My teeth began to grind together, just as the relationship between the hands of a 75 year old pianist and the keys of his Catholic church organ. Beasts, crazed beasts…diseased excuses of evolution now circled my perimeter. If I had any intentions of protecting my still beating heart, now was the right time. I could feel their warm moist breath touching my face, I began to familiarize myself with the distinctive smell. Burnt matches and raw meat echoed through my nostrils, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. The whites of their eyes became more and more apparent, each set waiting to pounce, eager to tear my weakened body to shreds. To them I was merely nutrition, although they wouldn’t leave much to spare, as the satisfaction of the kill would justify every mouthful. Slurp slurp slurping away at my bones, bickering between themselves at who gets what. I wouldn’t be surprised if they ate my clothes. Anything which has touched my skin would be a delight to their ever aching stomachs. Just as a child licks the wrapper of a desirable chocolate bar, I’m no different. I closed my eyes. Any signs of fear inside had now surely gone, as I have stood before my executioners for what has seemed like eternity. I took one final deep breath, tasting life in all its beauty. In all the years I have existed, no breath of air has tasted quite like this.
I watched a film about Hunter S.Thompson tonight and it inspired me to write something. I imagined a protagonist with a challenge put before them.