beasts - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The oddest thing was the monstrous nature of the monster hunters. They were the 'dark mirrors' - seeking to destroy what was truly within. For they had no empathy, no love or kind spirit to guide their hands and hearts, to fashion their thoughts in compassionate ways. And so the hunters, the equivalent of the villages with their pitchforks after some unfortunate misfit, they were the beasts they claimed to despise.
The further I go into the dark, the more the light burns. The longer I live without it bringing colour to my world the more I love blackness. Perhaps there was a time I didn't have to become a beast, but I am one now. From this dark pit, this terrible pit where not an ounce of light shines, I call to others to follow me. I have no wish to be lonely. I want to be the master of this dark place, the one who has power and control. How can I have either if there is no-one to be my partners in pain and cruelty. The reward for following me is to learn the joy of inflicting pain, the love of power and the ability to remain indifferent as others suffer. You are meant to save yourself, I can help you with that. I can put the knife in your hand and remove the conscience from your mind. Think how strong you'll be with no voice telling you not to kill, not to harm. Why should you listen. You can be a king, mighty, crushing your enemies under your foot. There is no right and wrong, only what you can and can't do. You were born to be a beast like me. Come closer, let me close the door behind you.
The darkness is my cradle, from here I can preserve my skin, hoard my riches. In this chamber, this crypt, I feel power surging through my claws to my yellow eyes. Tomorrow is a another day to be the ruler of hell, another day to watch millions perish in hunger while my silos are full of grain. Tomorrow is another day to make record profits, buy more gold, sell more weapons and bombs. Some say I am a beast. I say it's natural. Doesn't a snake care for themselves alone, aren't they natural too? My job, my only job is to preserve myself and I do it very well. I'll let you crack the code to riches so long as you swear your loyalty, so long as you bid farewell to the light.
The creature was huge and grotesque with matted hair and huge twisting horns protruding upward into the dark midnight sky. The contorted figure eclipsed the moon. It stood on it's knotted haunches and stooped as it's wrinkled face stared at me. It gave off an aura of pure hate and evil expressed in its dull black eyes.
The beast lay hunched in the brooding forest on the borderline between The Known and The Unknown. He was part of the latter but he was hungry for fresh meat. He was as large as a bear on it's hind legs and with jaws just as powerful, but his skin was a dull green and the claws he held at the ready looked borrowed from some prehistoric predator, they were twelve inches to the tip and sharper than a butcher's knife. He squinted his red eyes toward the dappled shade of the meadow that surrounded the people village and tensed his muscles ready to pounce. That sunlight would be murder on his delicate skin and almost unprotected retinas. Then came a sound to fill his heart with joy, it was a child, skipping and singing. A child who had not listened to it's mother's warnings about staying away from The Unknown.
She was born into a cruel and vicious world, the late Pleistocene Age, 126,000–12,000 years ago. A world of kill or be killed, a world where only the strongest would survive. She was the largest carnivorous mammal to have ever roamed the continent. Extremely robust with powerfully built jaws and very strong forelimbs, she had retractable claws allowing them to remain sharp when not in use. The first digits on each paw being semi-opposable with an enlarged six inch claw. Being double jointed, this could be rotated in any direction. She used this claw to slash at her intended prey as well as providing her with a secure footing when climbing trees. Her hind feet had four functional toes, the first digit being much reduced in size, possessing a roughened pad similar to that of possums.
Her group consisted of fifteen individuals. Most stood around a metre high at the shoulder and up to two and a half meters from head to tail. Nearly all averaged around eighty to one hundred kilos in weight. She was one of the largest, weighing in at more than one hundred and ten kilos. Although only a few years old, she bore scars from many previous fights. In her world the best fighter became the Alpha, the pack leader.
Although powerful animals, they were not particularly fast runners.
They were ambush predators and with the combination of the olive green fur and the brown stripes across the back they were virtually invisible among the bush and tall grasses their prey fed upon.
The beast had long known that they key to a lasting victory was not to hit the enemy where they were weak, but to make their strength destroy them. Every virtue is a sweet spot, too much one way or the other and it becomes a vice - all except love, and that was a problem for the beast.
And so the beast became more clever, more devious. Love will bring even angels to war, if their loved ones are feel threatened they will defend with knives, guns, bombs. But also their weak-points had to be leveraged to get the situation just right - pride, greed, lust, envy, sloth, wrath, gluttony. The best way to do that was to leverage the trading systems, show them how to cheat - the banking system was born. From there it was child's play. Just poke the weak spots and use their strength to destroy them. Artificial scarcity was a simple manifestation of greed, and once the system got "too big to fail" it would be kept in check by fear tactics. At that point the ideal "hell" would be achieved - always a ready supply of victims, all populations suffering in different ways. The light extinguished one person at a time, one soul at a time. The message being clear - "Join me in this world of greed and hoarding or suffer and die. Be complicit or be under our boots. Where do you want to be?"
