If you are under the age of, say, twelve, or are opposed to violence, you probably shouldn’t read this. There’s a violent bit.
We watched in frozen, unspeaking horror as the mass unfolded and revealed a hideously discernable form. While it had the body of a normal adult male, it flopped around as if mad and stumbled like a drunk. The form of the body was mannequin-like, completely naked but with barely discernable features. Its feet were completely artificial-looking, and as it moved upward the detail increased. Around the waist level muscle lines became discernable, the shoulders were moderately defined, the arms got progressively clearer as they descended and reached normal clarity at the hands. The neck and above were even more distinct than that of a human face, although the face was of the sort you wanted to be out of focus. Every grizzled scar could be seen with disgusting precision, and manic, bloodshot eyes jumped out of its skull without leaving its proportions. Every strand of too-black hair on his head stood out with too-perfect clarity. The worst part of the monster, and the part that still haunts my memory, were the bloody runes inscribed all across its skin. It was as if someone had taken to it with a carving knife and potato peeler, but used so that the runes possessed a kind of intricate, gruesome beauty about them. Recurring patterns decorated its entire body, and I wondered who would bother to place such lovely designs on such a gruesome creature- for they obviously weren’t natural. I also wondered why someone would carve it directly into the skin, rather than use tattoos or something similar. Of course, this was just a small part of my brain juggling these speculations; the rest was thinking, Oh God what did I do to deserve this someone help me… etc.
Chester and I were very still, doing everything in our power to not draw attention from it. Somewhere, in a deep, residual part of the human mind, there must be something telling people what the safest course of action is, because we both knew that this creature would be drawn to the most intense sensation of sound or light near it, and since the crescent moon was our only light and the wind was our only sound, it was blind as long as we didn’t do anything. Or, more accurately, as long as no one that was near it did anything.
Then, the man who had told us to shove off was a few fields down. I saw that he was an old man, at least sixty and probably older, with a red plaid shirt, loose-fitting jeans, and a slight limp in his right leg. He looked at us in a typical suburban rage and shouted, “You kids better clear out this instant or I’m gonna s- ARRGHH”
The man saw the humanoid creature and let out a powerful scream, turning quickly and fleeing as fast as he could on his bad leg. Chester and I watched, horrified, as the demon chased after him in its mad, drunken way. The old man turned to look at it, for whatever reason, and in his revulsion tripped, falling to the ground. A scream even higher than the last one resounded for a second, until the demon’s finger turned into a claw and was rammed into the man’s skull. It curled its finger within the man and broke apart his brain to ensure his death, then kneeled next to him much more sanely than we would have expected. His head lowered to the man’s neck, and he bit deeply. Time turned to water for a second, then he released suddenly, pulling back and letting streams of blood careen into his mouth. An eerie whine filled the air as more and more of the man’s liquid life pumped out of his now-dead body. It stood there with its back arched, arms out, as every drop of blood came out of the man, leaving him a deathly white, and fed themselves into the demon. Not a drop was spilled.
I’m not sure why I wrote such a disturbing scene.