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From: The Storyteller
Date: 11 Dec 1999
Time: 18:53:36
It awoke Hungry in the forest of stones. The world was different now, colorless, black and white and shades of gray. Though the blazing static of its fractured mind, it tried out the movements of the body. The tremor of a passing car startled it, and it stared blindly around at the distant noise. It too wore the caul, though, across its eyes, the faces of the damned could be seen, rising up in the flesh of its face. They screamed in pain, as did it. It tore wantonly at its eyes, and the terrible thing managed to clear the confusion from itself. It saw then, what it was. It looked at its own body, and saw nothing inside. Then, to the world's horror, it looked around at the night. It saw faint but vibrant movement, people, who were pale red silhouettes in its sight, against a backdrop of black. It knew its purpose, and it took them, both of the two young women. They were as black as the rest of the world it saw after it had taken them, as it knew how to do, stealing soul as well as life, drinking deeply of both of the raw elements of their humanity. Its hunger, then, was satiated, though it knew it would need to feed again, soon.
The blackness it saw made it feel glimpses of home, yet it knew it didn’t belong. As it cried out into the night in agony, it realized it had no choice but to exist. Yet it saw the world as through shards of obsidian, the life it had lost yet regained its only points of direction. In the darkness, the rats shone like beacons for the creature, as it flowed, rather than walked, through the imaginary tunnels of a nightmarish world. It gathered the energy of the rodents by simply passing over them, leaving carcasses dry and brittle. It knew what it was. It was Angry.
Always.