Hybrids: An Indoraptor Story ✓

Curse Me With Your Secrets

Maybe I was cursed after all.

Curse is an intriguing word to consider. To mankind, a curse is a phrase meant to shame another lesser cared for in your eyes. Or a sinister word born of magic, defying the worst of events to rule the most unlucky of kin. To prey, a curse was like fumbling into a desert, with no food in sight and predators in every direction. In truth, nothing good comes from curses.

To me, the curse was the egg I rested in.

The pale monstrosity who swore never to follow in her ancestors footsteps.

The idiot who lost her Click. Her Indy. Her sanity.

The corpse that's now lying dead on the floor.

Is it true? No other creature of the human kingdom can ever endure such humiliations and anguishes in one lifetime. Rodents aren't hunted for pleasure. Dogs aren't contained and experimented on for the welfare of others. No cat is punished for bearing orange fur or pale whiskers. And what human is turned into a weapon against their will?

Perhaps that's why I am a hybrid: I was designed to break. To twist and torment under stress. To succumb to instinct, break for freedom, and let fate decide my death. It didn't matter how benevolent I was to the human race, the missions I conquered, or the blood I spilled. Nor did it matter if I towered above the tallest trees, or slithered beneath their crimson shadows; if you were born a hybrid, you were destined for a world of pain.

True, unimaginable pain.

No scar is a trophy -- just a memory to sway into your ravaged mind. No hunt is a reward -- just a reminder of how greedy you are. No love is infinite -- nothing lives forever. Peace is a lie. Sleep is a myth. Joy is a fantasy.

Blood is all that remains.

Now my body laid in a circle of death, a crimson ooze slowly trickling out of my bones and into the rolling river. I was injured enough, having edged death's silver claws once again. All I wanted was relief. A sign of hope. I practically begged for it.

Instead, the world decided to give me another nightmare to enjoy.

But it wasn't like any I've ever had.

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I awoke to a glow of yellow. The foggy forest welcomed me back with invisible arms, coating my ivory scales of its moistened touch. Little mist particles wavered around my body, drifting across the breeze like pollen in spring. While the rounded bumps of my claws rubbed upon the floor my tail wagged about, presenting my current state of wonder. Both nostrils flared -- there was no scent other than the pheromones that drifted from my hide. And the road was just as I remembered it: cold, firm, burnt.

Lifeless.

Still fixed on the glow, the predatory diamond in my eye shrank into thin slits, sealing the blinding light from burning my iris. But I saw enough to know that this was the same car I had found the first time; its silver underbelly still facing the darkened sky while molten glass fluttered beneath the blooming flowers.

The same car. The same dream.

I began rounding the flaming car like once before, listening to the crackling echo of broiling metal. Heatwaves stabbed at the side of my flesh, and the smoke burned at my eyes, often forcing me to turn away. I didn't feel uneasy seeing this nightmare again.

But I was confused. Why was I back here again? What more can I find?

What was even the point?