Compatible Monsters - 8

Inside her head, red flags and alarms;

'Do not trust him. He will betray you.'

She stands limply, looking at the floor,

Framed in tangled, raven-coloured hair.

Hands caked to the elbows in Chuck's blood,

Dripping from her gnarled and trembling hands.

Breathing deep and heavy, lips apart,

An idle string of drool falls from her mouth,

Unnoticed, she stands in utter shock,

Broken only by the sudden sound

a "pwak" as her saliva hits the floor,

Smokes and bubbles, eating through the tile. 

She wants to scream -- for what has she become?

Something not of this world, to be sure.

A demon, or some other alien thing?

No beast she knows of has acidic spit.

And why is she so dizzy and fatigued,

The darkness is so heavy, suddenly.

And yet, such power surges through her now;

As if her every atom is awake --

Each hair moving independently,

Eyes adjusting to see in the dark,

Fingernails like knives grow long and sharp, 

And suddenly she needs to see the sun.

"Hurry up, darling," her partner says,

"We don't have time to dally, I'm afraid."

She glances up at him for a moment

With new eyes, and sees just what he is:

A shadow figure, made of purest black,

Tall, with spindly limbs and long fingers,

Man-shaped, save a set of ruby eyes;

Crimson pin pricks peering from the gloom,

Boring like a drill through her resolve.

'Whatever he may be, he's not a friend --

Even if you make it out alive,

There's no telling what he'll try to pull. 

Use him, yes -- but only 'til outdoors,

And if only one life makes it, make it yours."

----

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015