The beast was more than comfortable. He lit a cuban cigar and sat back with a smirk. After the latest sale of weapons his back account would jump higher, digits he didn't need and would never spend. But that wasn't the point was it? The point was to win, to get more, to beat the other arms dealers. After spending the morning watching his stocks rise he examined his scaled skin, how pretty the yellow-green was in the soft autumnal light. It was lucky no-one else could see his changes, his reward for being so clever, for learning how to "play the game." His favourite new thing was his wonderful forked tongue that spoke so differently to different folks. At the charity gala it gave him the ability to speak as if he was full of love for the world. Behind closed doors it gave him the ability to make deals that would kill thousands of people. With every passing day he felt more powerful, more intelligent. He could play both sides and win, be a hero to all sides, a role model, respected. And why not? There wasn't a person alive who wouldn't do what he'd done if they had access to his code. Well, their price for failure and weakness was to be his underlings feeding off his scraps, being fooled into defending his way of life, his utopia.
Beasts aren't unhappy once they let go of the light. They have the thrill of the kill, the satisfaction of consuming their prey. They have no second voice, no positive force to bother them, asking them to be good. They have a peace of mind you poor creatures do not. They don't feel empathy for their victims, or guilt for keeping what's theirs. What's yours is yours, right? You don't want to share. Greed is good, power is might and might is right. You know it makes sense. Now shut the door, block out the light. Close the windows and paint them black. The darkness is your friend. You can be strong alone, no need for "friends." That was all an illusion anyway, they never cared, did they? No, it is the darkness that is your ally. Dark is truth, dark is honest. It is love that is the lie, it isn't even there my pretty. Come, let me show you how to survive in more than comfort. I will bring you opulence you haven't even dreamed of. Just say goodbye to love and hello to diamonds, gold, jet planes and lions on gold leashes.
The beasts eyed the herd. They moved in a protective pattern around the young, the guards shifting continuously. Always the strong were on the outside, ready to defend. What fools they were, in this way the strong always fell, the best. With beasts it is the strong that survive, the weak that are sacrificed.
A beast will never sacrifice himself, he'll always send another in to die in his stead - that's self preservation, logical. It makes victory easy, ramp up the threats and watch the heroes emerge. When they do - kill them all and corral the sheep population. After a few more cycles you have a docile population unable to perform any brave task and unwilling to sacrifice themselves, completely ensnared by fear. In short, the job of the beast is to selectively breed for a submissive population by killing the heroes one war at a time.
You can call me beastly, devil, or any name you want. It is in the nature of a beast to be a beast. It's fun too. Don't you love the thrill of the kill? Don't you love to chase an animal only to snuff it out? Why deny your natures? It is the first nature any beast gets - survive, hunt, kill. There is joy in power, in dominating, in making others subservient to your will. Don't you want that? A beast is just another of nature's fine animals. Morals are for the weak, those not strong enough to seize power for themselves. They await a Godly force to save them, or inspire them to a blood-less victory. Even that is a tool for me, how simple it is to inspire them to kill in the name of God. Perhaps that makes me their God, perhaps it is the beast they want.
You are beasts of burden, burdens of a conscience you don't need. When you can kill and feel good about it you'll be so free. Come to the dark side, let your hate swallow you and cut those chains of guilt.
You are the beasts of war. You listen to your beast master and set the bombs, sell the guns, build your palaces of golden bones. You drink the fine wines and eat the caviar - you are bought and paid for my lovelies, don't fight it. You are my beasts, the ones who can't detect the light and they are coming for you. Build your fortresses high. The time has come and you are on my side, the side of the beast.
The beast came to Belle, "I am sorry you were abandoned, let me take you in. I can be your shield from the world, take away the keen sting of betrayal. You can have revenge, power, money, riches. Just be my Belle and you will see the world fall at your feet."
Belle heard the sweet song of the beast, how well he cast darkness, made is so pretty it looked just like the moonlight. But what he spun could never match the warmth of a spring day, the beauty of a simple flower. She shook her head. "I am not abandoned, I never was. My father never left me, not for even a second and he stands by my side. I would never walk with a beast unless it was a crucial part of slaying it. Revenge is cold, power is an infection, money an illusion. The only real thing in this world is love and a beast can never know what it is." She turned for the beasts reply but he was gone, returned to the darkness...