The Literary Canvas

The Literary Canvas

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Thrill of the Beast
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Thrill of the Beast

S. R. Godderick's avatar
S. R. Godderick
Jan 29, 2025
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Thrill of the Beast
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Razor sharp claws ripped through the fabric with ease. Tattered pieces of fiber fell to the floor. Guts spilled out through the tears. It was all part of the beast’s dark purpose.

Serial, premeditated murders.

The beast mauled at its victim one last time, ensuring the deed was complete. Upon examination, it was executed to absolute perfection. Each claw mark was like the brush stroke of an expert artist. Bold and deliberate.

A dreadful masterpiece.

As the beast left the scene of the crime, his chest swelled with pride.

Fulfillment. A sense of relaxation radiated through his body, warming him like a cozy blanket. Maybe he needed some rest before moving to the next victim. His conquest would have to wait. Only for a short while.

Awaking from his nap, the beast arched his back in a long stretch. His eyes closed at the stretch’s peak.

So good.

Feeling refreshed, the beast made his way to the home of another enemy. This time, instead of natural fibers, the target wore a synthetic polymer. No matter. It would still be no match for the beast’s cunning and dagger-like claws.

The beast crouched low as he prowled, sneaking into the room where his mark was last seen. He scanned the surroundings. No witnesses. Good. One more scan.

Artwork provided by AR Clark

Target acquired.

His steps went silent. His mouth watered. He was so close. He could almost taste it.

He pounced.

He latched onto his prey. Claws penetrated the synthetic polymer with minimal effort. He sunk his teeth into the opponent, relishing the savory flavors reaching his taste buds. He used his teeth to rip away the outer layer. The insides poured out. The floor was covered. The beast gorged himself on the innards.

What a rush.

Last on the list was Mugsy. This was a personal vendetta. Always taunting the beast from up high. But no more.

It ends today.

Mugsy was on the usual perch, right on the edge. It was too tempting. The beast stalked Mugsy. Slowly, methodically. His silent steps went completely unnoticed. Excellent. The beast neared his victim. He went into ultra slow motion. He reached out, each muscle tensing, ensuring he held himself so still he was almost undetectable. His paw touched Mugsy, and in one motion, he pushed Mugsy over the edge.

Murdered.

The beast peered down. Mugsy’s broken body was all over the floor, a glorious sight to behold. The beast brimmed with pride. This was his best work yet. He had definitely earned himself a reward. Perhaps another nap? Or a snack?

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Something caught the beast’s eye. A bird. It lay helpless on the floor. The beast leapt down from the ledge in a single bound. His leg muscles rippled with power. The landing, flawless. And quiet.

He moved stealthily over to the bird, ready to strike. His rear legs entered a pounce stance. A skillful maneuver. He sprung onto the unsuspecting bird. The beast gripped its throat. He thrashed the bird’s lifeless body around in his jaws. Nothing could save the bird now. The beast held the bird down with a massive paw and ripped at the bird's throat with his teeth. His bite force was like a vice on the bird’s neck.

One final move…

“Mr. Whiskers! Look at this mess! Every time I leave the house… Ugh! That cat!”

Artwork provided by AR Clark

The beast clawed at the bird’s body one last time then hid under the nearest structure. He committed his crimes with precision, but the evidence he left behind could lead to his punishment. He would need to lay low for at least a little while.

The enforcer could never stay mad at him for long. He was apparently too “cutesy wootsy”. She would remove all the evidence. All would be forgiven. And the beast would be free to return to his evil directive.

Murder everything. Inanimate or otherwise.

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