Spiral

Lust

The rustling grew closer, and the hooded creature became more terrified of itself. It stood by the tree, the same one where the maggots were dying in its' blood. It looked around at the clearing that it was in, right before the forest. The heartbeat grew louder now, almost jumping through the chest of the hooded creature, well that's what it felt like. The creature took a stance of defense, as if it was ready to attack if it needed to. The rustling stopped for a second, which made the hooded creature sense more danger, and it grew even more anxious and even more ready to attack. Out of the trees there walked a person, someone the creature deemed dangerous, it sensed the danger on the person, or at least the threat the person held to it. It seemed as if the person wanted to try and stop it from the nightly deeds it did, but the hooded creature wanted to continue, it felt so much power in this habit, and stopping it seemed pointless. The hooded creature used its' dark clothing to mask itself in the dull glow of the moon, and it followed the person closely, looking for ways to attack before the threat could stop it from doing what it does. The hooded creature snuck from behind and it grabbed a hold of the midsection of the threat. It pulled the threat towards it, breathing into the face of the threat.

You will not stop me, I cannot be stopped. I am here to cleanse this world and take this vessel.

The hooded creature stuck two of its' fingers down the throat of the threat. The threat gagged and the hooded creature refused to stop, it shoved its' fingers down the threat's throat again, and the threat puked. The creature didn't stop, even as maggots started to be found in the vomit. The hooded creature forced the threat to puke again, and then it reached down the throat of the threat and it pulled up the intestines of the threat. There were screams, but those were muted from the hand of the hooded creature. The heart of the threat began to die out, and once the intestines ripped from the system and pulled from the threat's throat with the hands of the hooded creature. The heartbeat of the threat died out and the body fell to the floor, limp, and the hooded creature was victorious. It watched the maggots writhe and die out in the puddles of puke that now littered the ground, the moon began to pull its' strength back, and the creature went back onto it's rock by the cliff before it lost everything.

Syler awoke in yet another puddle of sweat, and his throat burned as if it was on fire. He looked at the clock on his desk. 3 pm. He had slept for six hours, which felt long compared to his usual three to four. The dream felt just as much real as everything else, and it really shook him. This one was worse than any of the rest that he's had in the past. Syler got up slowly, trying not to puke and he opened the window as fast as possible to air out his room and hopefully dry up the humid air that seemed to swallow him. He wrung his hair out from the sweat, as this was an ungodly amount even to his standards of night sweating. He pulled a small handful of hair out, and he knew it was starting. The true downfall, his body was starting to slowly die. Which made him feel sort of bittersweet. He wanted it to happen, but he wanted it to go slower than it was happening. He wanted to suffer, truly. It was punishment for existing to him.

Syler went into the bathroom and decided to shower, as he felt disgusting, he smelt disgusting, and even if the fear was too much, it was better than being drenched in sweat. He undressed himself and before he could go into the shower he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He realized he had lost weight, he didn't know how, but it sort of made him look twice, another thing he could use to suffer from. Low weight, it would cause more pain, and that's all he wanted, he felt that pain was all he deserved really. He then quickly got into the shower and washed his body of the sweat and any other thing that might've gotten on it, and he quickly got out of the shower and got dressed in some basketball shorts and a shirt. He put his hair into a bun while it dried, and then he walked back into his room and listened to some Code Orange and wrote a little bit of what he remembered from the dream. Half an hour passed before he heard a knock on his door.