20 September 2012
Laying in a pool of squelching wet mud his body is cold, his face bloodied, his mind disorientated and shaken... Echos of familiar screams and angry tones bounce around his skull as numbness and pain stab at his body, like static charges exploding with no pattern or synchronicity... pain flicking on and off... Lighting up nerve endings only to sever them with a pulse of their own. Nerves throb with pain. Heavy raindrops torment his senses as the wetness and the cold bully his heavy swollen body ravaging his senses.
Then muted sound becomes muffled... Rising in a flash to clarity he hears her
"please no!!" the sound of her angelic innocence
"please let me go" she begs followed by the sound of struggle His consciousness comforts him "you know this voice" "it is your Juliet" "they are hurting her"
"Shut up bitch" a vile disgusting voice snaps before the eternal echo of her scream!
His heart beats deep like the drums of an apache war tribe, gaining rhythm and pace
His consciousness growls and snarls "GET UP" "GET UP NOW" The energies of the earth pull together and collide inside his heart which boils and spits like a molten furnace of rage. Time has now stopped around him, Pain is no longer faint nor holds meaning it has no existence or purpose.., fear dissolves like the testicles of a wounded dog! as he rises to his feet
A growl bellows and brews in his stomach rising through his chest to his lungs He roars like the king of beasts "Raaaaaaaaarrrgggggg" "GET AWAY FROM HER" The world has been muted, silence beckons the skies as only the slow sound of heavy raindrops beat their song of war as they collide with the wet muddy ground.
His cold icy breath emits mist like steam from his nostrils and lips with every deep breath as adrenaline begins to leak, drip feeding his blood stream before pouring into his vains.
He knows it, he feels it.., pain and suffering is coming, but not for him, not for his Juliet, but for the vile bastards that dare touch her. They have gravely underestimated his love and commitment, to die for would only inconvenience his soul.
He walks towards them hunting, slow, step by step shrouded in a cloak of shadows that smear and wrap his body and face, only revealing his eyes and the creases of his snarling face.
His fingers lock into fists, his body tenses, his muscular armour full and hard tightens ready and poised fir a clash of bones and flesh as he engages for battle.
His voice quiet and calm reiterates "move away from her... Move Now" his words spit venom, like fangs stabbing in synergy with his raging stare as death walks with him.
"no man can get up after a beatin like dat" one of the putrid vile men concurs with the others thoughts as their worried gazes cross sight..
His eyes flick from his prey to his love only for second, but just long enough for one of the scumbags to catch a glimpse of weakness.
Then...
Fear Hath No Mercy For The Fallen • Opuss № I