They Come in the Night

The screams are nearly constant now. Each night they take more, dragging them off to whatever horror awaits them within outer darkness. As their ranks swells so too, it seems, does their appetite. Most no longer struggle, having long ago resigned themselves to this grisly end. The suffering and agony seem almost quaint when weighed against our isolation and dread. But I will not go quietly. I swore an oath to protect this land, and wish that I could claim that my sense of right and duty sustained me. But my motives are far simpler now. Hate. I hate Clara for what she did to us, and Dario for what was done to him. I hate this place of dirt and bugs and coarse, restraining branches. I hate knowing what’s coming, and knowing I am powerless to stop it. And I hate myself, for allowing this fate to befall me. So when they open this cage, I will fight. I will strike out at their sneering, stolen faces and hope to smash the effigy of my fallen friends. I will tear their bark with teeth and nails, clawing and screaming like the dying animal I have become. I will make it hard and dirty. I will make them rip the breath from my body. And when it is over, if any trace of my soul remains, I will channel all my hate, and rend my new, twisted body limb from limb. -Magistrate Gladis Bond