Where do I begin?

Hell Hounds

Dying- to be on the verge of death.
Slowly moving toward an impending passing.
The all consuming epitome of darkness.

Hell hounds thrashing upon their lanky chains, a mere scrap of metal, holding them back from locking their jaw and sinking the agonizingly sharp teething into its victims delicate flesh.

Even though portrayed as evil, a symbol for death itself. Feared for by even the bravest of souls and the most valiant of worriers.

These beasts are welcomed. Prayed for by the depressed and desired by the impaired. They are drawn in with the bait of a blade.

Luring the blood thirsty savages in with the bottle kept by the night stand. Or the rope taunting them from the closet.

But they never rush, only torment, feeding on its preys fears. Wait, stalking, latching onto its victims terror.

But when the times right and the restraints are are broken they never hold back. Dragging the prisoner down to hell. Only to leave a vacant body.

Once full of life or rather half dead is now left as an unoccupied product of the past. A reminder of what used to be.

~Melly