We, my wife and I were taken to a dark gulch in the wild mountains by the storm-ridden coast. Among gnarly oaks, campfires are burning casting shadows on moving shapes. The camp is quiet in anticipation of the festival. Preparations are being made for the feast.
My wife and I were seduced to participating with empty promises. Our hands are bound behind our backs. We share this for the moment. Dumped on a bed of leaves I am separated from my wife who is led by one of the groups of women. I am told she is not the one they want. It is me. She will be alright and taken care of if I don't resist. I am injected with a drug that makes me not want to move. I lie prone on my back soaking in the energy. I am weakened not able to move.
My hands are untied by my keeper, who sat next to me taking quick glances out of the corner of his eye at me. Everything is moving in slow motion. I don't like being drugged. My mind, my most powerful weapon, fought against blackout.
From my sprawled position, I saw a blues band take the stage dressed in deep purple-blue suits with skinny lapels, narrow deep blue ties and you guessed it deep purple-blue shirts. Their eyes glowed red the band began to play born under a bad sign". My wife came out of the shadows and mouthed to me "I want to go home." The look on her face broke my heart. Hand on her shoulder a tall blonde woman with diamond eyes and very long white teeth pushed her along, more of a jailor. I feel a strong tug in my heart and gut when I see her tired listless expression. Her words echoing in my mind " I want to go home." Trying to clear the drug sludge from my mind is hard enough but I kept at it. My heartbreaking.
Someone or Something yelled what's for dinner. "He is!" something gleefully pointing in my direction. I am jumped on and straddled in preparation for the feast. I am getting angry and charged up. They had no idea who or what I was. Pushing off the soon-to-be cannibals with their gnashing teeth in my face. I finally changed into my real self ripped the individual on me in half. I stood and howled. These assholes are going to pay. This thought felt good and right. After much rendering, tearing apart, biting heads off, gutting, and creating havoc. I suddenly remembered an old saying that made me howl. "Cry havoc Let Loose the Dogs of War." That is how I have survived so long preparing for nights like these.
The work done I looked behind me, saw my wife, threw her gently over my shoulder, and just walked away.
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