The Beast of the Darkest Night

The creature sat alone, amid a forest of evergreen,
seated upon its throne of arrogance and deceit,
its darkness radiating like the beauty of a goddess,
or perhaps the light of the sun.
It bore no form, no evidence of physical existence,
for emotion, though powerful and thought consuming,
does not exist in tangible ways. Not anymore at least.
One might imagine a demon, a monster, a beast;
terrible and villainous, vile and cruel,
with eyes as red as newly shed blood,
and a soul as black as the moonless night.
One might imagine a fallen angel,
graced with unearthly beauty,
cast into the very depths of Hell itself;
smitten by judgment and declared a slave
to the courts and harem of the King,
the angel will serve the needs of men
and play the role of a harlot.

The gods, who see this creature, see but a fraud,
nothing more than a coward and a hindrance,
an abhorrence to the common existence,
but the creature is undaunted by rejection
or fear, or even hatred, for the beast of the blackest night
gained immunity to the demeaning opinions of the gods,
and grew strong enough to avenge itself;
maybe too strong..

For every child, man, woman, and subject of mortality,
the pain reaps at their hearts without thought of mercy,
taking from them a joy, which liberated them,
and leaving scars and wounds which fail to heal.
It takes pleasure in killing, that wretched viper;
call it a murderer if you will, plagued by apathy,
but an assassin such as this
holds only one rule in its sense of morality:
to kill, preferably from the inside out.
It makes the victim suffer, tortures them,
makes them scream out in agony and beg for an end;
an ancestor of Kevorkian, this vandal might be.

The beast, the monster,
who stalks its prey like an animal, silently hunting,
patiently waiting for the right moment to strike.
So savage was this creature that it deserved no more
than to be called a demon, a wretch, a swine.
Even to Zeus, and to Hades, this villain seems a mere animal,
yet its power is near, if not impossible,
to conquer.
The tale of its final assault is one of tragedy,
one so horrific that the bravest of heroes
might tense in their seats, their minds driven
to chaotic thinking by means of fright.

That evil beast, how dare he take the lives of the innocent,
make them want an end, make them wish they were dead!
How foolish are his dares, however,
when the viper preys upon a nymph of the forest,
and hunts the favorites of the King.

A dark, star lit night was the scene of this unjust crime.
A blanket of snow, only a few inches thick,
covered the ground like a blanket of white velvet.
The steady bubbling of a nearby creek,
and the chirping of insects which was nature's lullaby,
was enough to soothe the worried and broken hearted.
Here in the shadow of a large willow tree,
sat a young maiden, clothed in white.
She gazed at the water, thinking of distant realities,
of life's complexities which make it seem a puzzle
with several missing pieces, never to be found.

Her face was of beauty and kindness,
yet her eyes held a sad mystery,
as tears of sorrow and hatred ran down her cheeks.

"Why?" She would whisper to nothing;
"Why must one hurt so badly?"

Her question was answered by nature,
whose sweet music filled her ears
with a song of tranquility and relief.
The maiden also heard a new song in the air
as her gaze fell upon another creature,
eyes as red as newly shed blood,
and a soul, black as the moonless night.
A symphony of sorrow reverberated through her mind
as the creature's gaze penetrated her very soul.
Her mind shrank back from the ferocity of the gaze,
yet it was tortured as she found she could not look away.

The music rang in her ears,
a quiet melody both soothing and haunting,
and words were whispered in her thoughts,
their meaning breaking down her very last hope of joy.
They gave her maniacal ideas, yet,
these ideas seemed reasonable to the distressed maiden.

"You are nothing in this life,
but a burden to your peers;
you are a hindrance,
and they laugh at your tears,"

She saw the faces of her companions,
and they shone with delight and resentment.
They laughed at her pain, made her suffer.
A new storm of tears arose as she listened,
feeling as if her soul were falling to pieces,
feeling her body go numb as she began to sob.
The creature took no action of comfort;
on the contrary, it whispered,
with pride in its eyes:
"Fair maiden, who cries all alone tonight,
who breaks under ridicule and laughter;
My sweet, I can end your pain,
I can make your wounds heal,"

The maiden looked up at the beast of the night,
her face shining with tears.
She heeded the words, but empty was her heart
as she stood up to follow, for this particular vandal,
knew the ways of deception.
And all who might have been around,
they might've heard scream, the cry,
but only the gods saw their maiden bleed
as the monster bathed in scarlet red.
Hades, watching with an expression of contempt,
pulled Zeus aside and spoke the words of reason.

"Zeus, surely you see this beast?
Surely you would allow me to cast Cerberus upon it?"

Zeus regarded Hades, considering his words,
for in his own mind, his anger raged uncontrollably.
He nodded to Hades, and walked away,
for even the gods must control their tempers.
"Break it down. Destroy it." He told Hades,
and with a blink of an eye, Cerberus awoke;
Cerberus, the beast with the visage of three.

The creature could feel the blood upon its skin;
feel the anguish of the maiden as she screamed her last words.
However, little did the viper know what it had become;
it blinked, for a strange feeling overcame it,
and fear clutched its heart of ice.
The hellion creature heard a low growl,
felt knife like teeth tear at its flesh without mercy,
and looked into the eyes of the three headed hunter.
The creature cried out in despair and agony,
as its own blood formed a pool around its mutilated form,
more in resemblance to a rotting corpse than anything living.
Now the creature laid dying, and all who were witness
laughed upon its pain, including the fair maiden,
whom Zeus chose as a favorite among the world,
and Hades, the god of the afterlife,
poured its soul into the river of Styx.

The new beginning was a day of unhindered joy,
as the mortals celebrated a day without fear,
and all were to witness the dawn of a brighter reality.