A dark, damp cellar, somewhere in the world.

The creature felt cold. It was all that the being knew now. The cold and wet felt sticky under its naked feet. That feeling and the voice in its head had become familiar friends. The voice was now the only way it could connect with the outside world, that and the shimmering light that came every time the food slot was opened in his prison door. That had been constructed by its foster family, because they didn’t want any contact with what they called a freak of nature. It felt hungry. It seemed like days since anyone had remembered to feed it. Not that it could count the days as they went by, but somehow it could almost remember how long a day was. So it seemed like it had almost been three days since the last time it had seen food. It wasn’t thirsty, because it had been drinking the water that sipped into the basement through the walls. It wasn’t proud of this, but at least it didn’t die of thirst.

Maybe they had forgotten about it. It wanted to scream, but it remembered the severe beatings of its foster father whenever he made an inappropriate sound. It was scared of him, even though the voice had told it not to be afraid, that it was much more powerful him. The voice had always been very soothing, but as of late it had begun to talk to the being about leaving the cellar and taking revenge over the ones that held it down. The being didn’t want to leave this place. This was where he felt safe. It knew that as long as the light didn’t shine more then when the food slot opened, it was safe. The voice had promised many things if the being would just unleash his anger, and many times it had felt like doing so, but it felt like it wasn’t the right thing to do. It didn’t want all things that the voice had promised it, like power, money and means to do what it wanted with the race of men.

It still felt hungry. It was a sensation that it was used to. It had felt this hollow sensation in its guts many times before. This sensation was one the things that made it feel alive, even though it did not feel like it mattered if it was dead or alive. It was shunned from the day it was born. The creature showed no sign of which sex or race of human it was. Sometimes it felt like it didn’t belong to this world. The voice had many times told it that it shouldn’t bother caring about what the others said. It was destined for greater things then them. It should just kill them all, for their gawking stares and ridiculing laughs. They weren’t worthy its presence.

No, it shook the thought out of its head. The creature didn’t believe in violence. It had never raised a hand against any living. Well, look where it has gotten you, the voice often said. It had read somewhere that the meek would inherit Paradise. And in Paradise it wouldn’t be ridiculed. That in its self would be Paradise, to be somewhere where it would be praised for its talents. Sometimes it could move things by shear thought. It hadn’t shown to anybody. It thought it would make it a bigger freak in the eyes of the humans.

It felt like it wanted to break free. It believed it had the power to kill all of mankind. If it did that, then it would be alone and free from the ridicule and hate. No, that was what the voice thought, not it. The voice always told him this. If only it would kill its captors, then he’d been free to roam the world taking vengeance upon the ones who would hurt it. All of humankind would hate it, and hate led to hurt. It knew this from firsthand experience. Everyone it had ever known had feared and hated it. Therefore they had hurt it. They had locked it away in cellars, cupboards and lofts. They wanted to hide it, because they despised it.

There was the sound of keys rattling in the lock of the door. That noise the creature had early on learned to fear. It usually meant that someone was coming, someone hated and feared it. They would hurt it. The voice told it not to let them. The door opened. The silhouette of a man was standing in the doorway. He walked down the stairs.

“Where are you, you little freak?” The man was filled with anger.

“I need you to clean yourself up. The social services are coming to see how you live.”

The creature was lying in his corner. It hoped that the darkness would hide him. It didn’t want to be found. That would only cause it pain. The man reached over for the light switch. The light had unwelcome effect on the creature. It couldn’t see anything.

“There you are. Are you hiding from me? You know that I hate to come and look for you.”

“I wasn’t hiding. I was sleeping.” The creature cowered as the man approached him.

“You are such a terrible liar. Do you know that?”

The man bent down towards it. He looked at it with a hateful look.

“I can smell a bad liar from a mile away. You knew that, didn’t you?”

The creature nodded and the man sniffed into the air.

“You reek of many bad lies.”

He raised his hand. The creature knew what was coming. It regretted the lie it had told. The man hit it over the face with the back of his hand. The pain came after a feeling of numbness. The man was a large human, and he had strength to fit his big body. The pain seared across its face. The man turned his back on the creature. Now, the voice told it. Kill him now.

All of a sudden the creature grabbed a sledgehammer and raised its body. The sledgehammer hit the head of the man with a crunch.

JH Lillevik is a writer of sci-fi and fantasy. He writes screenplays, novels and short stories. He also works as a writing consultant for upcoming writers. His specialty is mythology, world building and psychology.

6 Comment on “Gathering the Circle – Chapter 2

  1. Pingback: Gathering the Circle – Chapter 1 | Benign guy

  2. Pingback: Gathering the Circle | Benign guy

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