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The now-creature's concept of time was completely altered after the events moments before they partook in this feast. The messy trail of mutilated bodies all led back to its gore-tainted hands. Ripping, peeling, tearing into the plump flesh nestled beneath it. Sitting comfortably crouched over what could be counted off as the sixth victim, their stomach churned. A strange feeling. What was there to worry about? He could not see the carnage- he did not need to. What truly mattered was that he was hungry.
Throughout the blackened night, his mind was fuzzy—noisy, even—with memories tuning in like channels with a rough signal. They would resurface for a bit before being plunged back into the far static of his brain. Visions of fire and flashes of blue, echoes of chants filling his ears, and screams punched out of his lungs. Nonetheless, it didn't concern him. All parts of them refused to remember; he was busy.
During the frenzy, he had bit himself a plethora of times. He might as well have taken small chunks out of his tongues and fingers. Still, it did not matter. Most of the metallic taste was drowned out by the rest of the pleasant meal before him. His stomach ached, and the taste in his mouth went sour. Lifting his head up, the ground beneath them seemed to sway.
Something was wrong.
Jack choked.
Searing poison shot through his lungs, his nose leaked, his body seized and shivered, and the sickness threatened to shred his throat apart. It hurt him. It burned. The creature dropped to its knees, waiting for the rush to hit him and run.
Cold, sickly chunks of black poured out of him like muddy water, tainting the earth beneath it. Hunched over what could be counted as the third time, their nausea threatened to spill yet again.
The creature shuddered, leaning back on its haunches as he wiped his stained face with a dirty sleeve. The faint relief sufficed him as his body forced itself upright, seemingly sobered up and moving on to the next.