TWENTY FOUR
My heart is beating and beating with a hard sound in my throat. I can hear my body praying to the Lord above and below; whoever wants to listen to me.
This is the first fight I have ever seen with my kind. My race. My family. What am I suppose to do?
The words are in my soul and can't come out.
Simon Peter and Eric are like two dogs who want to kill for territory as I watch the mayhem unfold.
Salvia is dripping and they are foaming at the mouth like dogs with rabies
"God, please help me," I say out loud.
Eric turns to me. He look like a strange monster from the pits of hell.
With a quarter of a second, Simon Peter slashes him to his facial bone with his over grown sharp nails.
I scream!
My brother's face is on the my bedroom floor with his eye balls looking straight at me. His skull is white as snow and hard as a rock.
Without sight, Eric swing his crawls at Simon Peter's stomach.
The stomach is on the floor, with the blood vessels spewing out drops of blood and a strange form of black thick tar acid, as it gorges my floor like a hungry child who have not eaten for days.
The stomach seems to have a mind of its own as it moves toward Simon Peter like an obedience child.
Eric left eye flies into his socket, he strikes again as he targets the lungs, hoping the fight to the death will stop.
With one strike, Simon Peter lungs and heart falls to the floor as Eric shatters his rib cage to a million pieces. This doesn't slow Simon Peter down, but makes him more enrage. He wants to kill him and suffer the consequences.
Simon Peter lungs and heart fly into my body as Eric face become more natural and put together, as his face reconstruct itself.
Simon Peter takes a swing and slashes Olyvia, my grandmother who came to Eric's aid without any warning.
My grandmother's face is on the floor as the black tar eats my floor.
What is this BLACK THICK TAR?!
I don't know.
Simon Peter stops as Eric begins to turn back to his normal human self.
My grandmother stands as her face reconstructs itself in a fast pace. What I see next, is so unreal, I can't believe it.
My mild opinionated snobbish grandmother turns into a monster unlike ourselves. More monstrous then Simon Peter himself. She looks like hell and slave demon who works for The One. She looks like a nightmare; a nightmareRob Zombie can never design, create or dream.
This image will be burn into my head forever. My grandmother proves she is the orignal Shadow Creature and we are just mutant offspring.