To the Rhythm of the War Drums

To The Rhythm of the War drums

Devon screamed. Terror flooded him; drowned him. His voice strangled in fear.
The monster stared calmly back, laughter curdling in its eyes. It didn’t flinch as Devon’s flailing limbs bit into its oozing flesh, sweeping great gouges into its body. They filled themselves with the skin flowing treacle-like downwards. It didn’t care, didn’t notice; only looming closer, malevolence effusing the air.
Great wrenching sobs tore from Devon’s lips. Cold steel flashed at him.
The atrocity hastened closer. Cruel snarling jaws drooled lines of air. Black smog rose and throttled the sky. It laughed. Ferocious and ravenous. It hungered for his flesh; for the bite of blood. Great sweeps of brutal black wings forced it closer, tearing the air in it’s wake.
Devon didn’t even feel the warm flood of piss running down his legs. His eyes were swallowed in the green costumes.
The roar bullied Devon’s eardrums, heartily clawing them to shreds. Screaming consumed every breath; a single constant swell of mind-raping noise. Copper and putrid, intoxicating excrement of gaping guts fouled the breeze; death singing in glory.
It gnawed away at Devon’s mind. He broke, collapsing and vomiting, covering everything in reach.
The doctor looked on in silence, observing and never interfering. Pity shone through his glasses, and his stomach churned at the stench. It was regrettable, and yet they still did nothing to stop it.
He turned away, sighing inconsolably.
Just another broken soldier.
Devon wept.

//Lay your head down child, I won’t let the boogey-man come
Count the bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums.//

Lyrics copyright to A Perfect Circle. Inspired by the song "Pet".