There are monsters in this world. Deformed, animalistic monsters, trapped deep beneath us in the darkest confines of our earth. They have blackened skin, clawed hands with razor sharp talons, and needle point teeth the colour of blood. Their bodies are hunched and thin, their eyes blind from a lifetime of darkness. And they were once human.
These terrifying monsters, known only as Reavers, are what become of us when we are forced to live completely devoid of light and humanity. They live, trapped in dark caves, like prisoners, while the light of the surface, as well as all of those it touches, shines with ignorance and naivety as to what goes on underground. For as long as men have walked this earth, the Reavers have been there, beneath our feet, waiting patiently to be freed. But at night, when the burning sun goes down, these creatures slowly crawl out of their dark prisons, breaking free of their final ties to humanity and going off in search of their next meal.
One of the Reavers, young for its kind, though ancient compared to humans, crept out of its cave as the final rays of light disappeared over the horizon. It blinked and let out a shrieking wail as its eyes burned from the sudden brightness of the stars, and retreated to the shadows of the entrance of its home until they adjusted. When it could finally bear the glowing light, it crept out into the night, navigating its way over the pointed shadows of rocks and around silhouetted trees. With its eyes seeing nothing more than an outline of its surroundings, the Reaver relied on its scent, picking up every faint whiff of its prey. As its deformed nose latched onto a fresh trail, and its mouth began to water with the prospect of quenching it’s hunger, one thought ran continuously through its head - kill. Kill. Kill.
As the trail of scent became stronger still, the Reaver slowed down its pace, changing from the loud, clumsy steps of a child to the slow, stealthy stalk of a hunter. Careful not to make the slightest of sounds in fear of alerting its prey, it crept closer still, walking on its hands and feet, until it could smell the delicious odor of the human, not just on the ground, but in the air around it. It was close.
Sticking as low to the ground as possible, it crawled through the dry grass, flattening it underneath its body as it practically lay on the ground, freezing at even the slightest of sounds. As it finally made it to the edge of the grass, it paused one more time, listening for any signs of life, then thrust its head through to the clearing where the human lay. But as soon as the curtain of grass parted in front of it the creature began to shriek and thrash as its eyes were blasted with the overpowering light and heat of a fire. Pulling back into the grass, the Reaver faintly heard a slight rustling as the human awoke from its slumber, having been alerted to impending doom by the wail.
In an effort to avoid the blinding light once again, the Reaver, now becoming slightly desperate as the moon above started its slow descent, and its empty stomach constricted with a vicious hunger, decided on a plan. Creeping back slightly from its thin shield of grass, it began to make the slightest of noises. A rustling of the grass, the occasional snap of a twig, the slight thump of a foot. And all the while, the Reaver made a high keening sound, soft at first, but steadily growing louder and louder, like a small animal in pain. It continued its act for many minutes, occasionally changing pitch and volume, until finally, as it made one final crescendo of sound, the human could take no more.
Clumsily making its way to the edge of the clearing, the human, most likely a male by the smell of it, began scanning his surroundings. Staring out into the vast night, it simply dismissed the dark shape of the Reaver as a shadow at first glance, but on closer inspection saw the slight movement of its breath. Taking a deep breath himself, the human took a single step out into the night, followed by another, and another. After three hesitant steps, the human stopped, his feet just inches from the waiting mouth of the Reaver. And still it waited silently, completely motionless, continuously chanting its mantra over and over in its head. Kill. Kill. Kill.
Still unable to fathom what creature may have been lying in front of him, the human, filled with a deadly curiosity, leaned over it as he tried to decipher what it could be. And as his shadow passed over its face, blocking out the final rays of the campfire’s light, the Reaver saw its chance to act.
Rearing its head, it opened its eyes wide, their creamy white film of blindness glowing in the night. And as the human, startled, fell back to the ground with a resounding thud, the creature leapt onto his chest with a rasping growl, its waiting teeth flashing with impatience. And though the human struggled and thrashed with all his might, his attempts to throw off the Reaver were futile.
In a final, desperate effort to protect himself from the shredding claws and ripping teeth that were carving into his body, the man threw up his arms in front of his face, but to no avail. And finally, with his last, agonising breath, he let out one single, terrified scream, which was cut off suddenly, fading only slightly into a gurgle as his blood choked its way up through his throat. And as the final bit of life leaked out of the humans eyes, the Reaver began to devour its kill with a deliberate slowness, savoring every last delicious bite.
When the only things left of the human were the shreds of his bloody clothes and the slowly dying embers of the fire, the Reaver licked its now red lips and turned away from the clearing. It slowly navigated its way back to the cave, its body still in a heightened state from the pure adrenaline and ecstasy of the hunt. But as it followed the human's now fading trail of scent back to its home, it came across another, fresher one. A woman’s, her sweet, delicious scent filling its nostrils. Diverting itself from its original path, the Reaver began to follow this rare treat under the guide of the fading moonlight with a growing sense of elation, a single word running over and over through its mind. Kill. Kill. Kill.
The End.
