The slow killing

“Kill! Kill! Kill” their cries rent the air. I cowered in the corner, cuts bleeding, and hurting. I growled, snarled, snapped and bit. They were too many. There was no escape. I resisted, for what I do not know. It was inevitable. This was going to be the end.

They were people I knew. People I had grown up around. They stood there looking at me, fear and hatred burning in their eyes. With pitchforks, spears, whatever they could lay hands on, anything that had a sharp end. To prod, to pierce. To hurt. To kill.

There was the urge. To give up. To go in peace. Wait for the one spear to pierce the heart. To sleep. But I resisted. I didn’t know any other. I growled, snarled, snapped and bit. They were terrified. None came near. One approached as another retreated, pricking me from one side and then the far other. This was going to be slow. This was going to take forever.

They knew only fear. This was the time they had lain in wait. A mistake, just a small one. To avenge. To kill.

I lay there cowering. Growling, biting and snapping. They waited. With pitchforks and spears. This was going to be the end.

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4 thoughts on “The slow killing

      1. LOL! People have compared it to torture, never heard anyone compare it to murder or death though 😛

        Anyway it goes, the folks with the pitchforks will claim victory in the end 😉

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