood splattering all over the ground and myself. The worst part of dismembering someone is that most of the time they aren’t awake for the process. Hearing their screams is one of the most rewarding parts, but unfortunately, they never last long. Blood loss will do that to a person. I hum my favorite tune as I chop away at your limbs, skin and small pieces of muscle plopping onto the floor next to the rest of your body. The rain outside begins to pick up, thunder following in its tracks. All of the noise blocks out the sound of your cracking and splintering bones. It almost sounds like an intense drum solo, leading up to the finale of a concerto.

When I’ve finished my work, I take a deep breath and push the last of the energy I had into the exhale. I drop to my knees in front of your bleeding and bludgeoned corpse, wiping my brow. Blood smears across my skin in a thick line as I do. I can smell the sweetness of it mixed with my bitter sweat. I gaze down at the dismembered limbs in front of me, unable to help but lick at my chapped lips. Small sparks of happiness burst inside my stomach. I don’t get to feed like this too often, so I guess I owe you a small bit of gratitude for your sacrifice.

I place my hands on either side of my knees, bracing myself. My eyes roll back as my jaw starts to slowly shift, the joints popping out of their sockets and opening wider. The skin on my jaw and throat begins to peel back, making room for my extending mandible. As I lean back my head, my jaw unhinges, leaving my mouth open agape, rows of jagged and sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light. I jerk my hand forwards, grabbing the first limb that comes in contact with my fingertips. I lift it to my throat, lurching my tongue from the bottom of my mouth to lick and tease at the oozing flesh. Dropping the severed part into my mouth, my jaw snaps shut around it, teeth tearing through muscle and bone as if they were like butter. I feel your blood squeeze through my closed mouth, dripping down the sides of my face. I lick at my lips once more, lapping up the excess mess. My bones and skin slowly slide back into and I tilt my head forward, stretching out my neck muscles from the strain.

Lightning strikes, flashing bright and lighting the forest outside. A loud crash of thunder booms above me, making me jump a little. The echo of the thunder shifts into a soft fluttering of feathers, which causes me to tense up as I stand. Like a cornered animal, I pivot to see my hunter before me: a small brown and white barn owl, perched upon the rafters. I stare in horror, frozen in place. The owl stares back at me, hunger in its eyes. My time is up.

“N-no, please… it can’t end like this. Just… just give me a little more time, please!” I scream, feeling the fear course through my veins, just as ecstasy did only moments ago. Thunder roars overhead as the owl flaps its wings harshly, blowing a strong wind towards me, knocking me off my feet. I cry out in pain as I land. Looking over, I see that I’ve landed on one of my daggers and slashed my arm. The owl flies down onto the floor, closer to me. Its eyes grow wider and wider, a red glow forming around its pupils. I feel the anxiety swelling in me now, knowing that I cannot fight this. A spark of lighting flashes a shadow of the owl against the wall, showing a demon form; rough edges, and a scowling mouth. As I stare ahead of me, the owl spread its wings fully, the tips of its feathers starting to smolder. Suddenly, the rest of the bird erupts in flames as a screeching howl emits from the bird, mimicking the wailing thunder as the sound echoes throughout the empty barn. I find myself trapped in the gaze of the demon, its eyes as big as the moon. I see within them the reflection of my own blood coated face. The flames from its wings now spread to the rest of the barn, surrounding me.

“Please,” I beg, choking out the word, a streak of blood running down the side of my mouth as I speak. I watch as the demon moves towards me at a slow pace. “Please, just another day, I promise.” Its eyes suddenly flash a bright red, fire spitting from its mouth and a dark grumbling growl emitting from it. Tears prick the corners of my eyes as I cower from the devil before me. I have worked so hard to get here, and now it all just gets taken away. I had to steal, beg, barter, and slaughter to get where I am and, as a reward, I am doomed to an early grave. My insides burn as if they’re already on fire.

“Begging will not save you,” I hear the owl’s voice in my head, mocking me. “You have been given enough time. That time is up.”

My cheeks are now wet with blood and tears, my eyelids heavy like weights. I let my eyes close and let myself give in. I exhale one last time as the owl stretches its wings, scooping me into them and consuming me. I can hear their screams; the screams of every poor soul that has been taken captive by the wings of fate. Among them, I hear my own cries meld into the chorus until I, and everything around me, turn to dust and flames.

fiction
Like

About the Creator

Seth Maurizzio

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.